Page 65 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

The inside of Lou’s home had looked much like the yard. There’d been piles stacked in hallways. There’d been shelves overloaded with books and boxes and binders. The kitchen counters had been so cluttered that the only free surfaces had been the sink and stove.

He’d led me through the maze and we’d sat at a small table, surrounded by his possessions. That was when he’d told me about Londyn and how she’d called for the Cadillac. How two days after that call, a fancy truck had shown up to haul it away.

I’d debated walking through the yard, but fear had stopped me, and instead, I’d left Lou to his solitude. I’d given him my card and told him to call me if he ever needed anything. That I’d stop by again.

He’d died before I’d had the chance.

Three months after the Cadillac had disappeared from the yard, so had Lou.

When his lawyer had called to break the news, and to inform me that Lou had bequeathed me all of his belongings, I’d nearly fallen out of my chair.

“I went to his funeral,” I said. “I met his sister.”

“He had a sister?” Clara asked.

“And two nieces. They were nice. Kind. They arranged for him to be buried beside his wife.”

Clara’s eyes bulged. “Lou had a wife?”

“She died young. In childbirth. Lou had been a mechanic back then. The junkyard had been in his family. After his wife and baby . . . he gave up his shop and moved to the shack.”

“Lou.” Clara pressed a hand to her heart.

“We didn’t really know him, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” she whispered, her eyes glassy.

August looked up at Clara with worry on his face. “Mom?”

“I’m okay.” She shook away the sadness and smiled. “How’s your quesadilla?”

“Good.” He shrugged and took another large bite.

Holly leaned in closer, her hand finding my leg under the table. When I looked down, her brown eyes were waiting. They were the color of coffee, rich and warm. But they weren’t as pretty as Clara’s.

And I was a son of a bitch for making the comparison. Fuck.

“Maybe you should ask . . .” Holly nodded at Clara.

I gave her a slight headshake.

Either she missed it or ignored it, but when she turned to Clara and opened her mouth, it wasn’t to eat. “Karson has been putting off going back to Temecula, but he finally is. On Wednesday.”

“Seriously?” Clara’s face whipped to me. “This Wednesday?”

“In two days.” I lifted a shoulder. “Your timing is ironic. My plan was to go there tomorrow and check the place out before my meeting.”

“What meeting?” she asked.

“There’s a developer in Temecula who’s trying to reclaim the area. He’s building a housing development and wants to buy the junkyard. I agreed to meet him on Wednesday.”

“Maybe you could go too,” Holly suggested. “If you wanted to see it again and if you don’t have to hurry home. I think it would be cool to go back to a place like that. See if it’s changed. I work Wednesday through Sunday at the hospital, otherwise I’d go along. I’ve been wanting to see this junkyard since Karson told me about it.”

Which was the reason I’d scheduled the meeting for a Wednesday. Holly was a supportive girlfriend, but this trip wasn’t for her.

“Uh . . . no.” Clara shook her head. “I don’t think . . . no.”

I nudged Holly, and this time, my headshake wasn’t to be ignored.