He'd noticed the darkened windows and dimmed porch light even before that shiny black Mercedes-Benz roared into town.

The sheriff had been set on enjoying a quiet evening—after all the welcome home festivities from earlier, he felt he deserved to kick back for a little while.

The stranger had been just shy of speeding, but Sheriff supposed he could get the man for disturbing the peace or something of the like.

He said he was looking for Lightning McQueen, yet he hadn't seen fit to introduce himself and Sheriff wasn't about to hand the kid's whereabouts over to just anyone.

Besides, those darkened windows had told the sheriff exactly where the kid was, along with the fact that Doc wouldn't want them to be disturbed.

Which left him to handle this newcomer alone for the time being.

"Look," the stranger said, heaving a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't have time for this. Do you know where McQueen is or not?"

"Well," Sheriff replied as he took his hat off and scratched his head, "come to think of it, I haven't seen him since this afternoon. Is there something I can help you with?"

"You can help me find my racer."

Sheriff furrowed his brows. "Who did you say you were, again?"

"I didn't." The man snatched a small business card out of his pocket and thrust it into Sheriff's face. "Harv Terrain. I've heard about this hick town from the kid. If any of you give me any trouble, I will call my lawyer."

Sheriff stuck out his hand and prepared himself to lie through his teeth. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Terrain. The best I can do for you right now is give Doc Hudson a call and see if he knows where Lightning is. You know Doc?"

The agent clenched his jaw. "Yeah, we've met a few times."

"Well now, that's nice. Glad you two could get acquainted. Why don't you just sit tight while I try to get Doc on the line?"

Harv checked his watch, his impatience palpable. "Right, well I don't have all night."

"That's all right," Sheriff said, grinning. "I do."

Pulling out the cell phone Sally had encouraged him to get—"I know you love your landline, but what if you're out of town and something happens? What if we need to reach you but we can't because you refuse to get a phone?"—Sheriff dialed the station line and waited patiently for the ringing to time out. The perk of not having a deputy meant there was no one there to answer the phone.

It took everything in him to keep the smirk off his face. "Sorry, son, but it looks like Doc's busy."

"What? Try again."

So, Sheriff did, taking great pleasure in dialing the number as slowly as he possibly could and watching the agent's remaining patience slip down the drain.

"Sorry. I'm getting nothin'." He offered his best apologetic shrug. "I'm sure Lightning'll show up soon. While you wait, why don't you make yourself at home? Flo's V-8 Cafe might still be serving coffee."

"I don't have time to wait! If you don't want to find yourself on the wrong side of a lawsuit, you'll get Doc Hudson on the phone right now."

"If you don't wanna find yourself on the wrong side of a jail cell," Sheriff countered, "you'll quit harassing an officer of the law."

This got the man's attention and he clamped his lips shut.

"Why don't you call Lightning?" the sheriff suggested. "As his agent, I'd think you'd have his number."

"Don't you think I've tried that? He hasn't been answering his phone."

"Oh, well," Sheriff said, shaking his head in mock pity, "maybe the battery died. That boy's always running his phone down to the last drop of energy."

Though the agent rolled his eyes, he finally started retreating toward his car. "Whatever. You said something about coffee?"

"Yep. At Flo's. Here, I'll show you."

"This town is, what? Like, less than five acres?" The stranger scoffed. "I think I can find my way."

"Still, I was headin' there anyway."

Terrain didn't seem to like this, but the Sheriff couldn't have cared less. Better to keep an eye on this one until Doc showed up with the kid. Something about the man didn't set well with him and he was beginning to think Doc and Lightning had retreated to the plateau for a reason…

She recognized his voice instantly. That sharp tenor had replayed endlessly in her mind since that awful night.

"You don't belong there, anyway..."

Sally suppressed a shiver at the mere thought.

This was the voice that had broken the spell; shattered that, seemingly, last precious moment between her and Lightning the night he'd been torn away from them all.

She'd been helping Flo close up the cafe for the night when he barged in and that elusive voice finally got a face.

The man was tall and somewhat imposing, the lines on his skin hinting at the fact that his face was in its most natural state when he was frowning.

Just as he was doing now.

Sheriff followed closely behind, his easy expression standing in stark contrast to the stranger's taught features.

"Evening there, Flo. Sally." The sheriff nodded in greeting, claiming a stool at the counter. "I know it's getting late, but do you have any coffee left over for our visitor here?"

Flo smiled. "Sure thing, Sheriff. I'll be right back."

"This is Mr. Terrain," the sheriff introduced when it became clear the man in a hurry wasn't going to. "He's visiting us all the way from… Where did you say you came from, son?"

