Page 60 of Silent Deception
Ryan followed close behind, with his hand at her elbow. “You need something for your truck?”
“Not exactly.” She debated how much to say. “I’m...looking for something that belonged to my dad.”
They followed as Buddy ambled to the end of the long metal shed, then over a grassy patch to the door of another, much smaller building. “Careful, ma’am—I got a rattler out here. A five-footer, easy.”
She shuddered, scanning the ground before carefully making her way to his side. “They’ve got plenty of places to hide around here.”
“And since I almost never come out here, there’s probably nests of ’em everywhere.” Buddy jangled through a ring of keys suspended from his belt, trying several in the padlock, until one finally worked. The door swung open with a rusty squeal, and he reached inside to flip on a light switch. “Couple years ago, I had an employee help me do some organizing. Big mistake, ’cause I never did figure out his system and then he moved on. No idea what’s in here—or in some of the other sheds.”
She tried to hide her growing disappointment. “So you haven’t actually been back here to check?”
Buddy chuckled. “Scared a lot of rats and saw a coupla black widows, so I didn’t linger. But with you calling about them parts every day, I finally figured the varmints would be easier to deal with. I think I have what you want.”
From the way he stepped cautiously across the floor, he wasn’t kidding about the varmints. Suppressing a shudder, she followed him, thankful for Ryan’s reassuring presence at her side.
Buddy grabbed a long piece of metal pipe off the floor and tentatively poked at some crumbling cardboard boxes, then kicked them aside.
Stacked against the wall was a collection of car and truck fenders. At least half a dozen of them, in assorted models and colors.
“I didn’t go through all of them, but I did see a pair of old Chevy front fenders out here last night. Thing is, I think Ralph must’ve smudged my chalk inventory numbers when he was moving things around. And the fenders don’t match.”
Kristin took a sharp breath. “What color?”
“Sorta tan and a black.”
Her excitement kicked up another notch. “Both for my dad’s truck?”
“Maybe. They’re a little rusty on the edges, but Ralph must have stripped them off the vehicle anyway. Never know when we might need parts for vintage vehicles.” Buddy shifted several fenders, then hauled out the two he’d mentioned.
“So you aren’t hunting down parts for your own truck, then,” Ryan said quietly. “This would be something from your dad’s truck.”
“My Aunt Nora isconvincedhe was forced off the road.”
They stepped over to where Buddy had laid out the two fenders. The beige one was pockmarked with gravel dings, but had no suspicious scrapes or marks.
The black one—driver’s side—bore more significant rust along the bottom, with a patch of primer and a deep horizontal crease. But instead of any telltale paint residue, the crease had rusted to a dusty orange.
She couldn’t contain her disappointment. “I...I’d hoped...”
“It still might be possible for a lab to find what you need.” Ryan squeezed her shoulder. “Though that scrape could’ve come at any time. Even years before your dad’s accident.”
Kristin pulled out her wallet. “How much for the black one?”
Buddy scratched his head and looked at her. “I don’t think this is gonna help none. You don’t know for sure if this is even the right one.”
“I can compare it to the sheriff’s photos,” she said firmly. She started counting out bills from the meager collection in her wallet, then pulled out her Visa. “What’s something like this worth?”
He held up his hands, palms out. “Take it. Keep it long as you need it, if you think it will be any help. Like I said before, Nate was a good friend. It’s the least I can do.”
