by Emily James
The best person to text seemed to be Erik. He’d take my text seriously and act swiftly, but he wouldn’t panic. I wouldn’t know if the text went through, and I wouldn’t be able to respond to any questions Erik had, so I’d have to be perfectly clear the first time.
“What road are we on?” I asked Mark. “And the crossroads as best as you can remember.”
He gave me the names.
I thought about crossing my fingers, but that wouldn’t help anything. Instead I sent up a quick prayer that this would work.
“Siri, tell Erik I was run off Brookside, between Green and Willowvale. I need help.”
“Okay,” the automated voice said. “Telling Erik I was run off Brookside between Green and Willowvale. I need help. Is this what you want to say?”
“Yes,” I nearly shouted.
“Sending.”
I tried to listen for the little swish sound that signaled a text had sent, but my purse muffled it too much.
Hopefully this wasn’t a dead zone. If it was, the text would sit in limbo until my phone reached a spot with service. If nothing else, if we didn’t make it out of this, my text would tell Erik this hadn’t been an accident.
It wasn’t as good as calling 911, but it was the best we had.
My teeth chattered. The chill was starting to feel like it came from the inside rather than just the outside. “How long can we afford to wait to see if he got it?”
“Ten minutes,” Mark said. “The water’s too cold. After that, the guarantee of hypothermia will outweigh the risk of making our injuries worse by unbuckling and letting ourselves fall.”
21
I pressed the light button on my watch again. The face glowed bluish-green, illuminating the numbers.
“What are we at?” Mark asked.
“Nine minutes.”
I brushed my fingers against my seatbelt. I’d give Erik every second of the ten minutes to send help for us. I’d need that time to brace myself anyway. There was no way this wasn’t going to hurt if I dropped from my suspended position.
The seconds ticked away. My watch light clicked off again a few seconds before we hit the ten-minute point.
I sucked in a long breath. “I’ll go first. I have a shorter distance to fall.”
“Wait.” Mark reached out toward me. “I think I hear them.”
I strained my ears. It was faint but…yes. Sirens. And they were coming toward us.
The whole Cavanaugh clan was already waiting when we reached the hospital—a side effect of texting Erik. If I’d ever doubted that I was already considered a member of the family, I didn’t anymore. They didn’t flock only to Mark. They flocked to me as well, fussing and asking questions. The doctors had to order them to move back and wait.
For the next few hours, they shuttled me around to have x-rays and CT scans and other exams that I was too tired to track. Elise went back and forth between me and Mark, updating each of us on the other.
The positive side was that the results all came back clean. I sent up my millionth Thank you, Lord prayer. I’d seen less serious accidents result in broken backs and death. Mark had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I’d be bruised and sore, but I was okay.
Assuming you could call having a shiner two weeks before your wedding okay. I’d caught a glimpse of myself in a piece of reflective metal as they’d wheeled me from one test to another. The air bag must have hit me in the face. I had a black eye, a cheekbone already sporting a bruise, and a few scrapes. Better that, though, than the steering wheel catching me in the face.
When they finally brought me back to the room where they wanted to keep me overnight for observation, Detective Dillion sat in the chair next to my bed.
“I hope you don’t mind.” He propped one foot up on the opposite knee in the way some men had of crossing their legs. “I asked your family to wait until I’d spoken to you.”
I did mind. There was no reason some of the Cavanaughs couldn’t be with me while I gave him my statement. But I had the distinct impression that he didn’t actually care.
The nurse helped me settle into the bed and gave me a look that said Should I make him leave?
I smiled in a way that I hoped let her know I was fine. He needed to take my statement before he could hunt down who’d done this. As much as he irked me, I wanted him to be able to do his job.
“The call button’s here”—the nurse pointed to it—“in case you need anything.”
Detective Dillion watched her go, an annoyed look on his face like she should have realized he was the good guy and I was the one engaged to a criminal. “I’m sure you’re ready with a statement to give me about what happened, but I wanted to be sure before you did that you realize we’ll protect you if this was an attempted murder-suicide by Cavanaugh. You don’t have to lie to protect him because you’re afraid of what he’ll do.”
Wow. This man was one hundred percent convinced that Mark was a villain. “I was driving, so I can guarantee that wasn’t the case. You can confirm that with the first responders if you’d like.”
He took down my statement without further jabs at Mark. Any time I tried to stray into why we might have been run off the road, though, he shut me down. Which was probably for the best anyway. I couldn’t have elaborated on the possible reasons without mentioning the file, and if I wanted another copy, I couldn’t let Detective Dillion know how we’d acquired the copy we had.
Elise came into the room as I was finishing. Her patience with Detective Dillion isolating me must have finally run out.
He vacated the chair next to my bed, and she dropped into it and shot a look at Detective Dillion’s retreating back that said she’d love it if he kept on walking, straight out of Fair Haven. “If we can’t find Chief McTavish, I hope they don’t stick us with him permanently.”
I doubted Detective Dillion would be willing to stay even if they asked him. “Has everyone else gone home?”
