He approached me beside the coatroom while other guests were taking their seats.
He said we were both reasonable men and should not let lawyers make the matter worse.
I told him any settlement discussion belonged with Nora.
He glanced toward the dining room and lowered his voice.
He said my father had understood the value of leaving certain matters alone.
I felt my chest tighten.
I asked what he meant.
Victor smiled and said my father had been a practical man.
He said the old Mustang had caused enough trouble for one family.
I asked whether he had known my father personally.
Victor said their paths had crossed.
Then he walked away before I could ask another question.
I did not follow him.
I wrote down his words as soon as I reached my car.
The next morning, I gave the note to Nora and described the conversation without adding an interpretation.
She said the statement might matter later, but only if supported by other evidence.
I asked whether Victor was trying to frighten me.
Nora said she could not read his mind.
She could see that he was trying very hard to get the Mustang.
That much was no longer a matter of opinion.
Chapter 24: A Door Opens in Another State
The breakthrough arrived from a place nobody had expected.
A retired waitress in western Ohio recognized Daniel Finch’s photograph after an investigator contacted the former diner owner.
Her name was Helen Marsh.
She had worked the overnight shift at the roadside diner in 2003.
She remembered two men arriving shortly before closing because one of them had been shaking badly.
The older man ordered coffee and a sandwich.
The younger man barely touched his food.
Helen remembered the older man paying in cash and asking for directions to a bus station.
She could not swear that the younger man was Daniel.
She could say the photograph looked familiar.
The diner had closed years earlier, and its records were gone.
But Helen remembered something else.
The older man had asked whether the station sold tickets to Columbus.
Lena followed that lead without telling Rebecca to expect a miracle.
Weeks passed before another piece appeared.
A former social worker remembered helping a young mechanic who arrived in Columbus with no permanent address.
The man had used a shortened version of his name.
He said he needed work and did not want anyone contacting his family.