The man waved a dismissive hand. "That's not important right now. What is important is that I find my client ASAP. You." And Sally found an accusatory finger pointing right in her direction. "You look like you'd know where he is." He looked her up and down. "You look like his type, too."

It didn't take a genius to know who he was talking about, yet Sally flashed an innocent smile even as she grated her teeth. "I'm not sure I follow… Who?"

"Lightning McQueen! Does no one in this damn town know where he went?"

As the stranger collapsed onto one of the counter stools, Sally caught Sheriff's gaze and he gave a subtle shake of his head.

Right.

Sally grabbed the damp rag off the edge of the counter and began wiping it down for the second time that evening. Keeping up the act of nonchalance was key.

"You know, his name does sound familiar…"

"Trust me." Mr. Terrain tapped a finger on the counter. "There's no way you'd miss him if he was here—and I know he's here."

She shrugged. "Sorry. I really wish I could help you. How long are you planning on staying in town? You know, the Cozy Cone Motel offers a free continental breakfast. I could book you for a few days right now, no problem."

"If everything goes smoothly, I'll be out of here early tomorrow morning. So thanks, but no thanks."

"Oh, of course," Sally returned, brightening her smile when she noticed its presence was only irritating him further. "One night it is, then."

"I don't think I made myself clear, sweetheart, but a small town motel isn't really my scene. Once I get everything sorted with Lightning, I'll check myself into the nearest hotel."

"Good luck with that," Sheriff muttered, graciously accepting the cup of coffee Flo slid to him from across the counter.

The stranger took his own cup without so much as an acknowledgement of Flo's presence.

Sally felt her grip on the dish towel tighten.

"So," Flo said, leaning against the countertop, "what brings you to Radiator Springs, and so late at night, too? No, don't tell me, let me guess: girl trouble. Or maybe you took a wrong turn. You know, everyone who comes through here always seems to be making a wrong turn. No, no." With a snap of her fingers, she stole whatever words had been about to come out of the stranger's open mouth. "You look like the kind of guy who'd be on the run from the IRS. Is that it?"

"What?" Mr. Terrain blinked. "What the hell are you talking about? No, I'm here to find my client. I'm Lightning McQueen's agent and he's been ghosting all my phone calls and text messages, which, by the way, strictly goes against our contract."

I wonder why he would ever want to ghost someone like you…

"Hmm… You know," Flo said, "Doc might know where he went. Why don't you try to get ahold of him?"

"If I could do that, do you think I'd be here right now?"

"I don't know, would you?"

The sheriff snorted, taking a long sip of his coffee before patting Mr. Terrain on the shoulder. A friendly gesture that was quickly shoved off.

"Now, why don't you just take it easy for a minute or two and stop harassing the townsfolk?"

An eye roll and a few muttered curses later, the agent had downed half his drink.

"It's getting late," Sally said, giving the clock on the wall a pointed glance. "If you're planning on staying the night, Mr. Terrain, you might want to start looking for a suitable hotel. I would be happy to give you a few recommendations, but last I checked, there hasn't been a running hotel here for close to two decades. I know a comfy bed and a door that leads outdoors instead of into a lavish lobby isn't really your scene, so I'm sure someone has a few blankets they could lend you to make the backseat of your car more comfortable. Have a good night and welcome to Radiator Springs, gateway to Ornament Valley; legendary for its quality service and friendly hospitality. Enjoy your stay!"

With that, she made her exit, brushing past Sarge and Fillmore on her way out.

Sucking in a breath of the fresh night air didn't do much to clear her head. Whoever this man was to Lightning, Sally was sure she didn't like him. There was something… off about the whole thing.

What, exactly, she had yet to figure out.

Two calls to Lightning's cell brought her straight to voicemail and her text messages wouldn't go through.

Which meant his phone was turned off.

Which meant there was definitely more to the agent's words than their shallow surface would suggest.

Sheriff seemed to know what was up, and if it had anything to do with why Lightning had been so distracted at his party that afternoon, then…

Then what?

Sally took another breath.

The man had mentioned something about being Lightning's agent—and something about a contract.

Maybe it was time to do a little digging on the internet. Just to give herself something to do until Lightning answered her calls, of course…

He didn't recognize the car, but the fact that it was being closely followed by the sheriff wasn't a good sign.

"Evening," Sheriff greeted, clearly waiting for the stranger to get out of his car. "Chilly out tonight, isn't it?"

"Better than last night," Sarge observed as he finished the last of his drink. Across from him, Fillmore dozed, head pillowed in his arms atop their usual table on Flo's patio.