Elise nodded. “Everyone but Erik and me. We’re going to sleep here. Just in case.”
Just in case whoever ran us off the road came back to kill us while we slept. That seemed unlikely. They’d wanted our crash to look like an accident. Otherwise, they could have climbed down into the ditch and shot us both while we dangled from our seatbelts like laundry on the line.
That said, I’d sleep better knowing Elise was here, just like Isabel had slept better in my house than she had in her truck.
Elise leaned back in her chair and then shifted around as if she were trying to find the most comfortable position to take a cat nap. “Erik wanted me to make sure you knew for future reference that your phone will dial 911 if you tell it to even if it isn’t connected to Bluetooth.”
That would have been useful information to have a couple of hours ago. That’s what I got for avoiding the voice functions on my phone because the automated voice gave me the willies. Mark might have thought of it if he didn’t have a head injury, but I hadn’t even realized the option existed.
“As soon as I have a chance at the Internet, I’m going to research everything my phone can do with voice commands. Hopefully that will mean I never need to use them.”
Elise laughed. “Is there anything else you need before I get too comfortable?”
That didn’t seem like a real risk considering she planned to sleep in a hospital chair. But I did need to call Isabel and warn her that her husband might be in Fair Haven so she should lie low at my house for now. If it had been her husband, he clearly didn’t know where she was hiding since he’d been following me. She should be safe at my house overnight.
I also needed to get us another copy of that file as soon as possible. My credit with Grady Scherwin had run out, but Elise might still have some luck.
EMS had rescued my purse from my car and Elise had it, so I called Isabel first. I got the impression that this wasn’t the first time he’d found her. And that she would have been gone tonight if she hadn’t felt responsible for returning my kindness of a place to
sleep by watching my dogs while I was in the hospital.
We disconnected the call, and I laid my phone down on the bed beside me.
I placed a hand over top of it. As silly as it was, I felt better being able to reach out and touch it and know that it was there. “Now I need you to call Grady Scherwin for me.”
Elise rolled her eyes. “Funny.”
I wished I was joking. I caught her up on what Mark and I had been doing right before the crash. There hadn’t been the time or the privacy before now.
Elise’s skin took on the pale, translucent quality of tracing paper. “Grady Scherwin it is. I’ll have to call the station, though. I don’t have his personal number, either.”
I’d have wondered about her if she did.
Elise dialed. “Hey, Sheila.” Her foot tapped a rhythm on the floor. “I need to get ahold of Grady, and I know he’s working tonight. Could you give me his cell number or get in touch with him yourself to have him call me right away? It’s important.”
She hadn’t needed to tell Sheila her name. The dispatchers really must get to know the officers’ voices well.
I could hear Sheila saying something on the other end, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Elise’s gaze skittered in my direction. “Are you sure?” she asked into the phone.
More noise on the other end.
Elise’s lips moved in what might have been a silent curse word. “Thanks, Sheila.”
She disconnected the call.
A tension headache built at the base of my skull. “What’s wrong?”
“Grady was put on administrative leave. Effective immediately. Sheila gave me his cell phone number but…”
But we wouldn’t need it. If Grady had been relieved of duty, too, he couldn’t get us another copy of the file.
My ruse to hide the papers from Rigman must have failed. It had to have been him, both who ran us off the road and who reported Grady to keep him away from the file going forward on the off chance we survived. Perhaps he’d also done it because Grady had shown loyalty to Chief McTavish by searching for him during his off hours. Someone who would do that might have examined the file himself if Mark and I had died in that crash.
We might never know Rigman’s full reasons unless he confessed once we had solid evidence against him.
His reasons didn’t matter as much as proving his guilt, though. We had to get that file.
Unfortunately, there was only one man left who could give it to us—Detective Dillion.
22
Elise insisted on grabbing a wheelchair even though I told her I could walk to Mark’s room. We needed to catch Detective Dillion before he left. He could already be done taking Mark’s statement.
Once he left the hospital, our chances of convincing him to allow us to see the file shrunk significantly. Asking him over the phone—assuming he’d even take our call—had the same odds of success as I had of becoming a prima ballerina. I also doubted we’d be able to convince him to come back and speak with us.
Elise rolled me down the hall so fast we got a dirty look from a nurse and a personal support worker.
Detective Dillion was coming out of Mark’s room as we rolled up.
“Change your mind?” he asked.
“About Mark causing the accident? Nope.”
The wheelchair twitched underneath me like Elise’s hands had spastically closed on the handles. She clearly hadn’t realized the detective hoped to pin that on Mark as well.
I placed a hand on one wheel. “But you said if I thought of a reason anyone might have wanted to kill us, I should let you know.”
He let out a this-better-not-be-a-waste-of-my-time sigh and swept a hand toward the door.
Elise pushed me in, and Detective Dillion followed us. Mark raised an eyebrow. Elise scooted around the bed and whispered in his ear.
Detective Dillion couldn’t have failed to see it, but Mark shouldn’t be blindsided by what was coming. He nodded at me. I took it as a go for it.
