Ian put his phone away when they approached Peck’s three-acre plot predominantly covered with stately pines and maple trees. A winding dirt driveway led them toward a large clearing that held a small house needing a new roof and a fresh coat of paint. Peck had the drive posted with no-trespassing signs, which could spell trouble, though it was just as likely that the guy simply didn’t like company.
Aiden parked in front of the small house, where a long wheelchair ramp ran to the door. A white metal garage with two tall doors stood further back in the lot.
Aiden looked over the seat at them. “We’ll go ahead and make sure things are safe.”
Ian might want Malone to hang back, but he wouldn’t take the chance that the sheer presence of the brothers might scare Peck off.
“That’s a negative,” Ian said. “You all stay with Malone. I’m talking to the guy first.”
Ian didn’t wait for agreement but got out and marched through thick piles of colorful maple leaves that crunched under his feet. At the door, he knocked on the worn wood that had once been painted white.
Seated in a motorized scooter, a man with a long silvery beard and equally long hair opened the door and glared up at Ian. “Didn’t you see the signs? This is private property, and I don’t appreciate trespassers.”
Ian held out his credentials and introduced himself.
“And you need an entire posse to talk to me?” He ran a hand down his beard and looked at Aiden and Brendan, who hadn’t listened to Ian and had come to stand at the end of the ramp. “I ain’t got no beef with the law. I’ll answer your questions.”
“You alone here?” Ian asked.
“Wife’s gone into town for groceries, so yeah.”
“Mind if I look inside and confirm that?”
Peck narrowed his eyes. “Mind, yeah, but if it’ll get you to leave sooner, I’ll let you.”
He rolled back, the cart’s motor humming and the wheels squeaking. Ian entered the large room that served as kitchen, dining, and living area and smelled of cooked cabbage. There were two open doors on the back wall. The furniture was worn mauve and blue fabrics popular in the early nineties. Ian crossed the room to the doors and peeked inside to find a small bathroom and bedroom with a patchwork quilt on the bed.
Peck was telling the truth. He was alone. At least inside the house.
Ian poked his head back outside and looked at the brothers. “He’s alone. Malone can come in.”
“Malone?” Peck asked. “Who’s that?”
“Someone who wants to talk to you.”
“Don’t know a Malone,” Peck grumbled. “Don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.”
Aiden escorted Malone through the door and signaled to Ian that they would be watching the exterior.
Peck ran his gaze over Malone. “Woman, I see.”
Malone gave him a quizzical look.
“Didn’t know if a name like Malone belonged to a man or woman,” Peck said.
“It can be either, and people get confused all the time.” Malone smiled at the older man. “Thank you for talking to us, Mr. Peck.”
He squinted up at her. “Am I supposed to know you?”
She shook her head. “In the mid-nineties you bought a vintage Mustang that belonged to my parents.”
“Yeah, right. I bought a Mustang. So?”
“So records say you still have it,” Ian said.
“I do.” Peck fired Ian a testy look. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Malone’s eyebrow arched. “But you never applied for a regular registration.”