"And worse than tomorrow," came Sheriff's reply. "The weatherman says we should be in for a warm spell."

Before Sarge could comment further, the stranger got out, slamming his car door when it became apparent that whoever he was trying to call wasn't going to answer.

"Damn kid," Sarge heard the man mutter as he pocketed the cell phone. "You know what?" He wagged a finger at Sheriff. "I bet he turned it off. I bet none of my calls are even going through anymore. Well, two can play at that game..."

"Aww, I'm sure his phone just needs a good charge. Like I said, his battery always seems to be—"

"I know what you said," the stranger snapped. "You also promised coffee, which better not be cold."

To his credit, Sheriff simply smiled—all while Sarge's frown deepened. "Right this way."

As the pair disappeared inside, Sarge took a glance through the window. Whatever the man was saying to Sally in there, it was no doubt more of the same.

He remembered a certain phone call taking up a considerable amount of Lightning's time after the tie-breaker race. An agent someone-or-other who was supposed to be there but couldn't make it…

Sarge didn't know this stranger from Adam, but something about him grated on the veteran's nerves. Something about the man told Sarge he was affiliated with the kid somehow.

Giving his companion a light shove, Sarge dialed Doc's number. As Fillmore slowly came to, a barely audible whisper filled Sarge's ear.

"Hello?"

"Doc, do you know where Lightning is?" Best to get straight to the point, Sarge had always believed.

A long beat of silence passed and he could practically hear the gears turning in Doc's head.

"Who wants to know?"

Not the answer Sarge was expecting, but one he could work with. "The owner of the Mercedes-Benz that just pulled up to Flo's."

Another brief pause, during which Fillmore muttered something unintelligible and Sarge silently motioned for him to quiet down. He was having a hard enough time hearing Doc as it was…

"Is he with you right now?"

"No, he just went inside with the sheriff."

A sigh filtered through the tiny speaker. "Whatever he wants is going to have to wait until tomorrow. The kid's asleep and is in no state to talk business."

"Doc, what's going on here?"

"What's going on?" Fillmore echoed, glancing at the foreign car.

"Shh! No, Doc, sorry, not you. Who is he?"

"Lightning's agent. He's here to try to get the kid to sign another contract. The other one's about to expire and let's just say… it'd be best for everyone involved if we sit back and let it do just that."

"Right, so you're talking a distraction, then?"

"I don't want any of you going overboard, but keeping him off the kid's scent for tonight would be much appreciated."

"Roger that."

"And if he asks," Doc added, "you haven't spoken with me since this afternoon."

"I honestly can't remember the last conversation we had," Sarge said, unable to hide his smirk.

"Perfect. Let me know if anything goes south."

"Sure thing, Doc."

Fillmore was studying the car by the time Sarge hung up.

"Man, how many visitors are we gonna get this month?"

Sarge raised a brow. "Are you complaining?"

"Nah, just curious, man. Just curious."

"Well, come on."

"Huh? What are we doing?" But Fillmore stretched up out of his seat all the same.

"See that guy in there?" Sarge stood and jerked his head toward the window.

"Man, he looks rich."

"That's not the point. He's Lightning's agent and Doc says he's bad news."

Fillmore took a moment to contemplate this, still trying to blink away the last vestiges of sleep. "So, what are we gonna do about it?"

"Operation Distraction." Sarge made his way to the door. "Meaning we keep him off the kid's scent until Doc gives the All Clear."

"Oh." Fillmore nodded, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Right on."

"We'll start by moving your van."

Sharing a knowing look, they maneuvered the old Volkswagen until Sarge was satisfied with its new parking spot.

"Right. Now, onto Phase Two."

They brushed past Sally on their way into the cafe and Sarge couldn't help but notice the deep trenches that were digging themselves between the girl's eyebrows.

As the door swung shut behind them, Sarge sent a quick text, then readied himself for battle.

"Was she serious?" The stranger was nursing a cup of coffee and an incredulous expression. "Not a single hotel in this town?"

"Well, now," Sheriff began, "there was the Wheel Well, but that went out of business years ago."

"Why am I not surprised?" Taking a gulp of his drink, the man suddenly snapped his fingers. "Mack. If the kid's here, he has to be here, too. They can't both be MIA."

Sarge cleared his throat and joined the group at the counter. "Last I heard, he was out cold in his bed. Drove straight through last night."

"Well, why don't you just go and wake him up?" The man was smiling, yet his tone betrayed a growing fury.

With a tight shake of his head, Sarge said, "You must be out of your mind if you think I'm going to wake a man who just got back from a seventeen hour drive."

"Oh, he's fine. That's his job; he's used to it."

