Chapter 3

Fiona took it a lot better than Sam expected, but he could still see that she was upset by this turn of events. He said, "The guy is coming down from Orlando to take a look at the car, just to make sure it's his. And if it is, he'll be taking it with him, I guess."

"And we're left with nothing," Fiona choked, her hands balled into fists at her sides showing her frustration. She made a noise like a growl and turned away, stalking into the solarium and dropping to the couch. She stared out the window, her head planted in her hand, trying not to pout. That wasn't her style. But she was out of a sizable chunk of cash and Michael's car was still out there somewhere. She should have known that it wasn't his, but she got caught up in the moment and the hope that it might be. She should have had Sam call his buddy and get the VIN checked out before they went crazy and bought the thing.

Maybe the guy would be willing to give them a finder's fee or a reward or something that would offset her loss, if only a little. And Sam's loss. She couldn't forget about that. He pitched in some. She sighed, thinking about Michael and wondering what he would think about their misadventure. Would he even care that they tried to bring his car home? He didn't seem to have the sentimental appreciation for things that she did. Was she unbalanced? His lack of concern for things served him well and simplified life somewhat. Yet it was the attachment to simple objects that grounded Fiona and connected her to other people. That's why, when it came down to it, she could never be a spy alongside Michael.

It didn't matter, because Fiona didn't want that anyway. She just wanted Michael home, where she could love him and try and give him some kind of normal life. She brought her knees up and curled into a ball against the seat back, telling the world without words that she wanted to be left alone to ponder recent events and where to go from here.

Sam was about to say something to Fiona when she broke away, but Maddie held him back. Instead, he watched the play of emotions on her face and felt her pain. The car was just an object, but he understood what it meant to her. In ordinary times he would have thought she was being silly or just a typical female getting all emotional about the goofiest things. But these were not ordinary times. For her that car was like a life ring in the middle of an angry sea, and for him it was a symbol of hope that Mike was coming home safe and sound. He knew how much that vehicle meant to his best friend, and if he knew what his friends were going through to get it back, no doubt he would work extra hard to make it home for good.

"Sam, you want a beer," Maddie asked, standing next to the refrigerator.

He let out a long breath and leaned against the column separating the kitchen from the dining area. "Thanks, but no."

"Looking at you two, you'd think somebody died," Maddie mumbled.

"It doesn't bother you the least bit that Mike's car could be anywhere out there," Sam said as he peeled himself off the column and approached her. "And people are doing God only knows what to it?"

"Yes, it bothers me. But there's only so much you can do. You and Fiona aren't superhuman." She touched Sam's upper arm and rubbed it. "I think Michael would be touched if he knew how you two are agonizing over this."

Sam nodded, feeling uncomfortable now that Maddie knew his feelings. "I think I'll, uh, wait outside for this Walters guy to show up. The owner of the Charger."

Maddie held out the beer, but Sam didn't take it. Instead, he reached into the cupboard, grabbed a glass, and poured himself some lemonade before going outside to sit on the back steps. The sun was beginning to set, the light shining through the leaves and dappling the concrete and grass below his feet. It had only been one day, but if felt as if a week had gone by, and at the end of it they still didn't know where Mike's car was.

Sam wasn't sure how long he sat there, but the light was fading when a cab pulled up to the curb and a guy in his thirties stepped out after paying the driver. His eyes locked on the Charger, and in the low light Sam could see his sparkle with glee. Sam stood and approached him, fingering the gun he kept under his shirt, tucked in his waistband.

"Hey there," he said and startled the newcomer.

The man turned and stared at Sam, eyeing him from head to toe. The motion sensor turned on a floodlight mounted on the garage's ridgepole, bathing the Charger and Fiona's car in bright light. The man had dark hair and whiskers that were more than a five o'clock shadow. He almost looked like a younger Michael Westen, except when he smiled. He appeared to be a lot friendlier then, but Sam still kept up his guard.

