Page 109 of Lost Trust

Marina stares after him.

I look down at the keys. Then back at her and shake my head.

“He’s trusting,” she mutters.

I unlock the Ford and climb inside.

The driver’s seat is worn to the springs, the fabric deteriorating from years of use. The steering wheel’s black leather is faded in spots, and the dashboard has a few cracks running through it. The cab smells like stale beer, old cigarette smoke, and something I can’t quite identify.

Marina leans through the open passenger door. “Oh God.”

I look at her. “You’re gonna want to breathe through your mouth,” I warn.

I turn the key. The engine grinds a couple of times, sputters, then finally rumbles to life. I let it idle for a minute, listening.

It doesn’t sound terrible. That’s something.

I shut it off, climb out, and pop the hood. The engine bay is dusty and grimy, but again, I’ve seen worse. I check the oil. Look over the belts and hoses. Check the battery cable for corrosion. Look for leaks and wiggle a couple of connections.

Nothing immediately jumps out at me.

I lower the hood and walk around the truck.

I check the body panels. Look underneath as best I can. Examine the wheel wells and the frame. Then I kick each tire.

Marina follows, watching me. “Well?”

“Sounds okay.” I glance at her. “And a well-maintained F-150 can usually push to around three hundred thousand miles.”

Her face brightens. “So … it’s a possibility?”

I look over the bed.

The faded gray paint is scarred and weathered. There’s rust around the edges, leaves and debris gathered in the corners, and enough junk scattered in the bed to make me wonder how long it’s been since anybody actually used it for hauling anything.

Then I look back at her. “A well-maintained F-150,” I repeat.

Her face falls. “So, that’s a no.”

“I didn’t say no.”

She points at me. “You made a face.”

I chuckle. “At two grand, it’s not out of the running. But I’d like to ask around and see if I can find some others for you to look at before you spend the money on this one.”

She looks back at the truck.

I can tell she’s disappointed, but she nods.

“Okay. I’m not exactly in love with this one. The pictures made it look a hell of a lot better than it does in person.”

I step closer. “And if we don’t find you something else in better condition for around the same price, I’ll bring you back here.” I nod toward the trailer. “To the site of Deliverance.”

She stares at me for a second. Then sticks her tongue out.

I bark out a laugh. “Maybe I can try to talk him down from two grand.”

She turns toward the truck. “God, I was hoping this was gonna be a lucky find.”