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“Jake and I didn’t last long after that. I think he blamed me, even though he denied it. That’s when I moved to KI, to get away from all the people and—”
“Where did it happen? Where was your crash? Exactly.” Reed ground the question out between clenched teeth. His body had gone rigid, all muscles so tightly tensed he thought he might snap in two.
“What? What do you mean?”
“I need to know. Can you tell me the name of the intersection where the crash happened?” His voice was a low growl, sounding rough, like a crazed bear.
“Why?” Her gaze finally refocused and came to rest on his face, bewilderment slowly replacing torment.
“Please, just tell me.”
“It was on the corner of Morphett and Anzac in North Glenelg.” She sat up, pulling the blankets to cover her breasts. “Why, Reed? What does it matter where it was?”
Reed swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his head in his hands. A low groan escaped his throat.
No. This couldn’t be. It couldn’t be right.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Her tone had taken on a high note.
He stood up, unable to sit still a second longer, and started pacing across the room. Should he tell her what he suspected? What he feared? What would it do to her? To them? He’d wanted to take those few seconds in time back for so long. Had revisited them over and over again, wishing them into oblivion. He’d been driving an unmarked police car when he’d gone through a red light. Sirens blaring, blue-and-red lights flashing. All the cars had stopped for him. He’d checked. Double-checked. The other car had come out of nowhere. Her car. They’d told him a baby girl had died in the crash. Died on impact. When he heard that he’d wanted to howl like a wounded animal. Like the sound the woman had made trapped in the car, trying to get to her dead baby.
Was it Sierra?
Was she the woman in the other car?
Had he killed her daughter?
He stared at her, eyes wild, wanting to run from the room.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Reed. You look terrible. Like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He owed her something. An explanation. How did he start?
“I think…” His voice came out hoarse and croaky, like he’d swallowed a toad. He tried again. “I was driving an unmarked police car that day. I hurt my leg in an accident.” He pointed to the scars on his calf. “At the intersection of Morphett and Anzac.”
She got out of the other side of the bed and backed away from him, ignoring the cold and the fact she was completely naked.
“What?” she whispered through bloodless lips. “What are you saying?” She shook her head wildly, her long, dark hair falling in untidy waves across her face. “You can’t be the one… They would never tell me the officer’s name. And I didn’t want to know anyway. Knowing wouldn’t bring back my daughter. But you can’t be him. You can’t!”
“I don’t know, Sierra. I’m not sure.” But he was sure. He reached out a hand toward her. This couldn’t be happening. Surely this wasn’t true, they could figure it out. The two of them.
She recoiled from his hand in horror.
“No.” Her voice was a ghost of a declaration. Dark eyes stared back at him, wide with fear and confusion. Then she started scrabbling around on the floor, gathering up her clothes they had tossed heedlessly around last night. God, was it only last night they’d made love? He’d felt so alive, so overjoyed. Such tenderness and warmth. All of it gone in the blink of an eye.
“I need to get out of here.” Taking her jumbled clothes, she fled to the bathroom.
“Fuck.” Reed ran a hand through his hair and began pacing across the room again, ignoring his own nakedness. The names of the victims of the crash he’d been given were S. Cumberland and her daughter, G. Cumberland. That must have been Sierra’s married name. What had she said her husband was called? Jake? She’d introduced herself as Sierra Goldstein on the ferry. Probably reverted back to her maiden name after she divorced.
The Senior Sergeant had advised Reed against finding out too much information afterward. Said it was better to leave it to procedure. It didn’t help to dwell on the details. If he wanted to move on, continue to do his job as a cop, then he had to drop the guilt, leave the past behind him.
There had been an internal investigation after the crash, of course there had. Reed was laid up in hospital for three weeks afterward, and then there was months of rehab after that. The SAPOL internal investigation unit had grilled him over and over, and Reed had answered them truthfully, over and over. Yes, his sirens had been on. Yes, his lights had been on. Yes, he’d slowed at the intersection. Yes, he’d checked to make sure the traffic was all stopped.
Then she’d just taken off, without any warning. Plowed straight into him, while all the other cars sat obediently waiting for him to pass through.
After talking to witnesses at the scene, the investigation concluded Reed was not to blame for the crash. He’d been carrying out his sworn duty, that was all. Chasing down a fleeing felon, who’d just stabbed an innocent attendant at a nearby gas station. And he’d taken all due precautions before heading through the red light.
There had been an outcry from the public, as there always was when something tragic like this happened. A call for police to stop high-speed pursuits. Reed could understand the public’s view. It was a terrible tragedy, and all they saw was a little girl, dead. But they didn’t see the other side of the coin; how many felons the police had stopped that day, that week, that year. How many other people’s lives had been saved by putting these criminals behind bars where they couldn’t hurt anyone. What were they supposed to do? Let the criminals go? If the underbelly of society knew police weren’t allowed to take part in pursuits, then they’d all start doing it. An easy way to evade the cops. Things would descend into anarchy.
