Consider it? She was kidding, right? Zuri slipped her hand beneath her scarf and felt the bumpy scar tissue on her neck.
Duke’s words trickled through the panic.
So you’ve been through some stuff. Scars mean you’re a survivor.
He made them seem like badges of honor or something.
Zuri looked over at Vivien’s beautiful face. Beyond the surface beauty lay a loyal friend and the whole reason Zuri had even come to Minnesota.
She couldn’t promise her anything yet, but she deserved something. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
But it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t find that Mustang. Because there was no way she could face the world without her makeup.
CHAPTER 6
THURSDAY, 10:09 A.M.
Duke turned a blind eye to the frozen lake surrounded by evergreen trees and birch. And while he was at it, he’d ignore the sweat seeping through his long-sleeved shirt as he marched through the snow to the cabin farthest down the trail. Whoever this older guy was, he better have some answers.
Duke’s phone rang before he approached.
Boone.
Maybe he should let it go to voicemail.
Nah, it would only raise suspicion. And Boone would call again.
He punched the green icon on the screen and cleared his throat. “Hey. Did you and Vivien find the dress?”
“Long story, but I’m working on something. A surprise for Vivien. So, sorry I was MIA most of yesterday. Did everything go okay with the car detail?”
Duke cupped a hand around his neck and paced. “I picked up the ring and the tuxes, got the car detailed, and then it was decorated.” All true statements.
“Great. I really appreciate that. So, for today I was thinking—”
“I actually have a case I need to do some research on. I’m hoping to tie it up by tonight. Then I’ll be back to being at your beck and call.”
“You sure? Do you need help?”
“No, man. It’s all good. Just something that came up last minute I need to deal with.”
Boone hesitated. “All right. So, I’ll talk to you later?”
“Yup. Later.” Duke ended the call and released a long breath.
He hated lying. Okay, so technically nothing he’d said was a lie. But still. He was close to fixing this. He just needed time. He would give himself one more day to track down that Mustang and the ring. If he didn’t find it by tonight, he’d have to break the news to Boone.
Which meant he needed answers now.
He strode forward to the log-sided cabin with sharp icicles hanging from the eaves. An elderly man in a brown cardigan answered his knock. “Good morning.”
“Morning, sir. I’m Detective Lowry. Have you seen a red ’65 Mustang around the campgrounds?”
“A ’65 Mustang you say? She’s a beauty. I used to have a Mustang.” He smiled, something faraway suddenly in his eyes.
“Did you see one yesterday? Here at the resort? Did you drive it?”
The man stared over Duke’s shoulder, still lost in thought.
“Sir? This is very important. Did you see anyone driving a red convertible Mustang yesterday?”
He looked back at Duke. “I took my Phyllis for ice cream like always. We were supposed to share a banana split with two cherries. But she was late.” He frowned. “I don’t know why she was late.” He blinked, then looked away, shaking his head, and shut the door in Duke’s face.
“Wait!” Duke knocked again on the door. “Sir?”
He knocked harder, but the elderly man didn’t answer. Duke was ready to break the door down when a much younger man in a blue coat and worried look marched up with a box of donuts.
“Excuse me. Why are you disturbing my grandfather? He’s supposed to be resting.”
Now he could get somewhere. “I’m Detective Duke Lowry. I have reason to believe your grandfather knows something about a car that was stolen yesterday afternoon from the maintenance shed on the premises. A ’65 Mustang.”
The man sighed and hung his head. “So that’s how he ended up lost on the highway while his car was still here.” He looked back at Duke with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry. For the past sixty-something years, my grandparents spent the week before Christmas here. My grandma died last year, so we canceled, but Grandpa was so upset…well, we brought him. But he’s having some memory issues.”
“Memory issues?”
“Yesterday he went missing—threw us all in a panic until a deputy picked him up on the highway. He didn’t know where he was or how he got there. But it makes sense. He used to have a red Mustang. He must have wandered to the shed and taken it.”
“But where did he leave it?”
“No idea. Like I said, he was very confused when they found him.”
“I need to speak with him now.” Duke wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The man shrugged. “I’m not sure how far you’ll get. Half the time he’s in a different decade in his mind. And if you try correcting him, he gets mad and upset.” He unlocked the cabin door. “But we can try.”
In the cabin, the younger man introduced himself as Tom Karlson and his grandfather as Gerald. The elder was sitting near the window of the cabin, sipping coffee.
His grandson approached him. “Grandpa, I’ve got some donuts to go with your coffee. And this detective here is wondering about a car. Did you take a drive yesterday? Is that how you got to town?”
“Town?”
Duke stepped up. “Yes, sir. The ’65 Mustang you drove yesterday afternoon. Where did you leave the car?”
“A Mustang? I used to have a Mustang. Great car. Phyllis loved going on drives with the top down.” He grinned as he picked through the donuts for one covered in cinnamon and sugar.
“Okay, but, sir, where did you drive it yesterday? What time did you take the Mustang?”
Gerald’s smile fell. “I don’t have the convertible anymore. I drive a sedan.” He looked out the window at the snow drifts and trees, then back at Duke. “It’s not a great time of year for driving a convertible, young man.”
“But you drove a red vintage Mustang yesterday to Deep Haven. Where is it?” Duke asked.
Gerald bit into his donut and chewed. “Phyllis and I always split the banana split.” He smiled at the memory, oblivious to anyone else for the moment.
Banana split? “Mr. Karlson, I need to know where you left that car. You could be charged with auto theft.”
Gerald dropped the donut, startled. “Theft? I’ve never stolen anything in my life!”
Tom rushed over. “Now wait a minute. He hasn’t admitted to anything. Do you even have proof? He’s a confused man.”
“I have an eyewitness who saw him in the Mustang yesterday. I can bring this witness by to confirm, if that’s what you want.”
“Mike, what is he talking about?” Gerald asked, his breathing fast, his eyes wide.
Tom laid a protective hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “We’re done here. I’m calling my lawyer. If you want to come back and charge him, you’d better have a warrant. Otherwise, get out.” He pointed to the door.