ALVARO’S MECHANIC WAS under the Camaro when they arrived. All they could see of him was a pair of scrawny legs, covered with oil-stained coveralls, and a pair of strangely clean, oversized sneakers.
“Mike Whent?” Brita flipped a gaze toward the doors and Percy and Warwicke went to stand watch. It would be best for them if nobody else entered the man’s shop while Brita was talking to him.
They’d discussed it exhaustively and decided that it was worth the risk to have Brita there as a cop rather than in disguise as a racer. According to what Alvaro had told Fabiana, Mike Whent had given up the racing game years earlier, when he’d angered the wrong people and had been forced to give up his house in a particularly intense racing situation. He’d walked away from the game cold turkey after tha
