To Die for... Truth

THREE

THREE

IT DIDN’T OCCUR TO Tess to look for a payphone; her mother’s conditioning was still in full force. There probably weren’t any nearby anyway. She’d been at the police precinct asking questions when the sight of one on the wall put the idea in her head.

The desk clerk initially tried to redirect her to their website and requested she send an email. No one understood another person not having an email address or a smartphone. Faced with her dogged persistence, the guy relented and gave her the answer that she wanted.

Pausing at the open chain-link gates, Tess read the sign. “Buckhorn Parts and Towing,” she said. “Salvage and scrap.”

High wooden and chain-link fences enclosed the perimeter. The twine of razor-wire on top suggested the site was in tune with its security needs… or paranoid. The office was a single level unit, quite small considering the substantial size of the junkyard. The curve of a silver Airstream trailer protruded from behind the structure. Maybe someone lived on the land, or stuck around to protect it after hours. That was a relief. With the time already passed five, Tess had worried the business might be closed.

The door handle of the concrete building was stiff, but she pushed it down and yanked open the heavy door. Inside it became clear that the person responsible for running Buckhorn Parts and Towing didn’t care much about cleanliness. The thin industrial carpet was caked with trodden in muck. So much so that she couldn’t hazard a guess as to its original color.

All around, on every wall, were posters of cars, price lists and specs. Interspersed were a few posters advertising different car related products. Behind the cluttered counter was a calendar open to an unashamed centerfold, wearing only the tiniest thong. Like Barbie, but bustier and with glistening come-to-bed eyes. The model had so much weight on top that Tess doubted she’d be able to stand up.

A small section of the L-shaped counter was cleared, just enough to keep a button on show. The crusty laminated note above said, “Ring for attention.” So that was exactly what she did.

With the distraction of the blonde and the posters, it was difficult to make out the narrow door on the opposite wall. Few people would notice it. Staying alert in a new environment was second nature for Tess.

The door opened, releasing a cloud of white smoke. Waving her hand in front of her face, she tried to waft the obvious smell away while a tall, dark-haired guy moseyed in. Coupling the scent to his heavy eyes, it didn’t take long to put the pieces together.

Shock powered her voice. “Are you high?”

He didn’t focus. His grubby coveralls were open to his hips showing that his tee-shirt was in pretty much the same state as the carpet.

Smacking his lips, he yawned and laid a hand on the center of his torso. “Hmm?”

Her grief hung as a weighted anger in her gut. Dragging it around took effort, but the heat of it fueled her resolve.

Setting both hands on the counter, Tess wasn’t in the mood to play. “Are you the person in charge?”

“Right now, I think, yeah,” he said, flexing his shoulders to stretch his back. “Work’s a b***h, right? There’s gotta be a better way than slogging all day.” From where she was standing, he didn’t let work prevent him from taking it easy. “Lay it on me.”

“Excuse me?”

He propped himself against the closed door. “Can’t give you what you want until you ask for it,” he said, one corner of his mouth quirking in a brief lazy smile.

When he folded his thick arms over his broad chest, Tess noticed the patch on his left pec bearing a name. “Danny? Is that your name?”

He tipped his shoulder her way, as if to present the name on his coveralls. “ ‘Less I put on someone else’s duds yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

On a shrug, he licked his lips again. “Just messin’. Wanna get something to eat?”

“What? No!”

“I’m hungry,” he muttered, looking left and right like he might find something delicious lying around.

Tess rubbed her temple. “What is wrong with you?”

“Geez, lady, loosen up,” he said like she was killing his buzz. “Who f*****g died?”

Well, if that wasn’t just the absolute wrong thing to say.

Slamming a hand on the counter, Tess lunged toward him. “Funny you should ask, my mom did. I am trying to find the vehicle she died in. Cops said it was here.”

He took the news in his stride, with no sign of contrition or humility. “Makes you Little Red,” he said, boosting his shoulder off the wall.

“What?”

“Corvette.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing he was paying attention. “Yeah. It’s a Corvette.”

Slapping a heavy hand onto the book that lay by the register, he dragged it along the counter toward himself. “Obviously not a music fan.”

“I know Little Red Corvette, thank you very much.”

Opening the book, he licked his dirty fingers to leaf through the smudged pages. Mechanics dealt with a lot of grime, grease, and oil. Filth, she supposed, was part of the job.

“Offend you?” he asked, glancing up.

“If you’re calling me easy, yes.”

Though, in truth, all of her s****l encounters were of the brief and easy variety. Necessity kept them that way. Tess and her mom adopted a “don’t-ask, don’t-tell” policy on that score.

“Free spirited,” he said, trying to show her a smile. The lines on his brow suggested his smoking was starting to catch up with him. “If you were easy, we’d be in my trailer already.”

“That’s you who lives back there?”

He flicked over another page. “Surprised?”

“Yeah,” she said without shame. “I figured whoever stayed back there had to be responsible for security… You don’t seem like the type.”

“To handle myself?”

“Uh, no,” Tess said because she couldn’t deny the strength of his physique. “The type to care.”

He snickered. “Yeah, maybe, Little Red…” Slapping a hand onto the page, he ran a fingertip along a line of text. “We’ve got it in the yard, not much left.”

Her gusto shrank. “I knew that.”

