Grimm leaned over her shoulder. “Is that one your uncle?” He pointed to the man on the left.
Dezi nodded and pointed to the man on the right. “That’s my father, and the man in the middle is my grandfather. He was a World War II veteran and flying ace. My father spent six years on active duty before he left the military and returned home to help my grandfather with the hardware store he bought when he retired from the military.”
“What about your uncle? Did he help?” Grimm asked.
Dezi shook her head. “From all accounts—namely my grandmother—not much. Like I said, my uncle was obsessed with treasure hunting. He didn’t have time to work a real job.”
“Did you know your grandfather?”
“I did,” Dezi said. “He died when I was a teen. Up until then, he doted on me. I was his only grandchild. He and I were close.” She smiled down at the man in the picture. “I miss these three men.”
“Do you mind if I take a closer look at that photo?” Grimm took the picture from her hand and stared closer at the images, his brow furrowing. “Is that a tattoo on your grandfather’s arm?” He pointed to the photograph and her grandfather’s arm.
Dezi’s breath caught. “That’s his left arm.” She squinted, trying to see the tattoo on her grandfather’s arm closer. “It’s a number, isn’t it?”
“I need a magnifying glass,” Grimm said.
Dezi looked around the small bedroom. “My uncle kept a magnifying glass on hand. He was always looking over maps and pictures, imagining hidden messages. He has to have one somewhere.”
She left Grimm in the bedroom and returned to the office with the huge map covering an entire wall. Dezi rummaged through the desk drawer until she located a magnifying glass with a long handle. “Let me see that photo,” she said.
Grimm laid the picture on the desk.
Dezi held the magnifying glass over it and leaned close. “Those are numbers on his arm.” She fumbled in the drawer for a pad and paper and jotted down the numbers. Then she turned to Grimm. “What do you see?” She handed over the magnifying glass, pen and a fresh sheet of paper and then waited for him to come to his own conclusion.
For the next minute, Dezi waited with her breath lodged in her throat and her heart still, waiting for confirmation of how Grimm interpreted the same tattoo. When he stepped back, his brow twisted. He held the sheet of paper up.
Dezi brought hers up beside his, and they compared. “Numbers.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember them. My grandfather held me in his arms so many times. I saw these, but they were so much a part of him I really didn’t see them.”
Grimm frowned. “They look like a date. Month, day, year.”
Dezi’s eyes widened. “What year?”
“1944.”
“My grandfather always talked about a particular battle where he lost most of his battalion, but they won the skirmish in the end. It was in December.”
“December 16, 1944, was the Battle of the Bulge,” Grimm said.
“My grandfather called it the Battle of Ardennes. 12. 16. 44.” Dezi rolled the numbers across her tongue. “I’m not sure what these numbers mean, but we need to get going to the bus and train stations and see if we can decipher the next clue.”
“We’ll keep the numbers in mind. They might have meaning in connection with something else.” Grimm led the way out of the trailer, locking the door behind them.
“For a man with big dreams and aspirations of treasures, my uncle led a small life,” Dezi whispered.
“Or a life he preferred,” Grimm offered.
“A good point,” she concurred. “I just wonder if it was a lonely life.”
Since the bus station was closest, Grimm headed there first.
CHAPTER5
The bus stationwas at the back of a convenience store and actually smaller than the store, with only one person working ticket sales.
The woman behind the glass window called out, “If you’re waiting for someone or waiting to catch the next bus, it won’t be here until five o’clock this afternoon.”
Dezi glanced at the clock on her cell phone. It wasn’t quite noon. “That’s okay,” she said, “We just want to look around. We’re considering taking a bus trip but haven’t made up our minds.”