by C. M. Sutter
“Mr. Charles?”
“That’s me,” he said, “but you don’t look like a nurse.”
We entered the room, and Amber smiled. “And for good reason. We aren’t nurses. I’m Detective Amber Monroe, and this is my partner, Detective Kate Pierce. We’re from the sheriff’s office.”
He nodded. “You’re here about the accident, right?”
“That’s correct, sir. The deputies at the scene didn’t get a witness statement from you for obvious reasons—you needed immediate medical attention. How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’ll be here for a few days and then on medical leave for six weeks. Broken ankle and cracked kneecap on my right leg, broken arm on the left, and multiple cuts and contusions. Overall, it isn’t my best day.”
“I bet it isn’t. Do you mind if we sit and ask you a few questions?”
“Do I need my attorney present since I intend to sue for injuries?”
I took my turn. “No, we’d need a witness statement regardless of whether you sued or not, and the insurance companies would insist on a copy of it too. What we want is your true recollection of the accident, but first we need to know that you’re coherent and can answer our questions with a clear mind. Are you fully awake? No residual grogginess from your surgery?”
“I think I’m okay. I’m due for some pain meds, but I’ll wait until after the interview.”
I gave him a nod. “If you don’t remember anything, that’s understandable considering the circumstances.”
“Oh, I remember everything, and to be honest, it was pretty frightening.” He tipped his chin at me. “Go ahead and ask away.”
Amber pulled out her notepad, and I began.
“Okay, where were you going this morning when the accident occurred?”
“To work. I live here in North Bend, but I work at F. P. Lyons Construction in Campbellsport. My medical compensation is only three quarters of my actual weekly pay, and that doesn’t figure in the amount of overtime we work. Summer is our busy months, you know.”
“Yep and noted. So, you were driving north on Highway 45, and then what happened?”
“Then I saw a car behaving erratically in the southbound lanes. The cars around it swerved to get out of its way, and then they backed off. I thought the driver had fallen asleep and then overcorrected when they felt the rumble strips, but it swerved again. That time, it jumped the median and came directly at me, toward the center lane. A semi was skidding behind me, and other cars were to my left and right—I had nowhere to go. It was like bumper-car madness with everyone trying to avoid getting hit. I was within twenty feet of a head-on collision when there was enough space to swerve left. My car crossed two lanes and hit the ditch. That’s when it flipped on its roof.”
“That had to be horrifying,” Amber said.
Mr. Charles wiped his eyes with the back of his right hand. “I thought I was going to die, and before it was all over, I wanted a good look at the face that caused my death.”
My eyes widened with disbelief. “And what did you see?”
“Not a damn thing. The driver’s side visor was down.”
I thought about when the accident occurred. The sun would have been overhead in the east to southeast skies, and the highway did have a few slight curves. Becca might have lowered her visor because of the glaring sun, and I wondered if that could have been a factor that led to the accident.
We ended the interview when Bill’s wife showed up, and with a thank-you and wishes for a speedy recovery, Amber and I left the hospital.
I climbed into the passenger seat, and we headed to the sheriff’s office. “We need to mention the sun’s position in the sky to Jack. Maybe it blinded Becca enough to cause her to swerve, especially if somebody ahead of her braked for a second. The witnesses may need to be interviewed again.”
“I agree, and let’s get his take on it. I’d be happy to conduct some interviews while Billings and Clayton sit at their desks and file paperwork all day. It’s too beautiful outside to be cooped up indoors, anyway.”
We entered the building and headed for the bull pen. Jack saw us walk through the security door and motioned us toward his office. Inside, we took seats on his guest chairs, and Amber pulled out her notes.
“Let’s hear it. Did you have an aha moment after speaking to Mr. Charles?”
“Possibly,” I said. I knew Jack was half kidding with that remark, but his surprised expression told me he was all ears. “We asked Mr. Charles to walk us through what he remembered from this morning. His account was pretty much on target with what the rest of the witnesses said as far as Becca’s car swerving left and right before speeding across the median. Mr. Charles thought she was about to hit him head-on and said he wanted to see the face of the person who was about to kill him.”
“That sounds ominous.”
I nodded. “No kidding, right? I asked him what he saw, and he said he saw nothing. The driver’s visor was pulled down.”
Jack’s shoulders slumped. “That was your aha moment?”
“No, it was the fact that her visor was down. It got me thinking about the sun’s position at that time of morning. Maybe the east to southeast sun glaring through her windshield blinded her enough to cause the accident.”
Jack rubbed his chin. “Okay, that could make sense.”
“I hear a but coming,” Amber said.
“Yes, you do. But why wouldn’t she brake or just pull to the shoulder to compose herself? It was like she was in a runaway car.”
Now it was my shoulders that slumped. “So, there’s no point in asking the people in the southbound lanes who left witness statements if they remember the sun glaring so much this morning that it made it difficult to see clearly.”
Jack opened the witness statement folder that was lying on his desk. “Hang on. I believe there were only two people from the southbound lanes who stayed behind to give statements.” He licked his thumb and index finger and paged through the notes. “Here we go, one woman and one man, each in separate cars.”
