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Remembering the numbers tattooed on her grandfather’s arm, Dezi spun the combination on the lock and then worked the numbers from her memory. The lock didn’t open. She tried again.
Again, the locker didn’t open.
“Let me,” Grimm said. He ran the same set of numbers forward and backward.
“You have to put money in them first to get them to open,” a voice said behind them.
Dezi spun around to find the man from the ticket counter standing behind them.
Grimm patted his jeans pockets and shook his head.
Dezi dug into the purse she had slung over her shoulder to find some loose change. She found several quarters and pushed them into the coin slot. Then she twisted the combination to the right.
The door opened without having to use the combination numbers.
Grimm pushed the door wide.
Dezi’s heart raced and then dove to the pit of her belly. The locker was empty.
“Now you can set the combination the way you want to,” the ticket guy said. “If you need more help, I’ll be back at the ticket counter.” He turned and walked away.
Dezi’s gaze followed the ticket guy all the way until he took his seat behind the window.
The man adjusted his glasses and then stared out at her. All around the ticket counter were advertisements for destinations the train could take a passenger. Over the top of the open ticket window, in particular, there was an advertisement with title printed in bold red letters,Over 100 places you’ll want to visit by train. Go! Cross them off your bucket list.
Dezi read it again, her heart beating faster as she finished reading the advertisement.
Over 100 places…
She reached out, grabbed Grimm’s arm and pulled him over to her. “Look at the ticket counter,” she said.
When they’d been standing close to it, they hadn’t looked up to see the advertisement. From further away, the 100 stood out in bright, bold red letters.
“That’s the number 100,” she said.
Grimm nodded in agreement.
Dezi frowned. “Now, what do we do with it?”
Grimm studied the advertisement and shook his head. “We could always ask the ticket guy if he knew your uncle,” he suggested.
Dezi nodded. What would it hurt?
She approached the ticket counter with a tentative smile and read the name tag on his shirt. “Mr. Eugene, would you happen to have known Leon Thomas?”
The man’s head jerked up, and he stared at her across the counter. “The name’s Eugene, not Mr. Eugene.” His eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, I did know Leon Thomas. Why do you ask?”
“Are you aware that he passed away recently?” she asked.
He nodded. “I heard about his accident.”
“Leon was my only living relative.” Dezi lifted her chin. “I’m his niece, Dezi Thomas.”
Eugene studied her through the window. “You’re little Dezi?”
She smiled. “Not so little.”
“Your uncle and I used to play cards together. He talked a lot about his little niece Dezi. He was a good man. Helped me out during hard times when my wife was dying of cancer. I was sorry to hear of his passing.”
