Paul shook his head. “I’m not hiring a high school kid.” He pointed at Jack. “And if you’re smart, you won’t let one of them anywhere near your sled, especially with a wrench in his hand. We’re talking about cutting-edge technology here.”

“Which they’re teaching at the tech school in Greenville,” Jack countered. “Those kids are more knowledgeable about today’s engines than you probably are. It’s no longer simple high school shop, it’s vocational-technical schooling.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Who are we talking about? What’s the kid’s name?”

“Tommy Cleary.”

“No way! I’m not letting that brat anywhere near my shop!” His face reddened and he pointed at Jack again. “And you expect…you’re asking me to leave Tommy Cleary in my shop after-hours?” he sputtered. “Alone?” He shook his head. “I’d be robbed blind!”

“Or you’d find yourself with the best damn mechanic you’ve had in years,” Jack calmly returned. “From all accounts, Tommy’s a genius when it comes to anything mechanical.”

“Says who?”

“Say his tech teachers,” Jack told him, stepping closer and lowering his voice when a man and woman walked into the showroom. “He did a damn good job on my cruiser. And his teachers tell me Tommy can troubleshoot problems better than a mechanic with twenty years of experience. The boy’s got a gift, Dempsey, and it’s being wasted.”

“No,” Paul growled, his attention going to the young couple eyeing the sporty racing sled in the front window. The man was sitting on it while the woman was studying the price tag. Paul looked back at Jack. “No. No. No!”

“Do you have any idea what it would do to Joan Cleary to have her boys taken away from her?” Jack asked, moving to block Paul’s view of his customers.

“Goddammit, Stone, that’s not fair. Tommy’s been in trouble before, you know. All of the Cleary kids have. I know Joan Cleary’s had a rough go of it, but I will not hire that juvenile delinquent son of hers.”

“Why not?” Jack asked calmly, again moving to block Paul’s view.

Paul glared at him. “Why not? Dammit, because…because he’s just a kid!”

“He turned eighteen last week. He graduates in three months, and you’ll be able to have him full time after that. Can you imagine how much his paycheck would help out his mother?”

“No. No. No!”

“And when word gets out that you’ve got a gifted mechanic, you’ll be booked a month of Sundays ahead.”

“What I’ll be is bankrupt. Because the minute word gets out that Tommy Cleary is working here, everyone will start taking their repairs to my competition in Greenville.”

“That would depend,” Jack drawled, moving directly in front of Paul again, “on what sort of spin you put on it. If you make a huge deal over the fact that you stole Cleary right out from under your competition’s nose, your customers will think you’re a genius and that Tommy’s the only one they want working on their engines.”

Paul eyed Jack speculatively. “You’ve already spoken to my competition? Before talking to me?”

Jack shook his head. “I’m giving you first shot at Tommy. If you don’t snatch him up, I’m headed to Greenville from here.” He lowered his voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “I tell you what: I’ll give you until noon today to decide. Sell that guy over there a sled, then give the tech school a call and ask them what kind of mechanic Tommy is. But come noon, I’m offering him to your competition.”

Paul caught Jack’s sleeve when he turned to leave. “Joan Cleary used to be one hell of a fine-looking woman before Eric Cleary wore her down, may the bastard’s soul rot in hell. She really could use Tommy’s paycheck, couldn’t she?”

“About as much as you could use a good mechanic. And Tommy could use some direction and purpose in life, and his little brothers could use a better role model. It’s a win-win opportunity for everyone, Paul.”

Paul thought furiously for several seconds, then suddenly puffed up with importance. “Have him stop in after school today, and I’ll see if we can’t work out a deal about hours and wages until he graduates.”

“How about tomorrow afternoon instead?”

“Why not today?”

“I couldn’t very well offer Tommy anything without speaking with you first, could I?” he said, turning and walking away.

“Dammit, Stone. Did you just set me up?” Paul called out as Jack reached the door.

He turned to the suspicious store owner. “No, Dempsey, I believe I just shored up your bottom line.” He looked over at the young couple now in a heated discussion over the snowmobile the guy obviously thought he needed. “If I might make a suggestion?” Jack said, drawing their attention. He nodded toward the workhorse Paul had talked him out of three weeks ago. “It might not look as sporty as this one, but it would make a great family sled. Take my word for it, there’s nothing like riding the trails together.”

That said, Jack walked out to his cruiser, whistling a happy tune. He climbed in, then checked his watch. He should leave for Greenville by two-thirty to be at the tech school when it let out at three. His mood heightened even more when he thought of Tom Cleary riding home in the police chief’s beautifully tricked-out cruiser.

Jack had no idea what the Cleary boy looked like, other than Ethel’s description of a gangly teenager with over-long blond hair and likely tattered clothes. Which meant he could be any one of the thirty or so young males pouring out of the tech school, as tattered appeared to be the newest thing. Since he’d arrived too late to go inside and have Tommy paged, Jack stopped his cruiser directly in front of the main entrance, hoping one of the boys would give himself away when he saw his latest prank in broad daylight.

One boy did suddenly stop dead in his tracks and gape, though most everyone—male and female—stopped and stared. But this particular boy seemed more disconcerted than awestruck. He looked around nervously, then suddenly bolted.

Jack muttered a curse. Of course he’d run. Didn’t they always? He climbed out of his cruiser and chased after him. “Tommy, wait!” he called to the kid. “I need your help.”

Apparently Tommy wasn’t the helpful sort, since he continued sprinting around the corner of the building, then zigzagged through a parking lot filled with every imaginable make and year of vehicle. The boy scaled the thirty-foot-high snowbank at the end of the lot in three easy strides, then disappeared down the other side. Jack followed at a flat-out run, acutely aware of the shouts of encouragement cheering Tommy on, as well as the small assembly of students joining the chase.

Jack also scaled the snowbank, crested the top, and saw his quarry disappear into the woods. “Big mistake, Tommy boy. You’re on my turf now.” He turned to look at the parade of students preparing to scramble up the snowbank behind him. “Sorry, people, this is as far as you go,” he told them.

He was answered by a barrage of questions, several muttered curses, and sounds of general disappointment.

“What’d Tommy do?”

“Are you going to arrest him?”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t do anything!”

“He’s getting away, cop. What’s the matter, you out of shape from eating too many doughnuts?”

“Do I look out of shape?” Jack asked with a laugh. “Come on people, go home. Tommy’s not in trouble, I just want to ask a favor of him. So please be upstanding citizens and go home and do your homework.”

He then turned and scrambled down the back side of the snowbank, stepped into the woods where Tommy had, and studied his tracks a few seconds before heading off at a forty-five degree angle to the left.

Within ten minutes Jack was standing behind a tree watching a huffing and puffing Tommy heading straight toward him. The boy kept looking over his shoulder and had started stumbling a bit in his panic, and when he looked forward Jack could see the hunted look in his eyes.