Page 106 of Rigid

***

“Miss West, this is detective Watson. He’s got a few things to say, and then you’re free to go.”

“Miss West. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but we simply needed to question you. There may or may not be questions that need to be answered in the future. If they come up, I’ll contact Mr. Parsons, and we’ll go from there. Again, sorry for the inconvenience.”

I looked at Mr. Parsons.

He grinned.

I couldn’t believe it. To describe everything that had happened as surreal wouldn’t even come close.

I looked at detective Watson. “Okay.”

“No hard feelings?”

I shook my head and forced myself to grin. “No. Can you tell me where Eddie is?”

“Scripps Mercy,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

He took the handcuffs, and then left the room.

“That was without incident,” Mr. Parsons said. “You’re free to go.”

“Can I get a ride?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Where?”

“Scripps Mercy?”

“Certainly.”

***

Traveling well in excess of 100 miles an hour, we sped down highway 5, toward Scripps Mercy in San Diego. Through Mr. Parsons persuasive tactics, I’d learned that Eddie was scheduled to have surgery at 3:00 am.

At 2:45 in the morning, traffic was sparse. On the highway ahead of us, a long line of taillights from two lines of motorcycles stood out against the otherwise dark stretch of road.

Mr. Parsons changed lanes.

As we passed the bikers, I looked at each of them. I had hoped one might be Smokey, but realized it was wishful thinking.

I was sure he’d been contacted by the hospital, and was probably there already. Five or so minutes later, we came up behind four more motorcycles. Naturally, I looked out the window as we approached them.

“These guys are really moving,” Mr. Parsons said. “I’m going 120.”

“Holy crap,” I said.

Traveling at roughly the same speed, we slowly crept past them. One of the bikers, who was riding an old-school shitty Harley, reminded me of Smokey.

I did a double take.

In the dark, and with him wearing a helmet and glasses, it was hard to tell. But, it could have been his twin. He even had flowery hand tattoos.

As much as I liked to tell myself I was okay, I wasn’t. I was still out of it, and in somewhat of a trance-like state.