Page 57 of Silent Deception
He cocked his head. “Lookin’ for ole trucks again, or are you just takin’ a tour?”
“Pieces this time, actually.” She surveyed the jumble of automotive parts stacked in piles or leaning against a long, corrugated metal shed. “If you have an old vehicle...not worth much...you part it out, right?”
“Probably.”
“Bumpers or front fenders?”
“Depends, I guess...” His voice trailed off as he surveyed his stock, then glanced up the hill at the junk graveyard, where rows of old trucks, old tractors, and cars were parked. “You know your daddy’s truck is long gone.”
“I’m just hoping you might’ve taken off anything usable before having it crushed.”
“Maybe.” He rubbed his chin. “Those old Chevys were real popular, but it ain’t always easy to find original parts. Sometimes we’ll even save parts with a little damage if we figure a body man can fix ’em.”
“And don’t you have some sort of system, a way to know what you’ve got—by year and model?”
He released a gusty sigh. “Yes, ma’am. But that don’t mean it’s in some fancy computer. You saw my book last time.”
Complete with grease stains and half-legible writing, but she’d also seen meticulous detail. “The car parts out here, do they all have some sort of stock number on them? A way for you to keep your inventory straight?”
He hooted at that. “Mighty good idea, if I had a half-dozen guys working here, round-the-clock.” His expression grew somber. “I do miss your daddy, and I’m real sorry for your loss. Look, I’ll search around a little. If I parted out that truck, I might have chalked the invoice numbers underneath the bigger pieces. That’s the best I can do. Got a phone number?”
Kristin dug into her purse and handed him a business card from the clinic. “I’d be happy to help look. I’ve seen photos and I know it was gray with white or cream fenders and a shiny silver front bumper.”
“Right.” He tipped his head toward the sea of metal behind him. “That will help a lot—but I don’t want no one else back here. My insurance don’t cover that.”
“But you will check?”
He pocketed her card in the front center pocket of his overalls. “I’ll check, but don’t be holding your breath. This is a real shot in the dark.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated, then stood on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “Thank yousomuch.”
* * * *
“WE’VE GOTTEN THREEmore calls on hunting leases, Dad.” Ryan opened a file on the desk and flipped through it. “Two guys from Dallas and one from San Antonio. I figure there’s enough prime hunting land here for you to set up another seven or eight leases.”
“Tried that ten years ago. Not worth the bother,” Clint said dismissively. “Fools left gates open. Left their trash. Lost two good steers when one idiot didn’t take aim.”
“It’s worth the trouble now. Hunting is huge in Texas, as you well know. Something like ninety-seven percent of the land is privately owned, so you’ve got to get in there, Dad. Wealthy hunters are willing to pay top dollar to use your land.”
Clint waved impatiently. “Trevor’s too busy. You’ll soon be gone. Who do you think is going to manage all of this?”
“Garrett and Trevor. The person you hire to replace me.” Ryan slid a copy of a new ad layout across the table. “We can designate certain areas for three-day hunting party packages at five-hundred per gun, and offer the rental of some cabins that are empty anyway. Annual leases in other areas of the ranch ought to go for sky-high rates.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Since Trevor got back from Houston, he’s spent the last four days doing flyovers with the chopper, checking for game. This ranch hasn’t been hunted much in years, and he’s counted hundreds of white-tail and uncountable flocks of turkeys, and that’s just what he can see from the air. Ride any direction from the barns and you’ll find flocks of quail and dove. Hunters will bag their limits and beg to come back.”
Clint pursed his lips as he scanned the advertisement Ryan had created on the computer. “You can get this show on the road before you leave?”
“We’ll likely be turning people away. Leland is working on several standard contracts specifying dates, liability, and so on. Then it’ll just be a matter of fielding calls and answering questions.”
“Leland tells me he talked to you last weekend, by the way.” Clint drummed his fingers on the desk.
“He came to the office looking for you. He thinks Nate was ‘one crafty dude’ to figure out such a slick embezzlement scheme...and he figures that you’ll never track down the money.”
“I was a fool. An ignorant, trusting fool.”
“Well, I don’t think the problem started with Nate. Hemayhave taken the opportunity to continue siphoning, but I’ve found problems that predate his employment.”
