“Johnny didn’t imply it would be an official visit,” I answered. “Besides, I’m technically on vacation.”
“Your uncle,” Dwayne commented knowingly. “So long as it makes it in the official report, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“It will,” I promised. “I can put an APB out on the vehicle.” I lifted my eyebrow questioningly. “I don’t guess you have a license plate?”
He gave me a dry stare. “I have dozens.”
“What happened to honor among thieves?” Cadence piped up, her head cocked to the side and I squeezed her shoulders, not liking Dwayne’s interested stare.
“I’ll show you,” he replied, jerking his head for us to follow him out the back. Cadence moved forward and I sighed as I trailed after them. He didn’t take us to any of the large outbuildings, but instead a small, immaculate garage. He reached down, pulling the door up on rollers, the sound loud enough to make me wince. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, and Cadence let out a low whistle.
“Is that –” she paused, taking a breath before continuing, “Is that a 1968 1/2 R-Code 428ci Cobra Jet Mustang?”
“You know your cars,” Dwayne remarked, not hiding his surprise. “It is.”
“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one,” Cadence murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she gazed in awe at the car. “My mother talked about this car, said it was legendary.”
“There were only –” Dwayne started to explain but was interrupted.
“1044 made,” she finished for him and his mouth snapped shut as he eyed her with growing respect. “Is that the original factory paint?” She questioned, circling the car.
“Was,” Dwayne stated cryptically when Cadence let out a pained yelp. I scanned the room to see what might have hurt her, but there was nothing there. This was the most pristine garage I’d ever seen.
“What is it?” I asked, but Cadence couldn’t seem to speak as she gestured to the car and I circled around, catching sight of the lime green paint that had been sprayed across the side of the car. “That’s a bad thing,” I assumed and she stared at me in disbelief.
“It is original,” she gasped in horror. “Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“Rob.” I glanced at Dwayne when he spoke, and knew if Rob had been in the room he’d already be dead. “Bastard did it to spite me.”
Cadence reached toward the car, but didn’t actually make contact, her fingers curling back into her palm as she stared at the lime green scribblings mournfully. “Can it be fixed?”
“It can,” Dwayne answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s going to take hours of restoration though.” He shook his head. “I’m just glad,” he paused, seeming to catch himself. He gestured to the car. “She came straight off the factory floor. One owner, passed down in the family.”
“It is amazing,” Cadence agreed, her worshipful and I stared in bemusement at this new side of her. “Is it true she can do a 13-second ¼ miles at 105 mph?”
“Why don’t you find out?” Dwayne asked and her eyes almost popped out of her head.
“Mmmm-me, me?” She stuttered, pointing to herself and Dwayne chuckled.
“Yeah, you.”
“You, I, drive her?” She stammered, nodding frantically as she trotted to the driver’s side.
“You trying to steal my girl?” I grumbled to Dwayne and he let out a short laugh.
“Try? I already did,” he answered, fishing a key ring out of his pocket and tossing them to Cadence. “Track is out the garage, and to the right.”
Cadence cradled the car keys more gently than a newborn baby as she eased open the driver side door and slid inside. I watched her inhale deeply, her eyes closing in apparent bliss. She cranked the car and the massive engine rumbled to life. She gave me a gleeful grin, her hands patting every surface before she put it into gear.
“I’m guessing you can’t just buy one of these?” I commented and Dwayne snorted. “You might never get the car back,” I mentioned to him and his lip curled up.
“If it’s her? I might not even mind,” he answered, shaking his head as he walked out of the garage following Cadence as she gingerly steered the powerful muscle car in the direction of the track.
“Dale around?” I questioned, glancing around casually, but Dwayne squinted at me suspiciously.
“Why?”
“You seen Riley?”
“Not today,” Dwayne said slowly.
“Got a shiner,” I replied shortly and Dwayne cursed.
“Dale’s fucking good at what he does but he’s a shit dad when he’s drinking,” he muttered.
“I’d like a word with him,” I told him and Dwayne pressed his lips together. “Riley’s a good kid,” I reminded Dwayne, my temper simmering.
“I know that,” he snapped back. “I don’t let him get involved in anything illegal.”
“For now.”
“You talking to Dale isn’t going to help matters,” Dwayne retorted and I shook my head.