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When asked about the racing event previously discussed, Dr. Soto received a momentary widening of the eyes and an emphatic exhalation from the dog sitting across from her. Reid stretched his arms out over the back of the couch and leaned back into it with shifting eyes, as though he were searching for words out of thin air.

"It was interesting, to say the least."

"How so?"

"So Vance, my manager, he put on a show with his band to cap off the night. Long story short, his drummer is my daughter, Lucy. She was also in the race."

Dr. Soto looked up at him and laid her tablet down for a moment.

"You're certain that it's her?"

"I am. I'm positive, and I can show you the paperwork to prove it. I did a little espionage. I took a piece of gum she'd been chewing out of the trash. Kinda gross, I know. Took it to a clinic yesterday and had it tested against a buccal swab they took from me. It's a match."

"Does she know?"

"No. She wasn't even a year old when I left, there's no way that she would remember me."

"Do you plan to tell her?"

The question stopped him in his tracks. It was a hot-button issue; one that he'd been thinking about ever since he first saw her.

"She didn't have a job. So I hired her on as an employee at Doghouse. I thought it might be a win-win situation for everyone involved. She'll have found gainful employment, and I'll be able to be a part of her life. But do I plan to tell her? Maybe one day. Maybe one day, it will be the right time and place for it, but for now, I'd best keep it under wraps."

"Do you feel as though the role you'll play in her life from here on out will assuage the guilt you feel over leaving?"

"I feel..." He stopped. He didn't know what he felt. "I feel like I should have been there for her. I feel that I should have at the very least given it a shot. That if I had known what I know now, that I could have been a better father than what she had back home."

"You've said in the past that you haven't spoken to your ex-wife since you left, is that still true?"

"Yes."

"So I imagine that you've spoken to Lucy at length about her history, and where she comes from?"

"I did, yes. Lunch, yesterday. We ate together at the event, and exchanged some of our history, you know, just getting to know one another. She's claiming to be twenty-two years old and from Tucson, neither of which is true. She's eighteen and she's from Deer Park, Texas. Best I can gather, she dropped out of High School and took off out west. Must be in her blood." He added with a dry laugh, tipping his hat to himself.

"How do you think she would react if you were to come clean? Do you believe that maybe she would do the same?"

"She's a flight risk, I think. I haven't built enough trust with her yet, I've barely built a rapport. I don't even know if she would believe me - and what if she did? How would that look? I never knew my biological father either, but if he came to me now, and wanted to suddenly be a part of my life, and have a father-son relationship with me, I would probably punch his fuckin' lights out; excuse me."

They sat in silence for a few terse seconds.

"Lucy came to California to get away from a family she never felt like she was a part of. She came here to get away from people who didn't appreciate her. Not being appreciated is one thing. But to be unwanted?" He shook his head, "Having a professional, work-environment relationship with her is probably the best that I'll ever have. It's more than I deserve, really."

"Reid, if you think that you can be happy with that, and you think that the two of you can benefit from the circumstances you're facing right now, then I think that's what you should do. No one knows what's best for you more than you do. Just remember, Lucy is an adult now. And the same goes for her."

He nodded. If there was one thing life had taught him in the last year, it was to never take the little moments for granted. To live in the moment, and make each day count for all its worth, considering the next one was never guaranteed.

***

Randal had been found hanging with his toes hovering six inches from the painted concrete floor in the garage of his Beverly Hills home. The coroner assumed on sight that he had likely been there for several hours, given the condition of his neck upon arrival. Paul had cut him down with a pair of hedge clippers and begun CPR, but it was too late. Randal was cold, stiff, and without pulse or respiration.

"Mr. Owen, I hate to put it this way, but given the circumstances, the county's going to rule it as a suicide. There's no evidence of foul play, no sign of a break-in or a struggle. The best we can hope for is something fishy on the toxicology report, but that still doesn't prove anything." Deputy Sheriff Robert Boxhall explained, trying his best to be compassionate to the bereaved bear.

"I'm telling you, he told me flat out! He said 'you take from me, I take from you'. Now he's a smart guy, I know how he thinks! This is exactly the kind of thing I would expect of him; can't you go off of probable cause? Motive?"

"Mr. Owen, look. We have no witnesses here. None of the neighbors saw anyone come or go from the house in the hours this could have happened between, besides, even if we made an arrest, there wouldn't be evidence sufficient enough for it to go to trial. Your suspect's got tons of allies that will vouch for him and say that he was at 'X' location at 'Y' time."

