“That’s because it’s sitting in my workshop in the same condition as the day I bought it.” He grimaced. “Planned to restore it, but not a month after I bought it, a motorcycle crash left me paralyzed. Try fixing up a car without the use of your legs. Doesn’t work so well.”
“I’m so sorry,” Malone said.
“You got nothing to be sorry for,” he muttered.
“How did you hear about the car?” Ian asked, thinking it was best for them to move on.
“It was towed to the shop where I was a mechanic.” He looked at Malone again, his bushy eyebrows knitted together. “So it was your parents who died in the crash?”
She nodded.
He took a deep breath. “I’m real sorry about that.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you look the vehicle over before you bought it?” Ian asked.
“I saw enough to know that if I couldn’t get it roadworthy I could recoup my money in parts.” His gaze turned skeptical. “Sounds like you’re looking for something in particular.”
“We’ve recently learned that the car accident might not have been an accident,” Malone said. “We hoped you still had the car so we could have a look and determine if it was tampered with.”
Those heavy silver brows dipped then rose. “You mean like someone sabotaged it to cause an accident?”
“It’s possible,” Malone said, her focus riveted to the old man.
Peck shook his head. “Man, that’s cold.”
“Can you tell by looking at a car if it’s been tampered with?” Ian asked.
Peck shook his head. “Not me, but I can walk you through checking a few things.”
“Could we do it now?” Malone asked, sounding hopeful. “I would really like to know what happened to them.”
“Follow me.” Peck motored to the door. “And bring your monkeys along too. Might need their help.”
He whirred outside and down the ramp, then mowed down leaves and tall grass heading toward the garage. Ian motioned for Aiden, Brendan, and Clay to follow, and they all tromped through the brittle leaves and thick scrub to arrive at the building.
“One of you bruisers lift the door,” Peck said. “Hasn’t been opened in some time. Could be a challenge.”
Brendan grabbed the handle and tugged. Took a few attempts and two hands, but he finally got the corroded door to grind up and along the tracks, the squeal putting Ian on edge. The candy-apple red Mustang sat just inside, facing forward. The front end was smashed into the passenger compartment, the passenger side wheel bent at an odd angle.
Malone gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth.
“I shoulda warned you it was bad to look at,” Peck said. “These old cars aren’t designed for impact like today’s models are.”
“I knew it was totaled, but I didn’t imagine it was this bad.” She shook her head. “Looks like they had to pry the doors open.”
Peck gave a solemn nod. “Honestly, looking at it now, I don’t know why I was thinking I could restore it. Young and naïve, I guess.”
“So how do we see if the car was tampered with?” Ian asked.
“There are two simple but very effective ways to mess with a car and cause an accident,” Peck said. “First is to cut the brake line. Second, to loosen the tie rods.” Peck wheeled closer to the car. “I would think the police would’ve checked the brakes, but probably not the tie rod.”
“Can you explain what that is?” Malone asked, moving next to him.
“Metal bars that connect the tires to the body of the vehicle. We’ll need to jack up the frame to get a good look.” He pointed at the workbench. “There’re a few jacks over there. Grab ’em, and I’ll tell you where to put ’em.”
Ian was closest to the bench, so he picked up two rusty looking bottle jacks and started to hand one to Peck.
