17
Freedom
TERRANCE
“He fits the profile.”Devon sat on Lothair’s sofa in the sunny atrium, his tablet on the coffee table in front of him. The screen went dark as the device put itself to sleep.
Lothair let out a mighty sigh. “Toby the Screamer. I would never have pegged him for a psycho.”
Devon was looking at me questioningly, waiting for my reaction.
I should be glad. Relieved. The perp was in jail, and Lothair was safe. Well, safer. With his media presence, he’d never be completely free to walk the streets without care.
“Terrance?” Devon prompted.
The problem was, I just couldn’t imagine Toby Olsen behind that wheel. “Does he have any training or experience?”
Devon frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Stunt driving, car racing, his dad was a taxi driver… Anything like that?”
Lothair tensed next to me. He understood where I was going with it.
“It all fits, Terrance,” my boss said. “I talked to the detective. It was Toby Olsen.”
“The car was stolen.”
“The police have verified that Olsen stalked Lothair in another car with stolen license plates on two different occasions.”
“But he didn’t drive like a lunatic on those occasions, did he?”
Lothair put a hand on my forearm. “Terry, let it go. The police say it was Toby, and I really want to believe them. They got him. We’re fine.”
“Haveyouever seen him drive?” I asked him.
Lothair rolled his eyes at me. “No. But maybe he has a hobby. Plenty of people drive like lunatics just because they like it.”
“Not like that. He was nearly as good as you.”
“The driver obviously didn’t have shifter reflexes,” Devon said.
“He did not, I’m not saying that. But he was very good for a human, wasn’t he? Is Olsen that good a driver?”
Devon stood. “I’ll look into it just to be sure, but I’m inclined to be satisfied with this outcome, Terrance. I’ll send you the report. The evidence is convincing.”
That was the thing. It was too simple. A former lover turned stalker turned vehicular assailant. It was too much…like one of Lothair’s movies.
Lothair squeezed my hand. “Let it go, Terry.”
Was I being paranoid? Maybe Toby Olsen did have a hobby. Maybe he was that good a driver. Maybe our sabotaging his attempt to frame Lothair had really pissed him off that much. It wasn’t impossible.
“I’ll send you the report,” Devon repeated with a nod toward me.
My mate shot up and accompanied my boss to the door, shaking his hand and thanking him.
As soon as the door closed behind Devon, Lothair pointed at me, his smile growing to maniacal dimensions. “We’re going out tonight!”
I exhaled and counted to ten.