Paul sat down and placed his face in his hands. Terri was in a nearby ambulance being tended to for shock while the authorities loaded Randal's covered body into the coroner's van.

"It wasn't a suicide...he was just fine! He had a great life! Why would he do this?"

"It's not always so easy to see from the outside looking in, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Owen. I know that it can be hard to accept losing a family member to...this."

Deputy Boxhall started on about grief counseling and other services that they could offer to the Owen family, but Paul had tuned him out. Instead, he sat there catatonic on the front porch, watching the coroner's van drive away with his son's mortal coil. He watched Terri slowly succumb to calm as the medication she'd been given for her hysterics finally took effect.

Paul's life began to flash before his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he was in for the big one. No, he simply harkened back to everything he'd done in life that he regretted. Bad things. Things he'd yet to make peace with in life. And as he watched the coroner's van drive away, he thought they might finally be catching up to him.

***

"Do you, Vance Wayne Gillis take Blaine Marcum to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

Reid stood next to and just behind Vance with his hands folded in front of him. Like the pit bull, he wore his best blue jeans - those with the fewest grease stains. He wore python hide cowboy boots on his feet, and a Shelby Cobra T-shirt on his back. Vance wore cowboy boots of a less ostentatious hide, shined to a conservative finish, and a button-down dress shirt for a touch of class that he rarely found. Blushing bride Blaine beamed at her beau, clutching a small bouquet of flowers in front of a white and green sundress. Behind her, her best friend bore witness to the courthouse shotgun wedding, which had been decidedly intimate with a promise to family members that there would one day be a full ceremony at a church.

Reid couldn't help but be a little jealous as he watched the newlyweds kiss. He brought his right hand over his left and ran his thumb over the tachymetre-inlaid bezel of his watch, remembering the days when he would lie awake in bed at night and dream like a teenage girl of the day that he might one day marry the man of his dreams. Those days were long gone, but the memories were as fresh as the night they'd first materialized. He decided, for Vance and Blaine Gillis, he wouldn't dwell on the matter.

After the ceremony, everyone caravanned over to Blaine's parents' house just north of San Dimas for the reception, complete with a celebratory dinner. It was only a small get together, so the fifty-footer sat unused around back while Hoyt made use of a standard, stainless-steel, gas-powered beauty of a grill to cook some equally decadent steaks. The living room had been set with card tables, overlaid with tablecloths on loan from Hoyt and Darla's church.

"...So when I see this long-haired, greasy, garage-band rocker walk into the shop, my immediate thought is 'oh, God help us all'." Reid explained, standing there next to Vance and Blaine, laughing along with everyone as he recounted the tale of when the pit bull first came to work at the shop a decade ago, "Vance, how long was your hair back then?"

"About down to here." He chuckled, drawing an imaginary line to the middle of his back. Several laughed with surprise, others from the memory of it. Reid laughed, and shook his head.

"I remember the day you got it stuck in the pulley on that blower we were putting in, and I had to cut you out! You had this one section..." Reid laughed and played with an imaginary strand of hair that had been cut shorter than all the rest while Vance chuckled dryly at the memory.

"That was the last time I ever had my hair that long, and for good reason." He remarked just before Reid's best man speech was cut short by a phone the heeler could have sworn he put on silent before he started. He silenced it with the mash of a button and continued.

"Yeah, Vance was green once upon a time. I remember the days of training him. He caught on quick, and I could tell that he had a real passion for what we do. He's a passionate guy, but he's also committed. And when it comes to marriage, that's indispensible. I watched him go through a lot of different relationships before he and Blaine got together, and I could just tell from the way he looked at her and talked about her that one day I'd be standing right here, giving this speech. And I just have to say, I'm really happy that these two have found one another." He said, gesturing to the newlyweds and receiving smiles and nods in agreement. Reid found himself fighting back tears.

"You're my best friend, Vance. I'm really happy for you. I'm happy for both of you. To Vance and Blaine!" He raised his glass, and everyone repeated the comment and gesture. Reid sat down, and Blaine's bestie stood at the table to deliver a speech as well. Furtively as he could, the cattle dog dug out his phone and saw that he had a missed call from Paul, who had been noticeably absent from the occasion.

What's up? His thumb tapped the screen.

Call me. Now.

_ _

"Excuse me." He whispered in Vance's ear and shot out from the table, standing up and exiting just as Blaine's friend finished her speech. Out the front door, he went, and leaning against one of the porch's support posts, he mashed the button to call his old boss.