He handed the witness statements to me with their names and contact numbers, and I passed one to Amber.
“I believe simple phone calls would be all it takes to get the answers you need.” Jack tapped the desk with his fingertips. “Okay, go ahead and make those calls, and I’ll pull Becca’s driving records and get a warrant for her phone calls. They’ll show me if she was prone to texting while driving or not.”
Chapter 10
I noticed the grin on Clayton’s face as we left Jack’s office. “Hoping to go for another drive, weren’t you?”
“Eavesdropper. Don’t you have paperwork to file?”
“Not that much anymore since I’m going to share it with you.”
“Whatever.” I fired off a frown at Clayton as I passed his desk and took a seat at my own. Once I was situated, I called the phone number on the witness statement, and Amber did the same with hers. We were hoping to hear answers that would explain everything, but it wasn’t meant to be. Both parties said the sun didn’t seem to factor in at all on their morning drive south. That discounted my theory of Becca’s accident being caused by temporary sun blindness.
I felt discouraged as I thanked the gentleman for his time and placed the handset back on the base. I had hoped I was onto something, but I wasn’t. “I guess we’re back to square one. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy report to know anything definitive.” I reached for the stack of files Chad had placed on my desk and dug in.
Moments later, Lena walked in and headed for Jack’s office door with a folder in her hand. I was sure it was the early results of Becca’s exam. I cleared my throat loudly, causing Jack to look out into the bull pen. He saw Lena coming his way and exited his office. He met her next to Amber’s desk. My plan had worked, and I hoped Jack would allow her to share the information with all of us.
“Whatcha got, Lena?” Jack pointed at Amber’s guest chair as he rolled his shoulders and neck. He took a seat in the
chair next to my desk.
“Just some early information about Becca’s autopsy, primarily the basics. The detailed results will come back with the blood work and urinalysis.” She opened the folder and began with Jack’s go-ahead. “By all appearances, Becca Morbeck was a healthy nineteen-year-old female. Her weight and height were proportionate at five feet six inches and one hundred twenty-six pounds. Her muscle tone was excellent, and her body fat was a low fifteen percent.”
I added my take. “She did look very fit.”
Lena nodded. “And she was. She had shoulder-length blond hair and green eyes. Her teeth were well cared for with only three fillings in her entire mouth. No tattoos or piercings. Her heart looked normal, and there weren’t any signs of internal bleeding.” Lena gave me a subtle smile. “Her lungs appeared healthy, so I’d say she wasn’t a smoker. Under the microscope, her stomach contents looked like breakfast cereal, so she obviously ate before leaving home this morning. The only thing that looked off to me was her esophagus and stomach lining itself.”
Jack’s forehead creased. “Off how?”
“Red and inflamed, which unfortunately could be caused from a handful of problems from chronic acid indigestion and GERD to esophageal and stomach cancer. I’m not sure what I should test for since it’s unlikely that any medical issues like those would send somebody flying off the freeway into oncoming traffic. Before any type of medical problem became severe enough to disable her while driving—other than a massive heart attack—she would have felt the symptoms of the disease and would have been under a doctor’s care. Having her parents pull her medical records is a good place to start.”
“Assuming she passed out behind the wheel, what would cause that to happen other than being sleep deprived? Because of finals, many students stay awake all night cramming for exams. I know I did.”
Lena turned to Amber. “Do you know she passed out? If she was up all night, she probably drank caffeinated beverages, which would make her wired, not sleepy.”
Amber shrugged. “Just throwing out ideas that obviously don’t make sense. A person who doesn’t instinctively slam on their brakes in a situation like that seems abnormal to me.”
“Same here,” Jack said. “I’m leaning toward her being under the influence of something, passed out, or already dead.”
Lena glanced at her notes one more time then turned to Jack. “Ask her folks if Becca ever had heart problems, even as a youth, and then ask them to pull her medical records. I’ll send out her blood work for drug testing, but the appearance of her stomach and esophagus still sticks in my craw. I’ll test for cancer too even though that wouldn’t have led to her accident.”
“Is there a cancer drug that could have rendered her sleepy or unconscious?” Jack asked.
“Not sure, but I’ll check into that. You’d think her parents would be aware of something as serious as cancer, though. I’ll see if I can get the lab to put a rush on the blood and urinalysis tests. I should have more answers by tomorrow, at least about being under the influence of drugs or alcohol.”
Jack let out a hard breath and thanked Lena for what she had so far. “Okay, guys, call it a wrap. There’s nothing to follow up on now until Lena gets us more answers.”
“How about talking to some of her friends and professors? They, if anyone, would know if she was under stress or not getting enough sleep because of exams,” Amber said.
“Yeah, but let’s save that for tomorrow. I’ll have Tech pull her social media accounts too. They’re usually full of helpful information.”
Chapter 11
“Something on your mind?” Amber glanced at me as she waited at the stoplight.
“Sort of.” I stared out the window as I thought of Lena’s startling comment about Becca’s stomach and esophagus.
“Do you want to expand on that or keep it to yourself?” Amber pressed the gas pedal and continued through the intersection.
I swatted the air. “You don’t want to hear my nonsense.”
“Sure I do, and sometimes you actually make sense.”
