Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(37)

He looked startled but said nothing.

“I think that might be who kidnapped Mr. Reese. We suspect they killed his secretary. Christina Handley? They shot her in the heart. I didn’t tell you the other day because I didn’t want to scare you, but I think you need to know. If your dad was mixed up with the Medranos then you could be in pretty serious danger.”

He blinked, then swallowed, but he wasn’t giving away anything.

“Just give it some thought. Give me a call if you want to talk about it.” She laid her business card on the coffee table between them and decided to change tactics. “Can we take a walk?”

He asked skeptically, “A walk?”

“Sure. I can’t sit for long. Let’s take a walk around the yard. You can tell me how the business works.”

Hec shrugged. “A junkyard’s all it is.”

Josie stood. “I don’t know anything about the business. I’m just curious.”

He carried their glasses into the kitchen and rinsed them out under the faucet. She wondered if he was buying time.

They walked outside without talking. He seemed to be contemplating where to take her, so Josie took the lead and headed down the center aisle, toward the back of the lot where she and Otto had been when Hec had called their names the day before.

As they continued down the center aisle, Hec pointed out several cars and described the process of purchasing them from the insurance company.

“You wouldn’t believe what they total out these days. Used to be flipping houses was the big thing. Now it’s flipping cars.”

“What do you mean, totaled out?”

“That means they won’t fix the car. The insurance company figures it would cost them more to fix the car than it would to send the guy who wrecked it a check to buy a new car.”

“Do they sell them cheap?” she asked.

He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe some of them. Practically nothing wrong but some body work, and we get ’em next to nothing.”

“So what’s your part in this?”

“Dad buys the parts. I got a good eye for body work. I get the wrecks in decent shape, then Dad sells them.”

She noticed his pace slowed considerably as they approached the back of the lot. He led her to the right.

Josie pointed to her left and began walking that way. “So a car like this, an old VW station wagon. You would buy this from an insurance company?”

He gave her a doubtful look. “Maybe. I think some guy brought that in and sold it outright.” She noticed fresh dirt on the ground behind the car and looked around to see if she saw signs of excavation elsewhere.

“What’s up with the dirt?” she asked.

“The dirt?”

“Sure. I see the backhoe parked over there.” She pointed to the yellow machine parked in the far corner of the lot.

He stammered, and then was silent for a second. “We move cars around the lot. Take them over to the car crusher. We sell the cars for scrap metal. Make decent money on scrap.”

Josie gestured down beyond the edge of the row to the bank that sloped into the Rio Grande. Trees bordered the river on either side, but a twenty-to thirty-foot opening had been cut through both sides of the bank, leading directly into the water. “Looks like some fresh tracks headed toward the river.”

“One of the cops who came looking for my dad tried to say we were shipping cars across the river illegally.”

“How would you get the cars across the water?” she asked. The river was at least twenty feet wide at this point, and it wasn’t the rainy season.

“I know! That’s what I said. He tried to say we had a temporary bridge we crossed. Even if we had a bridge, we couldn’t get that truck and trailer across it. It was stupid.”

Facing the river, Josie looked to the west side of the yard where Hec had pointed. A large pickup truck and trailer with a hitch sat along the edge of the fence.

“I know it’s my dad, but I still don’t think their case is very strong,” he said.

As they walked around the rest of the lot, Hec kept up a running commentary. When they finally made their way back around to where Josie had parked in front of the office, she bluntly laid it all out.

“Here’s the deal. I’m worried that there’s more to your dad’s indictment than a couple of stolen cars getting shipped across the border. I’m worried that your problems may be linked to a kidnapping and a murder. I want you to think all this over. I know the police department is the last place you want to go for help, but I think you need us. You can’t fix this by yourself.”

*

Hec watched the cop pull out of the yard and turned back to the trailer. Before entering he scanned the yard, searching for movement. Once inside, he walked to the back of the trailer and touched the door that led to his dad’s bedroom, then turned and took the familiar twelve steps back to the front. He counted as he took each step, tapping the window at the front of the trailer before turning back again, twelve more steps. He had worn a path into the carpet but he no longer cared. He balled his fists in fury every time he thought of his dad. Hec imagined him entering the trailer, taking one look at Hec, and asking what the hell was wrong with him, pacing like a caged animal. Hec stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen. The room tilted like he’d been spinning around and around and had suddenly stopped.