"Hi. I'm Russ Walters, the owner of the Charger." He grinned as he held out his hand, and Sam took it. "You must be Sam Axe. I was told you'd be waiting for me."

"You talked to Detective Howard?"

"Yeah. It just so happened that I was in Miami on business today, so as soon as he called, I came right over. I do a lot of running between here and Orlando, so I know Miami pretty well." He must have realized he was rambling, because the smile on his face twitched and he turned serious. "This baby has been missing for several weeks now, and you don't know how glad I am to get her back. Chica's like a member of the family."

"Chica?"

He smirked and shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Yeah, I named her. I've had this car since I hit twenty one. My dad gave it to me when it was a wreck and I... I restored it." He seemed embarrassed by his boasting. "Anyway, when it was stolen in broad daylight in downtown Orlando..."

"Do the cops know how it was stolen?"

Russ sighed as if it hurt to retell the story. "My wife was using it. She was out shopping and when she came back the guy was hooking it up and told her it was being taken to the impound lot because there were unpaid parking tickets. She knew that wasn't true, but... what could she do?" He ran a hand through his hair and blinked as he stared at the car. "She was upset, but you can imagine I was pretty heartbroken. It's about all I have left of my dad."

"Sounds like my friend Mike's story. That's why we were really hoping this was his car, but we didn't have a whole lot of time to figure out if it was."

"The detective told me how you guys found it and bought it," Russ said, turning sympathetic eyes on Sam. "I wanna compensate you guys for the trouble. It's not right that you came up empty and lost your money on top of it." He pulled his wallet from his pocket. "I only have five hundred on me right now, but I promise I'll get the rest to you as soon as next week when I'm back in town, maybe sooner. You just let me know how much you paid, and I'll take care of it."

Sam accepted the cash as he said, "Thanks, but it's not necessary. We're just glad you got your car back."

"I hope you can get yours. I mean, your friend's car." Russ moved to the back of the vehicle and caressed the trunk. "I better take off now and get back to Orlando. My wife's gonna wonder why I didn't fly back, but she'll be really happy to see the car." His smile blazed to life again. "Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome, Russ." Sam took a step back into the shadows and watched the man's hands slide over it as he made his way to the driver's seat.

Russ stood before the door and found his keys on his keyring, then stuck the key into the lock, but it wouldn't open the door. He muttered under his breath.

"They probably changed the locks. Unless this isn't really your car," Sam said. "Fi and I made that mistake, you know." He gave Russ a crooked smile.

"No, this is it. If I could get inside, I can prove it."

"Here." Sam handed him the keys..

"Thanks." Russ got in while Sam stood in the shadows. The man ran his hand over the wheel and the seat, and underneath he searched for something. Smiling, he pulled and brought up a simple hairpin. "This is my proof."

"A hairpin. What was that doing in there?"

"It's a long story, Sam, and one my wife wouldn't want me telling," Russ replied with a smile that let Sam's imagination run wild.

He nodded and didn't trust himself to get any closer to the car. The proof was there, the car was Russ's, and it would soon be heading off into the night with its owner.

Russ fired up the engine, and he was about to put it into reverse when a squad car pulled up with flashers swirling and a tow truck following close behind. Puzzled, Sam approached the officers who emerged from the squad car.

"What's going on," he asked.

One officer walked past Sam and asked, "Mr. Walters, do you have anything to prove that this is your vehicle?"

"Besides thia?" Russ held up the hairpin, and seeing that the cop wasn't as easily convinced as Sam, he answered. "If you match up the registration with my license, you'll see it's mine. Why are you asking this? What's going on?"

"Are there any distinguishing marks that no one but you would know about? We just want to make sure this is your vehicle, Sir. You understand."

Letting out a breath, Russ stood with his hands on hips. "Yeah, there's a gouge on the engine block. I did that trying to loosen up a tight bolt and almost broke my hand."

One of the officers signaled the tow truck operator, who came forward with the chains and gear to haul the car away.

"Wait. What are you doing? Where are you taking my car?" Russ blocked the tow truck operator.

