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Luke realized this was a diversion, an escape from the pool scene, as he walked with Clay and the others to see Clay’s cars.

To get to the garage, they had to go about seventy-five yards along the narrow paved roadway meandering from the house.

Ambling in the cool shade of the woods, Luke retreated into his thoughts, contending with Reeger’s ridiculous claim that Vern had killed Carrie’s mother.

Luke refused to believe it as his concern pinballed to Carrie surrounded by women in the kitchen. Then to his own crisis. The questions that came up went straight to his ambiguity and fear that he might have hit someone.

These guys know I hit something, damaged my SUV, called hospitals. They know about LA. On top of that, the psychologists told me I’d have issues with post-traumatic stress. Is that it, then? I’m imagining that I saw a woman in the storm. There’s no solid evidence. No real proof of anything. Why do I think something happened? But if the others found out that I’m still dealing with PTSD, they’d consider me unfit for the job. I’ve got to figure out what really happened, to prove it to myself. And I’ve got to be careful.

“Luke?” Pulled from his problems, he turned to Clay, who repeated: “I said sorry Reeger’s been such an ass to you.”

“I’ll get over it.”

They came up to the garage with its adjacent carport sheltering several vehicles. Squinting, Shelby did a quick inventory.

“Did you get another one, Clay?”

“Got a deal on a ’76 Trans Am. Guy in Lubbock had it sitting on his ranch.”

“What’ve you got in your collection now?”

“Out here, I got the Nomad in the garage.” Clay fished out the key for the gate of the metal fence securing the carport. Opening it, he gave a tour, for Luke’s benefit, of the aging cars in stages of deterioration, parked in two rows of three.

“That’s a ’74 Dodge Challenger; over here is the Firebird Trans Am. Beside it, the GTO—having trouble finding parts for that.” Clay flipped up a tarp on one. “A ’57 Thunderbird.”

“I love it,” Lonnie said.

Clay pointed to his 1967 Mercury Cougar GT, then the 1969 Dodge Coronet Super Bee at the end as his group inspected the cars, cooing admiringly.

“Some classic stuff here,” Luke said.

“I like hunting for parts, rebuilding them. It’s like therapy from the stress of the job,” Clay said, leading them from the carport and locking the gate. “Guys, go to the front of the garage.”

Clay unlocked the side door and stepped inside. A few seconds later, the big door rose automatically, releasing the rumbling hum of the Nomad. Clay, at the wheel, eased it out. Keeping the motor running, he got out and popped the hood. For a long moment, the men marveled at the purring 265 cubic-inch V8, Lonnie and Shelby smiling like dads staring at a newborn as Clay raised his voice.

“Needs more work yet before the raffle,” he said, dropping the hood, returning the car and locking the garage.

“You’re raffling the Nomad?” Luke asked as they started walking back to the party.

“Lacey’s involved with our church fundraisers. We can raise quite a lot. It’s all good.”

“Very nice.” Luke nodded.

“It’s the whole thing about giving back. Lacey’s shops are doing well. I inherited my dad’s hardware stores.”

“And what’re you two driving?” Shelby asked.

“Lacey’s got her Caddy; I got the Mustang and my truck. We’re fortunate. But not blessed like Luke and Carrie.”

“How so?”

“You have a baby daughter; you’re back here with family. Things might not be ideal right now, but you really have something, something to hang on to.”

Luke looked at Clay. “So do you and Lacey.”

“We do. But we don’t have kids like you do.”

“Do you want kids?” Luke asked.

“There was a time, but then we accepted it’s not really in the cards for us.”

“That’s a tough break.”

“It’s okay. Lacey stays busy with her business and charities. I came into some money from Dad’s hardware business. Worked there part-time in school, learned the art of repair work from the older guys there. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve got it good, and I had it good, ever since Lacey and I were sweethearts in Clear River High School.”

“Hey, Luke,” Lonnie said. “Did you go to Clear River High?”

“No, I went to Rosedale Eastern, across town. After my folks died, I moved out West, went to college there, then got on with the LAPD.”

“And now here you are,” Shelby said.

“You came back with Carrie, leaving everything behind to deal with things here,” Clay said, putting a friendly hand on Luke’s shoulder and exchanging a look with him as they neared the house.