Read Online Skating Over the Line by Joelle Charbonneau - Free Book Online

I peered into the building. Garth Brooks bellowed from the radio, and Zach was nowhere in sight.
    â€œHello?” I yelled, competing with Garth. No one answered. Score one for Garth.
    Stepping into the garage, I tiptoed around a puddle of some oily substance and crossed toward the car. “Hello,” I called again.
    Nothing.
    I leaned against the truck and decided to wait. Now Garth Brooks was singing all low and soft and sultry. I tapped my toe to his growly music and swayed my hips against the car, enjoying the solitude.
    Something slithered against my ankle. “Hey,” I yelled. My eyes snapped downward while I said a little prayer to God that it wasn’t a snake.
    Five fingers were clamped around my left ankle. Unless reptiles had developed opposable thumbs, I was safe from fang bites.
    Giving my ankle a yank, I took a step backward and stooped down to peer under the car. There was Zach, lying on his back under the truck. At least I thought it was Zach under all that grease. A second later, he rolled out from under the car and blinked up at me.
    I waved. “Hi. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
    The obvious answer was yes, but Zach didn’t blow me off. He just shrugged and climbed to his feet.
    His six-foot-something frame was draped in clothes worthy of a Wes Craven horror movie. Streaks of gooey black, rusty orange, and colors I’d never seen in the Crayola box decorated what probably had once been a blue coverall. Picasso would have declared Zach a work of art. I declared him a mess.
    Zach ran an oily hand through his shaggy brown hair and smiled. “I’m glad you swung by. I need a break.” He walked past me to a scarred workbench. With a flip of Zach’s grease-corroded fingers, Garth stopped singing. Grabbing a sparkling-clean bottle of water, he asked, “What brings you out here? Does your car need some work?”
    â€œNope. Car runs great.” I leaned back against the truck. Normally, I would have looked for a place to sit, but the truck was the cleanest thing in the garage. For the sake of my laundry, I’d stand. “I’m looking into the car-theft thing and thought I should ask you a few questions.”
    â€œYou think I stole Jimmy’s rusted VW?” A smile twitched under the grime.
    I arched an eyebrow. “I trust you have better taste in automobiles.”
    Zach saluted me with the water bottle, chugged half of the liquid, and screwed the cap back on. The bottle took on the same soot color as the rest of the joint. “So, what kind of questions do you need me to answer?”
    â€œYou were in the diner last night. Do you remember who else was there?” His confused expression made me smile. “I know it sounds weird, but I have a theory. Humor me.”
    He looked up at the ceiling with his mouth open. This was Zach’s “I’m concentrating” look. I’d watched him use it twice a month at Lionel’s poker game. Every so often, I decided to take target practice. So far, I’d managed to land three pieces of popcorn and two pretzels in his mouth. Right now I was kind of sad I’d left the popcorn at home. Zach had never given me a better target.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “I was reading a magazine while I ate dinner, but I remember the football team being there. Agnes was there with Doc’s secretary. Your dad came in next, and not too long behind him was Doreen and her band of bingo buddies. Once all the guys from the firehouse arrived, the place got a little loud. Did you really find Jimmy’s car already in flames, or did you do the town a service and light it yourself?”
    â€œSorry to ruin your theory, but the bonfire was already going when I arrived.”
    Zach looked disappointed, then shrugged. “That car wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway. The transmission was shot. Jimmy should have bought a new one years ago.”
    I steered the conversation back to the