Some worshipped her, some praised her simply. A spare few blamed her. Some said she had done too much in an attempt to get some attention.
James knewofRose—not who she really was—but he doubted her heroics had been for glory.
Rose Little had rescued a busload of people from a terrifying death, all while narrowly avoiding the exact same fate. James had watched the video too—who hadn’t in Seven Roads?—and didn’t need to have been there in person to understand just how close she had come to losing her life.
If she had done that for fame and glory only?
Well, then she probably would have greeted him with her name first, her problem second. As it was, she was standing there looking expectantly at him with a small scowl across her face.
James wiped his hands on his coveralls from habit and nodded.
“As it happens, I’m having a light day, so I can take a look now.” He gestured toward the open bay behind him. “Drive it in and I can get started.”
Rose gave one curt nod and did as she was told.
James watched, noting the car drove okay, but there was a sound he couldn’t place as it moved. He was running through the possibilities when Rose appeared at his side. She explained what had happened and did a brief rundown of the car’s history.
It was an older model but had been mostly rebuilt by her over the years.
Which told James that what she had done during her rescue hadn’t just been luck.
She was good with cars.
“My dad was in a wheelchair a lot when I was a kid, so I became the one in charge in our family for everything car-related since middle school,” she said, as if hearing his thoughts. “Whatever is tripping this thing up, it wasn’t because of an error on my part at home. There shouldn’t be any problems on the maintenance side.”
James eyed the tires.
She must not have missed the move. She sighed.
“The tires have recently been replaced,” was all she said.
If she was expecting him to ask about the research annex, she didn’t show it. James respected that. He didn’t bring up anything to do with her job and instead focused on his.
“You can wait in the main building while I take alook if you want,” he offered, grabbing a light. When she didn’t budge, he added, “Or you can hover here.”
He worried it sounded snarky the second he said it, but Rose didn’t take it the wrong way. She nodded and stayed put.
If she had been an attention seeker, he thought that would extend to him. Talking his ear off, regaling him with her own glory. As it was, he forgot she was there at all until a few minutes later into his check.
“Do you have a maintenance record?” he asked. “Or did you do most of it yourself?”
At this, her resting scowl woke up.
“I did the maintenance I could myself but kept records for both my own work and when I had to get a new transmission put in out of town once. The records for both are in the glove compartment. I also have a running log I keep at home if that doesn’t work for you.”
James raised his hands in defense.
“I’m sure what you have is fine.” He had been at the hood but now moved around to the passenger’s-side door. He opened it and leaned over for the glove box.
This was a move he had done countless times in his career.
Lean over, reach for the glove compartment handle, open and take out what he needed. All while never even touching the seat.
But, for whatever reason, James did something slightly different this time.
He sat down on the seat before reaching out.
That was where he messed up.
