“Do you still have the keys?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want any trouble. I waited a couple of weeks for the guy to come back. Your grandfather, I mean. But he never did and I never heard anything.”
“I’m not angry,” I said, “and you’re not in trouble. I’m just trying to find his truck on the off chance there was something inside that would tell me where he was going.”
He studied me.
“My uncle told me to have it towed,” he finally said. “I gave the tow truck driver the keys.”
“Do you happen to remember who you called?”
“AJ’s,” he said. “AJ’s Towing.”
*
It was probably too late to pay a visit to AJ’s, so I drove back to the Greenville Marriott. I showered and watched an action movie on pay-per-view before crawling in bed. Reaching for my phone, I texted Natalie.
Hey there. It was a long drive, but I’m glad I came. Learned some things, found out the truck was towed. Looking into that tomorrow. Love you.
Too tired to text a second time if she responded, I put the phone on silent and turned out the lamp. I fell asleep within minutes and my last conscious thought was to wonder again where my grandfather had been going.
In the morning, there was no response from Natalie.
*
After breakfast, I debated whether to call AJ’s or swing by, finally deciding on the latter. The GPS guided me to an industrial area of Easley and though I found the address, I saw no sign indicating the name of the business, nor could I find an entrance to any office. Instead, I saw a large, rectangular prefabricated building with three large roll-up doors squatting in the center of a crumbling asphalt yard, all behind tall chain-link fencing. Though there was a gate that led to the property, it was chained and locked. On the opposite side of the yard, I saw three dusty cars parked in a row. No one seemed to be out and about.
It was regular business hours, but once I thought about it, the locked premises seemed logical. Unless someone had their car or truck impounded on the property, there was probably no reason to keep an office staff, or even someone around to answer the phone. Most likely, the phone number for the business went straight to a cell phone.
I dialed it, listened to it ring, and after hearing the gruff recorded voice of AJ, I left a brief message about the information I needed and asked him to call me.
With little to do other than wait, I toured Easley, finding it prettier than I’d expected. I also found the hospital again and though I didn’t get out of my vehicle, I sent a silent thanks to the good people who worked there. My grandfather had been well cared for in his final days by conscientious doctors and nurses, people who were thoughtful enough to try to track me down.
At noon, I drove back to Greenville and had lunch downtown, at a place that served an exceptional crab melt and appeared to be frequented by women who worked in nearby office buildings. Because I’d checked out of the hotel, I lingered in the restaurant until I finally felt self-conscious, then went for a walk.
Three hours passed without hearing from AJ. Then four and five hours. I debated leaving for New Bern, but felt compelled to speak with AJ face-to-face. Anyway, even if I left then, I wouldn’t get home until nearly midnight.
I went back to the Marriott and checked in again. While charging my phone, I kept the ringer on high. I texted Natalie again.
Thinking of you. Probably heading home tomorrow, back in the afternoon.
I opted for Mexican food for dinner, within walking distance of the hotel. As I walked back, I dialed AJ’s cell number a second time. This time I got an answer. I identified myself, mentioned that I’d called earlier about my grandfather’s truck, and was abruptly cut off. Either AJ had hung up on me or my service had dropped. I dialed again and—as it had earlier that morning—the call went straight to voicemail and I disconnected the call.
In the hotel, I lay in bed thinking about that. It seemed that AJ didn’t want to speak with me, though I wasn’t sure why. Nor was I sure what to do. Since I couldn’t find him at his place of business and didn’t know his last name, I was at a loss as to how to reach him. I supposed I could possibly find a business license with a name, or maybe I could call the county offices in the hopes they would provide me with a home address, but would he speak to me then? If I showed up at his front door? Or would he simply shut the door in my face? Based on the way he’d hung up on me, I suspected the latter. I briefly considered calling for a tow, but figured that as soon as he learned why I’d really called, he’d be angry and even less likely to help.