"Reid."

"Paul, what's going on?"

"Listen, Reid..." The bear's voice sounded shaky. Something was definitely amiss, and it wasn't often that the ever-confident ursine sounded like he didn't have a grip on things. "Reid, a lot of stuff has been going on. It's a long story. Listen to me very carefully. If you see or hear that motorcycle gang again, especially if they come on the property, I want you to lock the doors and call the police immediately."

"Paul. Tell me what's going on, what happened?"

"There's no time for that. I have to work some things out, it may take some time, okay? I'd advise you to start keeping the gate to the back locked from now on."

"Okay." Reid responded, long since having learned that it was unwise to question the bear when he was as adamant about something.

"Make sure Vance knows too. Make sure everyone knows."

"I will."

"Thanks."

"I'm worried, now."

"Don't be. Everything is under control. Just be on heightened alert around the shop, all right?"

"Yeah, sure. Hey, will we have a chance to talk soon?"

"Reid, you know I'm always around if you need to talk to me. Right now just isn't the best time for us to meet. I'm sorry."

"Vance is hurt you couldn't make it to his wedding." He replied, keeping his voice down.

"I know. Tell him I'm sorry, I've sent them a gift in the mail. It should be there in the next few days. I'm going to be out of town for a couple of weeks yet. Keep me posted if anything happens."

"All right."

"I'll call you soon, son. I promise."

"Okay."

Paul hung up. Reid stared at the home screen on his phone for a few seconds before dropping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

He made it inside just in time to see Vance and Blaine cut the cake.

***

A sliding gate, wide enough for two cars to pass through side by side sat to the right of the building, leading into the back where to the left the bay doors were, and to the right, the race track and staging area. Reid walked outside and locked it once everyone had arrived.

"We're all on heightened security right now. It's important that we keep a close eye on who comes and goes from the shop."

"What's going on with Paul?" Frank inquired.

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me on the phone. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, you remember how sometimes Paul would get an idea in his head and just blow it out of proportion? I think something's got him spooked. Either way, I trust him, so let's not take any unnecessary chances." He turned to Lucy, "You still want to work here, right?"

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, hell yeah." She grinned.

"All right. I think that covers just about everything for the meeting this morning, anyone got anything to add?"

Hector burped into his fist.

"Nice, dude."

Time to work on one's own vehicle was a hot commodity around DPE. Of course, customers' cars came first, as the crew wasn't paying their own salaries. A rare moment of peace and quiet in the garage was abruptly ended by the starting of an old E36 BMW M3, its modest motor whispering through its tailpipes as Reid brought it around to the lift.

"I know it's not like what you had." Vance said, clapping his band mate on the shoulder and shooting a glance over to the surf green '69 Chevelle sitting dormant on the furthest lift, looking broken, sad, and depressed, "But when we throw this Ls1 engine in here, this thing will rule the track."

"A Corvette engine in a BMW." Lucy remarked, smirking at the M3, "Don't you think that's a little, y'know...trashy?"

"Trashy?" Vance echoed, taken aback. "No, no. No. No. It's..." He gesticulated smoothly and widely while he searched for the right combination of words to convince the skeptical Lucy that the package was going to be something worth driving, "It's uh..."

"...One set of chrome rims and a spoiler away from looking like something Bubba would drive?"

"Yeah." Vance said at last, accepting defeat. Whatever. She'd just bought the thing from him for a grand, and he had a stack of twenties in his pocket that was going to bail him out of the constant ass-chewing he got from Blaine about the car. Maybe he'd use it to pay off her ring.

Or the turbo.

"That LS1 needs new piston rings and a new belt. That's small potatoes compared to what we're going to have to do to get the Chevelle fixed, though. I'll need to order the tranny for this one, too."

"You don't have a T56 lying around?" Lucy asked seriously, referring to the corresponding Borg-Warner transmission. Reid turned to look at her, surprised.

"You know more about this stuff than I originally thought."

"I've done my research." She smiled and flipped her hair out of her face with a shake of her head. Reid stared for a moment, simply marveling at how beautiful she'd grown up to be. He could still remember the day she was born. It made him proud. He was proud to know that he was the father of such a magnificent young lady, even though she didn't know it. Eventually, he would have to accept the fact that their relationship would never be a traditional one. That fact, he figured, was something he would need to come to terms with. What he had for the moment, he decided, was good enough.

