“It is.”
“I didn’t know it was worth that much.”
“No, Mark. You didn’t care enough to know. You only care now because money explained what respect should have.”
He sat down slowly. “I never told her to sell it.”
“But you complained enough that she thought she had permission.”
He lowered his head. “I said sometimes I wished it was gone.”
That sentence told me everything. Patricia had not needed direct permission. Mark’s silence, weakness, and resentment had opened the door.
Two days later, Carmen called. They found the truck’s connection to a dealer in Nevada. The Cobra had already been moved to Scottsdale and sold to a collector named James Morrison for $275,000. Thankfully, Morrison cooperated immediately and agreed to hold the car untouched until ownership was resolved.
“It still exists?” I asked.
“It still exists,” Carmen said. “And from the photos, it looks perfect.”
