I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into Lawson Customs on Monday morning.
The shop was too quiet, and the silence seemed to stretch across the empty bays where motorcycles usually waited for repairs. I set my handbag beneath the counter, tied my hair back, and looked toward the shelves.
They were half empty.
"What happened?" I asked as Mia looked up from the computer behind the counter, and the tired expression on her face told me she had already been dealing with whatever this was for hours.
"Morning." She said.
"Mia." I said and she sighed.
"We've got a problem." She said as I walked toward her.
"What kind of problem?" I asked and she turned the monitor toward me.
"Three suppliers cancelled this morning." She said as I stared at the screen.
"Three?" I asked.
"Three
