Matt took her ribbing and offered his own, but never went too far.

When Monday morning rolled around, Erin promised herself she’d get up early and have Matt drive her home so she could get to work.

He threatened to rent a car for her if she didn’t do so by midweek.

So when the phone rang while they were drinking coffee, and Ed identified himself, Erin was feeling pretty confident that maybe they had some answers.

That wasn’t the case.

“Good morning,” Erin said. She placed her phone on speaker and put it on the table between her and Matt.

“Good morning. I have my report ready for the insurance company. But I wanted to call you before I sent it in.”

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Actually, the engine is in pretty good shape. But the bodywork inside and out is gonna be expensive. I’ve seen insurance companies go both ways on jobs like this. I’m still leaning toward them sending it to the scrap yard.”

“Hey, Ed, it’s Matt. We have you on speaker. Any chance you found a recall?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling.”

Erin’s hope surged.

“There wasn’t any brake fluid in your car.”

“That explains why the brakes didn’t work,” Matt said.

“So the question is why. We found a hole in the right rear brake lines.”

Erin watched Matt for direction.

He shrugged. “So there’s the issue.”

“Yeah, but since it was late on Friday and we wanted to get this off the blocks, I had two guys looking at it at the same time. And we found the other line with a bigger hole in almost the exact same place.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Matt said. Concern danced on his face.

“I don’t understand,” Erin said, mainly to Matt.

“Me either. I came in this morning and took a second look. The hoses were in great shape. Shouldn’t have worn out for another couple years. Again, I figured it must be a manufacturer issue. One hose I can chalk up to a bad line, but two that are in the exact same place and clean cuts . . . If this had been a fatality accident, someone would be taking these hoses to a forensic lab to find out what happened so someone could be sued.”

“A recall?”

“Has to be. Only other time I saw something like this on a newer car was when a woman got mad at her boyfriend and cut the line on purpose.” Ed laughed.

Erin laughed with him for the space of two seconds, then she froze. Desmond.

Matt was staring at her. “You know what, Ed . . . can you take those lines off and maybe give us a contact on who to send them to, to look at further?”

“No problem.”

Matt finished the call and hung up.

Each breath became difficult.

“Erin?”

“What if this wasn’t an accident?”

“We don’t know that.”

Erin saw just enough doubt in Matt’s eyes to scare her more. “He said he would find me if I ever left.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

She stood, felt the need to move. “Are you suggesting this didn’t cross your mind when Ed laughed at the scorned woman?”

“What crossed my mind is that you would jump to that end point. Does cutting a brake line match your ex’s MO?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Think, hon. Has anything else even remotely felt off? Anyone following you? Strange phone calls? Anything?”

She couldn’t think. “No . . . I don’t know. But I know he doesn’t have any family in Greece.”

Matt narrowed his eyes. “I’m not following you.”

“Renee, my attorney. She called last week to tell me he was delaying again because of some family emergency in Greece.”

Matt started to smile. “See. He’s not in the country. He couldn’t do this.”

“He could have paid someone to do it.” Even as she said it, she knew Desmond wouldn’t give someone else the task of harming her. He liked to do that personally.

“Does that sound like him?”

Erin sat back down. “No.”

“Deep breath. Okay. There is a rational explanation. We’ll find it.”

Desmond sat across the bar twisting his wedding band and watching people as they occupied the seats in the busy establishment. His patience was growing thin. If things didn’t start going right for him, someone, somewhere was going to have to pay.

Slowly each seat at the bar started to fill until there was only the one next to him. Twice someone attempted to sit beside him. Twice he politely suggested he was waiting for someone.

The bartender was somewhere around twenty-five and had tattoos on both arms and a purple streak in her hair. She’d actually introduced herself when he sat down and reached across the counter to shake his hand. He felt strangely violated and didn’t offer his name. When she wasn’t looking, he wiped his hands on the cloth napkin at his side. At least this shithole could carry off a proper napkin.

He looked at his watch. Almost showtime.

That’s when he saw her.

Desmond skirted his eyes to the side and pushed over on his barstool and stared into his drink.

She walked up to the bar and sat a bag on the stool. “Hey, Maddie.”

So she knew the bartender.

Maddie turned around and lifted a hand. “Hey.”

The woman beside him caught Desmond’s eyes and she paused. “Is this seat taken?”

He shook his head. “No, no. Please.”

She smiled and slid beside him.

Maddie walked over and pointed at a wineglass. “Chardonnay, or are you thinking red?”

“Better stick with white. Red goes to my head faster.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Maddie asked.

“I’m meeting someone for the first time, I don’t want to look like a professional.”

The two of them laughed.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“A right swipe.”

Maddie groaned. “The worst. If you need an exit, let me know. I’ll help you out.”

The two of them fist-bumped before his companion sipped her wine and looked at her phone.

Desmond waited a minute before he directed his words to his left. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What’s a right swipe?”

She looked up at him like he’d just landed on the planet. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He reached for his drink and made sure his wedding ring hit the glass.

She took notice and laughed. “Oh, you’re married. I guess that makes sense. It’s a dating app. You right swipe when you like the person on the other end.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand.

“Oh . . . is that how it’s done now?”

“Sometimes.”

“And it works?”

“Not very often or I wouldn’t be sitting here. Well, I might be sitting here, but I wouldn’t be waiting on someone who’s late.” She glanced at her phone and took another look around the bar.

Desmond forced a sigh. “I suppose I need to figure that out.”

She did a double take. “Excuse me?”