"We'll get the thing up on the truck and then look at the underside. If the gouge is there, we know it's yours and we'll take it away as evidence in an ongoing investigation."

"You're kidding." Russ paled in the low light.

"They're not kidding," Sam said. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen. Sometimes they'll just photograph the hell out of something and then let the victims take it, but apparently someone has decided to hang onto your car for awhile." He frowned. "It wasn't Detective Howard, was it?"

"No, it was Captain Briggs. They'll probably release the car in a couple days, once it's properly processed," the officer assured them. "We'll need prints from everyone who touched it."

Before the police and the tow truck left, Sam ran into the house to tell Maddie he was leaving. He rushed to his car and unlocked it. "Hey, Russ, come with me."

"Where are we going?" Russ hurried to the passenger side of Sam's car and got inside.

"We're following that cop and the tow truck." With a determined set to his jaw, Sam said, "No way are we just taking their word for it that the car is going to impound. And I'm calling my buddy, Detective Howard. I wanna make sure nobody's trying to pull something on us again, know what I mean?"

The tow truck took the car to the impound lot just as promised, and Sam and Russ sat in the Cadillac watching them take it off the truck. The cops studied the underside, and they must have found Russ's evidence, because they seemed satisfied and nodded for the operator to let it down. Neither man in the car spoke until the deed was done.

Shaking his head, Russ said, "My wife isn't going to believe this. I guess I better get a cab back to the hotel, check in again, and hope I can leave with the car tomorrow." He looked at Sam. "I already sent my pilot back to Orlando with the plane because I thought I was going to be driving my baby home!"

"Hey, why don't you come with me," Sam said. "My lady owns a hotel, the Darabant."

"Nice place. I was staying at the Marriott."

"This place is a whole lot better. Trust me." Sam grinned. "You got any luggage?"

"I sent it along with my pilot except for an overnight bag." He held up the bag.

Along the way to the hotel, Sam learned a little bit about the man who had an affinity for a 1973 Dodge Charger that was so like his friend's, and it amazed him how similar the two men were. Except Russ, instead of pursuing bad guys, spent his life creating devices that let others do that sort of work. For him to have a car stolen from right under his nose must have been humiliating.

"It still blows my mind that there's more than one like it out there," Sam said as he turned in to the valet parking. "I really thought it was one of a kind, at least in the state."

"Me too. I wonder how many more are sitting around Florida." Russ got out of the vehicle and waited until Sam met him on the curb.

"I'm wondering how many more are missing? You know, if someone is running a special kind of racket stealing and selling these Chargers, there could be a bunch more that we'll never find because they've already been chopped up for parts, or..." Sam shut up and held the door open for Russ. "I shouldn't even be thinking like that. Forget I said a word."

"Why does it matter? My car is intact."

"Yeah. Lucky you." Sam didn't intend to sound so cold, but he couldn't help but feel jealous that this man knew his car was safe. Who knew about Mike's car? Where was it? Was it in one piece? "I'm sorry, Russ."

"No, it's okay. I hope you find your friend's car intact too. I really do."

Sam waited until Russ checked in and escorted him to the elevator. Russ got off on the ninth floor, and after Sam wished him a good night and good luck the next day, he continued to the penthouse where Elsa no doubt waited for a late supper. By now she probably just ordered room service instead of hoping for a home cooked meal or eating out. He called her and told her about the lost cash, so she already knew.

"Hey baby, I'm home," Sam said as he entered the penthouse.

"There's my hero," she said and greeted him at the door with a glass of wine and a sensuous kiss. Instead of being angry, she was pleased that he'd done such a thoughtful thing.

"Hero? What'd I do?"

"You didn't think about giving Fiona that money, did you? You just did it. In my book, that makes you a hero." She kissed him again, leaving him almost breathless.

"I tried, but we came up empty." He wrapped his hands around her waist.

"Maybe tomorrow things will look up," she hoped as she pulled him into the room and showed him exactly what she thought of his actions that day.