The black, two-door Mustang her father had been driving since the late 1980s. Her father had refused to say anything regarding the incident, other than to make her promise that she’d pick up the car and park it in his garage. “I don’t understand him at all.” Lindsey stood beside the car in the impound lot and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t he tell me this before? He was out when he collapsed, and his car was parked on the street. I thought he was home when it happened.” Kyle folded his arms across his chest. “I suppose your father deserves some leeway considering all that he’s been through the past few days.” “I agree, but what was he doing the night he called 911?” Lindsey frowned. Something must have upset him enough to affect him physically. Had he met with Jamie McDonald? Had Jamie threatened that he had to pay up or else?
