Three Minutes

Three expert mechanics had failed to start the $16,000 Shovelhead, but the homeless fifteen-year-old who walked into Reed Halvorson’s shop looking for a bathroom found the problem in less than three minutes.

Now the motorcycle was running.

And somehow, that had become the least important thing in the room.

Brix Deodato sat on an old wooden chair near Reed’s workbench, both hands wrapped around the canvas bag he carried everywhere. Across from him sat Odom Kestrel, sixty-two years old, president of the Wind River Riders and a retired sheriff’s deputy who had spent most of his adult life learning when people were lying.

Brix was not lying.

That was what bothered Odom.

The dark mark along the teenager’s jaw was already fading at the edges, but Odom had seen enough injuries during his years in law enforcement to know it had not come from an ordinary fall.

He leaned forward.

“Son… tell me who did that.”

Brix tightened his grip on the bag.

“There’s a man behind the diner,” he whispered. “Three nights ago, he came outside carrying a piece of pipe.”

Reed stopped wiping his hands.

Odom’s face changed.

“What man?”

Brix looked toward the shop window as if expecting someone to be standing outside.

“I don’t know his name.”

“Did he hit you?”

Brix hesitated.

Then nodded.

Reed’s jaw tightened.

“What happened?”

Brix stared at the floor.

“I was sleeping behind Wanda’s. There’s a little covered place near the dumpsters where the rain doesn’t get in much. I’d been there a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?” Reed said. “You told me you’ve been in Cody since April.”

“I moved around before that.”

Odom kept his voice calm.

“Why did the man come after you?”

Brix rubbed his thumb along a torn seam in his canvas bag.

“I think he wanted me gone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Odom watched him carefully.

“Did he say anything?”

Brix swallowed.

“He asked what I was looking for.”

Reed frowned.

“What were you looking for?”

For the first time since entering the motorcycle shop, Brix did not answer.

The silence stretched.

Odom noticed it immediately.

“Brix.”

The boy’s eyes stayed on the floor.

“I wasn’t looking for anything.”

Odom sat back.

That was the first thing the boy had said that Odom did not believe.

Before he could ask again, Reed walked toward the Shovelhead.

The motorcycle stood on the lift beneath the bright shop lights, its polished metal reflecting everything around it. For eleven weeks it had been Reed’s biggest problem.

Now one scrape of powder coating had fixed it.

Reed looked at the exposed metal beneath the ground strap.

Then he looked at Brix.

“How did you know?”

Brix glanced up.

“Know what?”

“The ground.”

Brix shrugged.

“I’ve seen it before.”

“Where?”

“My mom taught me.”

Reed stared at him.

“Your mother taught you motorcycle electrical systems?”

A faint smile appeared on Brix’s face.

“She taught me everything.”

It was the first time Reed had seen the boy smile.

It disappeared almost immediately.

Odom noticed that too.

“What was your mother’s name?”

Brix’s fingers stopped moving.

“Elena.”

“And where is Elena now?”

Brix looked down again.

“She passed away in January.”

The room became quiet.

Reed’s anger softened.

“I’m sorry.”

Brix nodded once.

“She was sick for a long time.”

Odom glanced at Reed.

“How did you end up here?”

Brix answered carefully.

“After Mom was gone, I stayed with someone she knew in Idaho for a while.”

“What happened?”

“It didn’t work.”

“What does that mean?”

Brix’s shoulders tightened.

“It means I left.”

Odom recognized the boundary and decided not to push it yet.

“Why Cody?”

Another hesitation.

“My mom used to talk about Wyoming.”

“That’s a big state.”

“She talked about Cody.”

Reed turned around.

“What did she say about Cody?”

Brix’s eyes moved toward the Shovelhead.

“Just stories.”

“What kind?”

“She said she knew people here once.”

Reed and Odom exchanged a glance.

Something was missing.