The guy at the morgue had resisted providing a list of injuries. At that point, all they had were the cursory results, but those were enough to make the truth obvious. Her mom hadn’t stood a chance.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Lost in her own thoughts, Tess hadn’t noticed him coming around the counter. His eyes were still heavy and his hair a mess, but his solid form was more commanding than she’d given him credit for on first sight. The guy was ridiculously tall. In that moment, there was something comforting about his height and obvious capability. So comforting that for a split second, she envied him. Maybe not giving a crap wouldn’t be such a bad way to live.

Since learning about the accident, she’d had no one to talk to, no one to comfort her. She hadn’t even cried. Not really. Every time sadness crept in, she pushed it aside to focus on the practical. Things needed to be done. Places visited. Arrangements made.

When she caught a glimmer of discernment in Danny, she cleared her throat and took a step back. The last thing she needed to do was gain the curiosity of the junkyard lackey, even if there was zero chance of ever seeing him again.

“Lead the way,” she said.

He might not care that her mother was dead, but he’d done her a favor by skipping over the expected ID requirement. The car was registered to her. To one of her identities. The ID she’d brought was fake, they all were. Tess didn’t even know her real last name.

Danny took her outside and led her past a few rows of crushed cars. “Want to grab a drink later?”

Women probably weren’t common around a junkyard, so Tess didn’t read too much into the invitation. Being an attractive guy, he wouldn’t have to work hard for attention from the opposite s*x.

“Do you ask out every woman who comes by here?” she asked to avoid answering the question.

He puffed out his cheeks. “Sometimes they ask me.”

Watching the ground, she hid her smile. “I’ll bet.”

“Cut loose, Little Red. Let’s go crazy.”

At least the guy was a Prince fan; there was hope for him yet.

“Thanks,” she said, trying not to focus on his heat permeating her way. “But I’m seeing someone tonight.”

The yard opened out beyond the trailer. A bunch of heavy machines and equipment were intermingled with piles of twisted, gnarled metal.

Danny stopped and pointed. At first, Tess didn’t have a clue what he was pointing at. When she saw the streak of red paint and realized that was her car, her mouth opened in shock.

“Need us to tow it somewhere for you?”

“No, I…” Tess was in a daze. “You can keep it. I just… I have to check something.”

“Need help?”

“No,” she said, forcing herself to smile at him. “You’ve been very helpful, Danny. Thank you.”

Bobbing his head in acceptance, he walked backwards. “I’m always around if you change your mind.” She widened her tight smile and nodded. “Food, drink, whatever…” Opening his arms at his sides, the corner of his mouth rose, revealing an endearing dimple. “Stop by the trailer sometime, Little Red. I’ll rev your engine. No charge.”

At a different time, the blatant invitation may have made her laugh. It just wasn’t in her, so Tess raised a hand to wave instead.

Surveying the damaged vehicle, only one word came to mind: horrifying. Once it was the ultimate birthday gift. How her mom saved money and kept the purchase a secret still impressed her. A little red Corvette. Just like she’d always wanted… Its glory days were gone. Long gone.

Without question, there had been impact in more than one place. Did the car spin out and pinball off every obstacle in its careening path? She couldn’t imagine the terror. Fear like that, so complete and consuming… warmth gathered at her lashes.

At times, the turbulence of their life caused friction between them. Even though “normal” didn’t feature in her upbringing, Tess shouldn’t have taken their relationship for granted. Anne’s last thought would’ve been reserved for her daughter. Tess didn’t doubt it. She should’ve been there, should’ve been with her…

Guilt roused her anger again. Squeezing her eyes closed, Tess got it together. Giving in to emotion wouldn’t help either of them. Anne, if she was looking down, needed to witness her daughter’s strength. Anything less than complete fortitude would be an insult to her memory. Forging on, no matter what, was imperative.

Putting aside the devastating mental images of her mother’s last moments, she refused to be a victim to grief.

Grabbing the warped car door to yank it out of her way, she crouched down and examined every crevice. After going through all the usual places in the door, center console and ashtray, she went to the other side and did the same again. Nothing in the glovebox, nothing under the seats.

The frame was so twisted that the trunk release didn’t work. She found a crowbar by one of the machines and wedged it into the space between lid and chassis. The damn thing wouldn’t budge. Her muscles worked overtime until her feet lifted from the ground, but she wouldn’t be defeated. Even if it took all night, Tess would get the trunk open.

“Don’t f*****g test me,” she growled, ignoring the burn in her arms.

It yielded to her command and burst open. Dropping the crowbar, she grabbed the edge of the car so she wouldn’t follow it down.

The triumph was short-lived. No clues lay around in the trunk, above or below the liner. It was empty.

But Tess wasn’t done yet.

Returning to the body of the car, she hauled out the mats. That was when she saw it. In the passenger foot-well, a small, white rectangle.

Sinking onto the hard ground by the car, Tess picked it up and whispered the printed word. “Pandora.”

Touching the letters, she wondered what they meant. On the other side was another name in smaller, bolder print. “Russell Figgs, PI.”

No answers. Nothing made sense. Her mother would never go to a PI, not in a zillion years. Unless… Maybe she didn’t know what the letters meant either. But using an outsider meant making a connection. Telling a story. Anne wouldn’t tell her own daughter; it was unlikely she’d tell a stranger. Would she?

As Tess stared at the black letters, she caught sight of the time on her watch. “s**t,” she said, leaping to her feet, brushing the dirt from her jeans.

Friday meant drinks with Patrick. They had a standing date. It was Tess’s habit to keep everyone at arm’s length, but a sounding board may help her make sense of what she’d found that day.