"If that's the hill you want to die on, then be my guest."

Sucking in a breath, the stranger pursed his lips, his barely restrained frustration poisoning the atmosphere. "Fine. Where is he?"

Fillmore shrugged. "Beats me, man. But hey, if your car needs an oil change, then I've got just the stuff for you."

Instead of replying, the agent ran a hand through his hair and huffed. "Does no one know where anyone is in this town?"

From across the counter, Flo raised her hand, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I know where I am. I also know where my husband is: in bed. Which is where I'd like to be sooner than later, gents."

"Right." The sheriff tipped his hat and finished off his coffee. "Sorry, Flo. We'll be out of your hair in a second."

"I know where Sally is," Fillmore offered, nodding at the parking lot and earning a snort from Sheriff.

"I don't have time for this." Slapping a few bills on the counter, the agent rose and stalked toward the door.

Sheriff was on his case again in an instant. "Now, where are you off to?"

"What are you, my parole officer?" With a scoff, the stranger left the cafe, door slamming in his wake.

The sheriff made to follow, but Sarge waved him off. "Wait a minute, Sheriff. I don't think he'll get far."

Sheriff opened his mouth, his imminent question interrupted by the soft ding of the bell front bell. The agent had returned and Sarge tried not to bask in the sweet satisfaction of the man's now boiling rage.

"All right. Who's van is that?"

"Oh," Fillmore piped up, "that's mine, man. It's a 1960 VW. Wanna take it out for a spin?"

"I want you to get it out of here. You totally blocked me in!"

"My bad. Guess I didn't see you there."

A long moment crawled by in which Fillmore slumped sleepily against the counter and Sarge thanked Flo for serving him a quick cup of coffee.

The agent crossed his arms. "Well?"

"Well, what, man?"

"Are you going to move it or not?"

Fillmore knit his brows. "Move what?"

"Your van!"

"Oh! Yeah, man, sure. Just give me a minute or two. I didn't think you'd be leaving in such a hurry."

"I don't have a minute or two."

"Everyone has a minute or two," Fillmore replied easily. "You know what I think? I think you need to slow down and just… enjoy life. You know what I'm saying, man?"

The agent bit out a laugh at this. "All right. You've convinced me. You've convinced me. I am now one hundred percent certain that this entire town is conspiring against me. Well, let me tell you something—"

"Let me guess," Sheriff interjected with a slight yawn, "two can play at that game?"

Eyes narrowed, the stranger glared daggers at Sheriff. "Oh, you son-of-a—"

That's when Mater burst onto the scene and Sarge knew his earlier text had been received.

"Evenin' folks! Say, who's the proud owner of that shiny black car out there?" Grinning, he turned toward the agent. "That oughta be you, right? No way any of us could afford something like that." The stranger opened his mouth, but Mater wasn't finished.

Sarge just sat back and let himself enjoy the show.

"You know, I once towed a Mercedes-Benz from Houston all the way to Cancun! You ever been down there?"

"Look, I don't—"

"Oh, that's all right. I can tell ya all about it! You see, it was the rainy season and I had to drive straight through the biggest hurricane you ever done saw…"

"This is gonna take a while," Flo said with a smile and a light huff. "Would you boys mind helping me finish closing up here?"

Sheriff nodded. "Sure thing." He gave Fillmore a knowing grin. "You planning on moving your van?"

"You know I would, Sheriff…" The hippie shrugged, making a show of patting his pockets. "If I could only find my keys."

Smirking to himself, Sarge felt the VW keys burn in his jacket pocket.

"Besides," Fillmore added a moment later, "I think I'm stuck until Mater moves his truck."

Following Fillmore's gaze, Sarge noticed the rusty old tow truck parked barely a full inch behind the van.

Operation Distraction was working out exactly according to plan…

Red was watering the courthouse flowers when he got the message from Doc.

He didn't question it; didn't even give it much of a second thought.

After all, if it had anything to do with the commotion that had been going on in front of Flo's for the last twenty minutes—something about moving cars and trucks—then Red was all too happy to comply.

Switching off the breaker for the signal booster was easy and he was back to watering his flowers in no time at all.

Whatever Doc wanted with the breaker, he no doubt had a good reason.

When a black car sped down the road some time later, whipping into the Cozy Cone, Red barely gave it a second glance.

It was late.

And any self-respecting fireman would be a fool if he didn't take advantage of the quiet and get some rest.

Whatever was going on, Red was sure he'd hear about it tomorrow. This was a small town, after all. News traveled like wildfire.

But whatever that news might be…

It could wait until tomorrow.

There wasn't anything, really, that couldn't wait.