Chapter 5 - THE TWO-WHEELED GHOST
A metallic clicking sound drifted from the shadows.
It was the sharp, rhythmic ticking of a bicycle freewheel spinning backward.
Click-click-click-click.
The man emerged from the gloom.
His right hand gripped the center frame of a sleek sports bicycle.
He guided it out into the sunlight.
The bike’s frame was matte black, but the details were blindingly bright.
The handlebar tape was wrapped tightly.
It was a vibrant, electric cobalt blue.
The exact same shade as the wound on the silver SUV.
The woman’s tapping foot stopped mid-air.
Her heel hit the asphalt with a dull thud.
Her arms uncrossed slowly, her hands dropping to her sides.
The man walked the bicycle in a wide arc.
The rubber tires hissed against the hot driveway.
He brought the bike parallel to the car.
He positioned it exactly where a person would stand if they were squeezing past the SUV to get into the house.
He looked at the woman.
His expression was entirely unreadable.
He looked down at the handlebars.
The left side of the drop bar was scuffed.
The bright blue tape was torn, a small flap of it hanging loose.
Beneath the tear, a faint smudge of silver paint clung to the synthetic cork material.
The man took a deep breath.
His chest expanded against the navy fabric of his polo.
May you like
He leaned the bicycle inward, toward the car door.
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