Chapter 4

I whirled at the authortively ridged voice behind me. Almost fell flat

on my face since I was half way in my car. Thank God once in a while I can be graceful seeing how Mr. Blond and Chivalrous was standing in the doorway. Whoa. Did we know he was a cop? ‘Cause I don’t think I knew he was cop. But that was definitely a cop uniform he was rocking.

“Officer. There’s a really good chance my name is still on the pink slip.” I pointed at the glove box. He

cleared his throat and gave me a doubtful look.

“Hate to break it to you Andretti, but, Mac registered her in his name as soon as you stormed out of

town.” Andretti? How did this guy know my high school nickname? My eyes fell on the little gold bar on his chest with his name. Hayward. It couldn’t be.

“VD? No way. You did not grow up to be a cop!” He chuckled while shaking his head.

“You did not just call me VD. I should have arrested you for public intoxication last night.” I cringed at the memory. No wonder he had looked familiar. We had gone to school together. But traveled in very different circles. He was a brainiac and I was well let’s just call me the wild child of the school.

“Sorry. What do you go by these days? Vincent? Vinny? Vin? Cent?” He gave me the cop glare. I wonder if that’s something they teach at the academy.

“Chief Hayward.” He gave me a second to absorb that. “I assume the yellow Wrangler abandoned at the Fuel Up is yours?”

“Yes Chief. Poor old girl died on me last night.” Poor choice of words. Tears pricked my eyes. “At least

she can be fixed.”

“My condolences. For your car and your grandfather. Mac was a good man. I keep hoping he’ll turn up with some kind of wild story about where he’s been.” I nodded to acknowledge his kind words. “I’ll have it towed to the repair shop and see what Guy can do with it. While he’s working on it, would you like a ride to the station? I can get you an update on the search for Mac and have his lawyer meet us there.

He’ll have a copy of the will.”

I hadn’t even thought about the will. My dad was technically the next of kin. Last I’d heard he was a pit boss out in Vegas. I almost asked if they had been able to reach him to let him know about pops, but, I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the answer. Instead I accepted his offer to help and took off for the cruiser sitting in the drive at a rapid pace. My mother was peering out of the parlor window at us.

The station was only a few minutes away. While we drove he called a tow truck for my Wrangler. He ended the call as we pulled into the station. I was thankful I didn’t have to make small talk on the drive over. Too many thoughts were swirling around my brain. Mainly why had Pops kept my Camaro? Not only kept it, but protected it like it was precious. He’d left my room exactly how it was when I left too. Intermixed with those thoughts of course was why was I seeing my mother. Last time I saw her was freshman year. On the advice of my shrink I told her to go away and pretended she wasn’t there. After a while she stopped coming around. I thought I’d gotten over the trauma of her death but, it would appear that being in the manor again had stirred up old ghosts. Literally.

VD lead me through the reception area of the station back into his office where he gestured towards a padded chair in front of his desk which I took to indicate he wanted me to sit there. He returned a moment later with a file that he placed on the desk in front of him. For what felt like an eternity he went over the case. Mostly the same information that I had been told the night before. Only with a few more meaningless details. I now knew which friends he’d been with and whose boat they had been on. I kept my head down and my eyes closed while he went over the case, trying to keep the tears at bay. Once again gripped by loss. I tried to shove the grief down, to be dealt with at some other time.

Whoosh. A pipe overhead burst and drenched VD.