I gave her the middle finger. “You sure?”
“Uh-huh, go ahead.”
“Okay, if you insist. Twice today, I had to go to Lena’s office, and the first time, bile came up my throat and stabbing pains shot through my stomach while I was standing next to Becca’s body. The second time, I barely entered Lena’s office and it began again. I backed out, and it went away.”
“That’s ridiculous. Do you think her office holds some bad juju?”
“No, not at all. Actually, I blamed it on the coffee until it happened the second time. I think it’s related to Becca. Remember what Lena said in her description of Becca’s organs?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
“Let me refresh your memory. She said Becca’s stomach and esophagus were red and inflamed.”
“Right. And your stomach hurt and bile came up your throat. Are you thinking it’s transference? Becca’s medical problems are now yours? Is that even possible?”
I shook my head. “Hell if I know. Look at the husbands who claim to have morning sickness alongside their pregnant wives.”
Amber snickered. “You’re talking about attention hogs. They’re just men who feel left out.”
“Whatever. But on a serious note, nothing like that—if it’s related to my psychic abilities—has ever happened to me before.”
Amber pulled into the driveway and tapped the garage door remote. “I know what you should do while I’m making dinner.”
“Research transference?”
“Absolutely.”
Inside, we found Jade talking on the phone. She gave us a hello nod, continued for several minutes, then hung up. She pulled three beers from the refrigerator, handed them out, and took a seat next to me at the breakfast bar. She peered over my arm, clearly wondering what I was conducting a search on.
“Transference? Why are you looking into that?”
I pulled back. “What’s with all the nosy people today? Clayton was eavesdropping earlier, and now you’re eyedropping.”
“That was funny.” Amber stuck her head into the lower cabinet and pulled out a saucepan.
“Is this about the big accident on 45 this morning?”
“Yeah, you heard about it?”
“No, but that was Jack who just called. He wanted to know how it felt and what I did once I realized my brakes were gone, thanks to Warren Ricks.”
I set down my phone. “Sorry for snapping at you.”
“That’s okay. It was a cute comment and pretty clever. Anyway, I told him I was petrified and kept hitting the brakes even though it didn’t help. He gave me the short version of the accident and said the witnesses never saw brake lights.”
Amber lit the burner and set the pot of leftover homemade chicken dumpling soup to a low setting. It would simmer for a half hour, and we’d have grilled cheese sandwiches to go along with it. She joined us and took a seat on the barstool. “Kate thinks she felt the symptoms of something Lena mentioned about the condition of Becca’s stomach and esophagus.”
Jade furrowed her brows. “Really? Is that even possible?”
“No clue. Transference is usually the feelings and emotions of one person to another, primarily stemming from childhood issues. It isn’t normally a physical thing, but there is that twin phenomenon when one gets sick then the other falls sick too.”
Amber craned her neck around Jade. “And don’t forget the pregnant-husband syndrome.”
“Yeah, and that.”
Jade chuckled. “Sounds like you guys already did the research.”
After dinner and a few TV shows, I pulled a limp cat off my lap and announced I was going to bed. Spaz bristled at me for disturbing his sleep. “I’m beat. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Jade and Amber wished me sweet dreams as I headed for my basement bedroom. I hoped for a restful night, and sweet dreams would be a plus.
Chapter 12
She covered her mouth and yawned. “
I really should go. Tomorrow is another day of exams.” Daphne tried to be discreet as she glanced up at the wall clock.
“Do you think I was born yesterday? All you want to do is get out of here so you can meet up with your piece of shit boyfriend. That lowlife has nothing going for him, but look at me, I went out of my way for you with a perfect four-course dinner. We made love, and I could tell you enjoyed it. Your enthusiasm was obvious.” He stared at her. “So what’s your hurry, Daphne?”
She appeared nervous as she picked at her cuticles. “Nothing, I’m just tired. I want to be wide awake for tomorrow’s tests.”
“One more glass of wine won’t kill you. It’s only ten o’clock.”
She reluctantly agreed. She had seen his intimidating side and didn’t want to go there again.
“Stay put. I’ll fill our glasses.” He rose from the couch and took the wineglasses into the kitchen. Earlier, when she was showering, he’d scooped up her car keys and dropped them into his pants pocket. There was no chance of her sneaking away while his back was turned. At the counter, he tipped the shaker of fentanyl over her wineglass then returned it to the cabinet on his left. With a plastic spoon—so she wouldn’t hear the stirring—he made sure the powder was dissolved before walking back to the living room with a glass in each hand.
“Here you go. I promise this will be the last glass of wine for you tonight.” He handed the left glass to Daphne and took a seat at her side. “Let’s make a toast.”
She forced a smile. “To what?”
“To a night to remember.”
Daphne frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“We had a wonderful dinner and then some. Yes?”
She looked at her lap and nodded.
“Then it’s a night worth remembering. At least I’ll always remember it.” He tapped his wineglass against hers. “Cheers.” He took a deep sip and watched her do the same. He was sure she’d guzzle it as fast as possible in hopes of leaving soon.
Sweet Daphne, you aren’t going anywhere since you’ll be dead in a matter of minutes.