At this point, we didn’t really have anything to lose.
Detective Dillion stayed near the doorway, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.
Elise spun me around to face him better like she’d read my mind.
“Mark has been helping Chief McTavish investigate a corruption ring that former Chief Wilson was a part of. Chief McTavish gave Mark a file on the death of Chief John Zacharius, the man Wilson took over the role of police chief from. Chief McTavish felt Chief Zacharius’ death was connected somehow. The file was stolen from Mark’s house the night Troy Summoner was killed.”
Detective Dillion made an exaggerated show of checking his watch. “I don’t have time to listen to you argue why I shouldn’t have arrested Cavanaugh for Officer Summoner’s murder.”
Of course not, I wanted to say. Heaven forbid you might have to admit you arrested the wrong man.
But I didn’t, because if we could get a copy of the file, it might give us the evidence to prove Mark’s innocence strongly enough to force the district attorney to drop all charges before the case went to trial. At that point, Detective Dillion’s opinion wouldn’t matter.
“I told you all that because we got another copy of the file shortly before we were run off the road. We believe they did it to stop Mark from seeing whatever was in it.”
“And you want me to give you a fresh copy?”
The tone of his voice already said no way.
He pushed off the wall. “Can you tell me there’s no other possible reason someone would have tried to kill either of you? Because unless you can, I’m not handing confidential material over to a man who stands accused of murder.”
I started to say that there couldn’t be any other reason. But there could. Isabel’s husband for one. Someone else one of us had angered in our past investigations for two and up.
Detective Dillion wagged his head. He must have read it in my expression.
“Cavanaugh will have his day in court. Save your stories for then.”
When she dropped me off at my house the next afternoon, Elise wanted to stay and make sure I was alright, but I convinced her to go home and see her kids. The truth was that Elise’s body language screamed I’m a cop even when she was out of uniform. Isabel would take one look at her and escape out a back window if Elise came inside.
Isabel and the dogs met me at the front door. I tried my best to dodge Velma and Toby’s whip-like tails as they welcomed me. Taking a blow from their tails hurt on the best of days, and my whole body still felt like I’d fallen out of a second-story window.
I used one hand to pet each dog at the same time. “How did it go with these two last night?”
“They were angels.”
My dogs were a lot of things, including sweet and loveable. Angelic, though, wasn’t one of them.
One corner of Isabel’s mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “Mostly. The black-and-white one did eat my dinner. But I did an Internet search to make sure nothing in it would hurt her afterward.”
Now that sounded more like my dogs. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not the first time Velma has been counter surfing.”
Toby tried to wedge himself in between Velma and my leg for exclusive welcome-home cuddles. He stepped on a purple duffle bag sitting by the door.
Isabel’s bag.
I stretched my hand toward it. “You don’t have to leave.”
All the smile drained out of her. “I think I do. If Jerrod is here in Fair Haven and knows that you’d be able to lead him to me, it’s only a matter of time before he finds me.”
Aside from the fact that my wedding would be cake-less if she left now, running off on her own didn’t seem like the safest thing to do. “We don’t know that it was your husband. I think this attack has to do with Mark’s case.” I waded through the happy dog mob toward her. “Besides, you’re safer here where you have allies and people watching out for you. We can work together. I’ll help you get a restraining order.”
&nb
sp; “That puts you in too much danger. Look what it already might have done.” She sidestepped me and the dogs and slung her duffle over her shoulder. “But I want you to know that I appreciate what you did in letting me stay here. Not everyone would have, and it was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months. When you live in your car, you see too much after dark, even in the nicest towns, to ever feel safe anywhere. I don’t so much sleep in my truck as I close my eyes and listen for danger.”
You see too much.
For days I’d felt like she wanted to tell me something and yet didn’t feel she could or didn’t know if she should. She’d been in the vicinity when Chief McTavish was taken. It wasn’t only her truck that was there since her truck was her home. And I knew from experience that she would have heard a car pull up—let alone two cars—and she would have been watching.
If she could identify the person who met McTavish that night, we might be able to show that there was a link between his disappearance and the corruption investigation. It could be what we needed to convince Detective Dillion to allow Mark to look at the file. The mastermind behind the corruption cover up in Fair Haven wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if that file wouldn’t reveal him.
I spun around. “Did you see something last Thursday night? Two men in the Lakeshore Park parking lot?”
Isabel clenched a hand around her duffle bag strap. Her knuckles turned pink and white. “Nothing I saw is going to help you. I didn’t see faces. I can’t identify anyone.”
I’d learned with Isabel that what she didn’t say was as important as what she did. “Could you identify the cars? Or do you remember a license plate number?”
“Even if I could…” She shook her head.
Even if she could, she couldn’t very well give Detective Dillion her fake name. Purchasing a fake ID was a crime.
Reporting what she’d seen to the police would mean her real name showing up in the system as a witness. It could mean testifying at trial. Given what she’d told me about her husband and his law enforcement connections, that was as good as mailing him a letter with her return address on it. She might be able to hide until the trial date, but then he’d be waiting for her.