"I knew it was a good decision to hire you. And no, unfortunately not. I can get it in here in the next couple of days though." Lucy nodded silently, screwing the cap back onto a bottle of water. They went to work removing the front end on the BMW. Reid didn't speak for a while, only opening his mouth when he noticed that she only stopped for a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow, not batting an eye as it rolled down her face. He closed it. She was in her zone, and there was nothing he could say that could be construed as a compliment, encouragement, or praise. Anything worth saying would already be well known, so he decided to carry on as usual. She was picking it up fast, and over the next several months, she would grow from a mere apprentice into the daughter Reid had hoped for when Josie was pregnant with her. When he looked at her, he imagined a little girl in a flowery dress, peeking curiously into the engine bay, but what he saw was much, much different. He saw a grown woman. Mature beyond her years. More skilled than someone of her age should be. It wrenched his heart and made him proud at the same time.

"Reid?"

He turned around. Vance was sticking his head through the door.

"Paul's on the phone."

***

"Paul?"

"Reid. How's everything over there at the shop?"

"It's going good, we're a little on the slow side, but hey, you know. It's the season for that. What's up?"

Paul let out a long, drawn-out sigh before he finally managed to speak. Whatever it was, Reid knew the news wasn't going to be good.

"Reid, I'm sorry I've been so distant. I haven't been in the best of shape, but...Terri and I were going to Randal's house a few days before the wedding for dinner, we found him, he...he hanged himself in the garage."

Reid found himself attempting to keep his balance by leaning on the desk. With care and precision, he walked around to where the chair was, never taking his hand from the desk. Once the worn, faux-leather chair was behind him, he fell back into it, staring off into space. Paul wept on the other end of the line, and he did a good job of hiding it.

"I don't know what to say." He finally croaked out.

"County Medical Examiner ruled it as a suicide." Paul followed up once he'd cleared the tears out of his voice.

Beat.

"You don't think it was?"

"I think it was made to look like one."

Reid shook his head, silent. Paul took the question right out of his mouth and answered it.

"This is all about John."

"John?"

"Yeah. That cougar that came in on the bike. You don't think he looked just a little bit familiar? That's his pop. Guy by the name of Dallas O'Dell. Runs the Bitten MC out of LA."

Reid sat back in the chair and took a moment for everything to sink in. Everything was falling into place, albeit slowly.

"Paul, why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"Shit, son, I thought I could work it out on my own. I didn't want to drag you, or Vance, or any of the guys into this, and God help me, I'm going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening. Just continue to be safe and keep security tight around there."

"Yeah." He nodded, "Okay. But shouldn't this guy understand? I mean it was a legitimate self-defense scenario-"

"You can't reason with these guys, Reid! There's no winning with them, the best you can hope for is that they show a little mercy. So much for that..."

"Doesn't this guy understand that you were doing him a favor?"

"I'm sure he does. But blood runs thicker than water."

Reid paused for a moment to wet his lips, "There's a lot you haven't told me, isn't there?"

"You'll find that out when the time's right, son." Paul said, characteristically cryptic. Reid sighed silently and sat back in the chair. The conversation was wrapped up after that, though it left the cattle dog yearning for more. He never realized just how much he was going to miss the old bear. It frustrated him to know that he was powerless to alleviate the pain and grief Paul was going through, but deep down, he knew that he didn't have to worry.

***

"Blaine's been seeing some doctor lately." Vance explained later that night over a beer and some friendly competition with Reid over a video game.

"Yeah, for her pregnancy?"

"Yeah. I mean, she's got her OB/GYN and whoever else, but this one...the way she talks about him, I'm not sure if he's even a real doctor."

"No?"

"He's one of those spiritual faith healers, or whatever they're called. It's some sort of new-age, pre-natal care that's supposedly becoming more popular. One of Blaine's friends recommended it; she said it helped her out with everything from the first trimester all the way to coping with post-partum depression."

"I guess that doesn't sound too harmful."

"No, I guess not. It's probably a giant waste of money, but if it makes her feel better to light some incense and do yoga, then I'm cool with it. I'm cool, you know? I want to be the cool dad."

Reid laughed, "I know it. I wanted to be the cool dad. I ended up being the nonexistent dad..."

Vance coughed and got up from the couch to grab another beer. Reid was imbibing in a tall glass of iced tea, his new beverage of choice. He kept beer around for when friends like Vance came over - having it in his fridge was temptation incarnate, but he felt a sense of accomplishment every time he ignored it.

