“None.” Mitch hit the steering wheel.
Mary smiled. Her brother Eric hit his steering wheel a lot, too. It was a good habit; steering wheels never cried, never bruised.
Never wished they could hit back.
The used car lot hadn’t improved during the hours she’d been gone. The wind and the tumbleweed were long gone. The drab buildings remained. Two police cars looked right at home in the parking lot.
“So all this is yours?” Mitch said as they pulled into the parking lot.
“Lock, stock and barrel.”
He turned the car off but made no move to exit. He looked at her. “Have much experience with selling used cars? Did you help Eddie with the books or anything?”
“No experience and no intention of selling used cars. I met with the lawyer yesterday. The car lot’s actually been mine for quite a while, something Eddie and my family neglected to tell me. Surprise, surprise, the gas station’s mine, too. Also, my grandfather included an interesting stipulation in his will. If I keep the place a car lot, I’m on my own with it. If I change it into something else, I get additional money to turn it into any kind of business I want.”
“That’s an odd stipulation. I don’t remember Eric saying anything about any stipulation for him when he inherited the cabin.”
“I think Grandfather figured if he added a stipulation, Eric would just say no thanks and turn his back on it. Plus, it’s a great cabin. No need to make changes. It’s perfect the way it is.”
Well, that wasn’t true, but it had been perfect at one time. And Mary wondered if Eric hadn’t gotten rid of the antiques, who had.
“Did anyone else get stipulations?”
Mary thought back. “I read the will. My older brothers were left money, not things. Their families are taken care of for life. And Kenny—”
“The baby,” Mitch remembered.
“Kenny inherited land, a ghost town actually. I don’t remember a stipulation for him, either. I remember my father saying Grandfather always thought Kenny was useless and so left him something useless.”
“There’s no better investment than land,” Mitch said.
“Yeah, but according to the lawyer, this land’s pretty worthless. Just lots of old, broken-down buildings in the middle of nowhere. No roads near it and no water.”
“You know, Eric inherited a broken-down cabin, which he fixed up. You’ve inherited two buildings that are in a prime location. You could really make a go of something here.”
“I don’t have to make any decisions today.” Mary chewed a fingernail. Mitch Williams probably didn’t realize just how scared she was about meeting the caseworker, about the chance that Justin could be taken away from her while she served a jail term. How could she think of a new business when Justin was the only future she cared about? Mary swallowed hard and tried not to let her fears show. Mitch climbed out of the car, came around and opened her door.
Side by side, they entered the main building, to find Ruth sitting at the dusty desk adding words to her notebook and talking on her cell. The door to Eddie’s office was open and another cop stood inside. He turned when Mitch entered the main room.
The officer grinned boyishly and said, “Hey, long time no see.”
Mitch grinned back, shook the officer’s hand and turned to Mary. “This is Sam Packard, Ruth’s partner. If I remember correctly, Mary, you hung around with Sam’s wife, Rosa, when you were young.”
Next to reuniting with Eric, Mary was most excited about hooking up with Rosa again. They’d gone to Catholic school together, ridden bikes, sat at the same lunch table and dreamed lots of schoolgirl dreams. Mary lost her best friend after Tony got Rosa’s older brother hooked on the drugs that eventually killed him. Rosa’s family moved and Mary’s world got smaller, emptier.
Sam smiled. “You must be Mary Graham. Rosa’s gonna be more than annoyed that I got to see you first. She’s stuck at the house with our son, Jimmy.”
Sam said “stuck” like part of him would trade places with his wife in a heartbeat.
Mary immediately liked him. “I’m looking forward to seeing her again and your new son. I don’t know why everyone gushes about girls. Boy babies are much better.”
“Not!” Ruth called, still on the phone and without looking up.
Unfortunately, it was not the time for chitchat. Mitch mentioned the possibility that Alma had a child with her and Sam frowned. “Two plainclothes officers and I have been here for about twenty minutes. We haven’t found anything that looks connected to our girl so far.”
They began going over every move Mary had made when she found Alma.
“How long has this place been in your family?” Mitch asked.
“Decades, but it wasn’t always a used car lot. At first it was a garage that evolved into selling cars.”
Yesterday morning, Mary and Justin had sat for an hour waiting for the lawyer to finally see them. He’d graciously had his secretary hand her a folder containing her inheritance information. She and Justin had gone over every word. They knew more about the car lot than Eddie probably ever had.
“Was your grandfather crooked? Did he start the chop shop?” Sam asked.
“Yes, he was crooked. Whether or not he started the chop shop, I’m not sure. He died when I was little.”
Mitch studied the top of the desk. Then, after getting gloves from Sam, he opened and closed the drawers. “Nothing.”
Mary took off for the back room, Eddie’s office. It was crowded with stuff. File cabinets took up one wall. Three full trash cans lay against each other. Green garbage bags, loaded with stuff, mostly paper, leaned against them. Sam put on a pair of gloves and bent down to where Alma had been lying.
“This place is a fire waiting to happen,” Mitch muttered.
“Might be a blessing,” Sam said.
Mary shook her head. “In 1953, when this was built, they made things to last. This place has potential.” She moved toward Sam. “We took the blanket with us that Alma was using. It seemed she needed it for security. I’m not sure if it was already here in the room when she arrived or if she brought it with her. It was brown, black and tan striped. You can find them for under ten dollars at just about any tourist trap.”
“Is the blanket still in your car?” Mitch asked.
“No, she rolled up food and stuff in it before slipping away.”
“Too bad.” Sam kicked at something on the ground. Then he stopped. He took a pair of gloves from his back pocket, and then carefully, almost in slow motion, bent down and extracted something from behind a clump of dirty towels. “Seems our girl likes blankets.”
“What do you mean?”
The tiny blanket Sam held up said it all. It was light blue flannel with Winnie the Pooh on it, exactly the kind of receiving blanket a mother would wrap her newborn son in.
FIVE
Mary leaned her head back against the police station wall and stared at Rico Santos. Between telephone calls, dinner and leaving his desk constantly, he’d already asked her the same questions five or six times. She was determined to cooperate fully with the police. Then maybe they’d believe she had nothing to hide and her worries over her own charges could be put to rest.
Besides, Alma’s life was on the line.
Mary checked her watch.