Blood Trail - By Tanya Huff Page 0,83

truth and he had no right to butt in.

"What's up?" Peter followed his sister into the kitchen and looked from Vicki to Celluci, nostrils flared. There were some strange scents in the air.

"Vicki's just deciding who's going to be driving into town," Nadine told him.

"Rose," Peter said promptly. "I'm still traumatized from yesterday."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You want to sit with your head out the window."

He grinned. "That, too."

"I'm driving because we're taking my car."

The twins turned as one to look at Vicki.

I should tell him to go home and this time make it stick, even if I have to break a few bones. I don't need his high-handed help.

Reading her indecision, Peter moved a step closer, and lowered his voice. "Uh, Vicki, about him being around, I don't think Henry's going to approve."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. What the hell did Henry have to do with this? She grabbed her purse up off the floor and headed for the door. "What are you standing around for?" she snapped as she passed Celluci. "I thought you were driving."

Celluci glanced speculatively at Peter, then followed.

"What was all that about?" Peter wondered as the twins hurried to catch up. "Why did Aunt Nadine start laughing?"

"You really don't know?"

"No. I really don't."

Rose sighed and shook her head. "Peter, you are such a dork sometimes."

"Am not."

"Are too."

They'd have continued the argument all the way into London if Vicki hadn't threatened to muzzle them both.
Chapter Twelve
"There's your problem."

Vicki peered down into the engine of Henry's BMW. Nothing looked obviously wrong. "Where's the problem?"

"There." The mechanic pointed with the screwdriver he held. "Brakeline, up by the master cylinder."

"There's something wrong with the brakeline?"

"Yeah. Holed."

"What do you mean, holed?"

The mechanic sighed. His expression said "Women!" as clearly as if he'd spoken the word aloud. "Holed. Like, not solid."

"Someone put a hole in it?" It took a moment for the implications of that to sink in. Had the stakes just gone up? Had the killer become aware of her involvement and decided to do something about it? She frowned; that didn't fit the established pattern. Suddenly the air in the garage, already redolent with iron and oil and gasoline, grew thicker and harder to breathe.

"Didn't say someone did it. See here?" He lifted the black rubber hose on the end of his screwdriver. "Rubbed against that piece of metal. Rubbed just right between the ribs and broke through." Shrugging, he let the hose drop. "Happens. Brakes work for a while but lose fluid. Lose enough fluid and... "A greasy finger cut a line across his throat.

"Yes, I know." Vicki straightened. "I was there. So you'll be telling the police... ?"

"Accident. Tough luck. Nobody's fault." He shrugged again and turned to shake his head at the destroyed side of the car. "Hard to believe everyone walked away. Lucky."

Very lucky, Vicki realized. Death had missed her by less than a couple of feet and if Rose had been riding on the passenger side, she wouldn't have survived. Holding her glasses on her nose, Vicki bent over the brakeline again; something didn't look right.

"Why the hell would anyone build a car so that the brakeline rubbed?"

She could hear the shrug in the mechanic's voice. "Could be 'cause it's an old car. Built in '76, things go wrong. Could've been a mistake on the line. No two cars are exactly alike."

All right, it made sense, bad luck and nothing more had put her and Rose and Peter in the car when that little mistake had paid off. Jesus, if you can't count on a BMW...

Except... There were two spots bracketing the tear where the yellow markings on the hose showed brighter, places where accumulated dirt could have rubbed off on someone's fingers as they gave that little mistake a helping hand. Careful not to touch the rubber, Vicki pressed her finger against the protruding bit of metal that had done the actual damage. While not exactly sharp, it held a definite edge.

"Suppose you wanted to hole someone's brakeline and yet made it look like an accident," she gestured down into the engine, "how long would it take you to duplicate that?"

The mechanic looked speculative. "Not long."

They'd been in the restaurant for an hour and a half. Plenty of time.

Intrigued by the idea, he reached down into the car. "I'd grab it here... "

"Don't touch it!"

He jerked back as though stung. "You don't think... "

"I don't think I want to take any chances. I want you to call the police. I have the