"Yeah."

"I always saw my friends' parents embarrassing them as we were growing up. I guess I lucked out in that department, considering mine were never around. So I knew what not to be, I guess. I think that I didn't have a role model for how to be, though. Maybe that's why I gave up. Why I left..."

"I think you would have made a good parent." Vance commented.

"You know what? That's what Lucy said too. She said that I would have been a great Dad. I told her I didn't have any kids when she asked."

"What brought that on?"

"What?"

"Her asking if you had any kids or not."

"Ah, something to do with the beneficiary for the race. Amber, the little girl."

"Oh." Vance mouthed and started to take another drink, but stopped short, "Oh! Hey, I completely forgot, dude. Remember the mother, Erin?"

"Yeah?"

"She wanted me to give you this." The pit bull dug his wallet out of the back pocket of his designer jeans and reached into it, producing a small, folded slip of paper, handing it to the other dog, "I think she wants you to call her."

Reid took the note from him, inscribed with just a number, no message.

"Well thanks for giving me this now! It's been how long?"

"Sorry."

"I wonder what she wants."

"I think she might want to show you an expression of her gratitude." Vance said, getting a look from the heeler, "What? Hey, that's not a dirty statement unless you make it so." He pointed. The heeler's eyes flicked back to the note.

"Think about it. What could happen if you took her out on a date? You two might hit it off, and decide to go out a second time, then a third, and a fourth, next thing you know you're filling the daddy shoes for that little girl."

"Well that escalated quickly."

"Think about it! It's not exactly far-fetched."

"No, no it's not..."

Vance leaned forward and set his beer down on a coaster shaped like Texas, "You know what? You're long overdue for some credit. You're a well-established and successful guy. Quit dwelling on the past!" He popped the heeler on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

"I'm not dwelling on the past."

"Let me have that watch, then."

"Yeah, sure, that'll be six thousand dollars!" Reid laughed.

"Nooo, Blaine would kill me! She would shove it down my windpipe and suffocate me with it." Vance started to reach for his beverage, but like clockwork, his phone began to ring. It was as if Blaine's money sense had begun to tingle the moment her husband started talking about spending money, even in jest. He thumbed the green button and brought the phone up.

"Hey babe..."

Reid sipped at his tea, pretending not to listen to the incomprehensible speech coming from the other line.

"I'm over at Reid's house. I'll be home soon...I don't know, an hour? O...okay. Okay. Sure...yeah, love you too. See you." He ended the call, "I gotta go. Sorry, man."

"It's all good. Hey, we're grown-ups. We can play X-Box anytime." Reid joked.

"That's right." Vance answered, laughing. The pit bull rose from the leather sofa and walked over to the kitchen counter, where he grabbed his keys and wallet. It made him feel bad to leave sooner than he'd planned. He knew Reid wasn't going to be offended, but he was still his best friend, and when you're married, best friends are crucial to maintaining sanity. Sage advice passed onto him from Hoyt.

"Hey, drive safe out there, all right?"

"Sure, man." They hugged quickly, and the pit bull was gone. Reid paused at the door for a few seconds, stared down at the hardwood floor, and then shook his head. He sat back down on the couch and grabbed the slip of paper with Erin's number on it. It was a little too late in the day to call, but he would tack it up on the refrigerator door as a reminder for the next morning.

***

Two states away in rural Wyoming, Paul stoked the fire in his hunting cabin. It was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the crackle of the logs in the fireplace and the hiss of the gas stove behind him. He turned and lumbered over to the stove, where he stirred a pot of beans over the fire, staring down into their number while he turned the spoon in the pot.

That would be dinner. Beans and beans alone, for Paul had understandably had little appetite since the day he'd discovered Randal. He was already beginning to lose weight, and his pants hung looser about his hips, kept up only by his suspenders. It wasn't as though he had much choice, as there was so little food in the cabin anyway. He sat on the couch with his supper, alone with his thoughts. No TV. No radio. No Terri.

Once sated, he set the bowl in the sink and walked over to a large gun safe against the wall by the fireplace. Inside were some weapons, most of which were used for hunting. He began to dig into the furthest reaches of the safe, passing up the .270 WSM he used for feral deer and the .300 Weatherby Magnum used for elk, eventually finding what he was looking for in the form of his old United States Marine Corps-issued M40 sniper rifle, the .308 Winchester used for a much different - and far more dangerous - type of game.

Hunting season, he decided, was officially in.