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I can see from the look on his face that he does. But there’s more than just familiarity there. I see a flicker of something dark in his eyes.
Is it fear?
Terry clears his throat, gruff. “I don’t have anything to say about that.”
He turns away from me, back to the garden, but I move closer. “Please, it’s important. I read your report,” I add quickly. “I know there must be more to what happened.”
Terry pauses. “If you’ve read the report, then you know the facts,” he says carefully.
“No, it doesn’t add up,” I insist. “There’s something you wouldn’t say. An accident like this, there should have been more attention paid. The press, media, I don’t know. But it looks like a cover-up.”
“So maybe you should take a hint, and leave the past where it belongs,” Terry says firmly. “Believe me, kid, those are powerful people.”
“I know.” I move to stand directly in front of him, blocking his path. “I’m already tangled up with the Wolfes. Ineedto know the truth. Please,” I add, and maybe there’s something in my eyes that Terry recognizes, because he exhales.
“I don’t have any truths. Just… suspicions.”
“I’ll take them,” I say eagerly. “Whatever you have to say about that night, I want to hear it.”
Terry looks at me for a long moment. “Then you better come in and have a cup of tea.”
He leads me to the house, and through the back door into the kitchen. He peels off his muddy shoes, and washes up at the farmhouse sink, while I look around. The house is warm and homey, and I see photos of Terry with a wife and adult children, pinned to the refrigerator, and framed on the walls.
“When I arrived at the scene of the accident, there were two cars there,” he begins. “One of them, the one with Patrick Wolfe’s body inside, was mangled and on fire. I could see Patrick’s body inside, and he was already dead. His little girl, Scarlett, was hurt, burned pretty bad.” He shakes his head at the memory, putting the tea kettle on the stove. “Some passersby were already tending to her, they’d seen the crash and pulled over.”
“What about the other car?” I ask, taking a seat at the table.
“It had been hit head-on,” Terry replies. “Looked like the driver had been killed instantly. There were skid marks all over the road, I guess they’d all tried to avoid the collision.”
Bianca’s father. I wince.
“So… Itwasjust a tragic accident?” I ask, frowning.
He pauses. “It looked that way…” he begins, but I can tell, he’s not convinced.
“Tell me,” I encourage him. “You saw something, didn’t you? Something you didn’t put in the report. Please, anything could help me. Any details at all.”
Terry sighs. “It wasn’t right,” he says finally, sitting with me at the table. “The accident, it didn’t look right. Patrick Wolfe’s body was in the passenger seat when I saw it, not behind the wheel. It’s possible that he was thrown around in the accident, but… The driver’s side door was open. Why didn’t he fall, or crawl out that side? And then there was the kid, Scarlett. The people who stopped to help say they found her about twenty yards from the vehicle. She was unconscious. So, how did she get out of the car?”
“She could have crawled, before she passed out?” I offer, but even I know, it doesn’t sound right.
Terry nods. “Could have. But she was in a bad way, I just don’t see it.”
I try to picture the scene in my mind, the crushed front end of the car. The fire. Scarlett hurt and Patrick dead. But all the details Terry just provided allow me to put the pieces together.
“You think someone else was there?” I ask, feeling a chill.
He nods, reluctant. “I think someone else was driving. Someone else caused the crash.”
My heart stops.
“Are you sure?” I whisper. Whatever I was expecting to hear from him, it wasn’t this.
Terry gives a wry chuckle. “I’m not sure of anything, but I suspect that the person behind the wheel, the one responsible for the accident, pulled Scarlett out and then fled the scene before anyone arrived. Leaving those two bodies behind.”
I gulp. “Do you have a suspect?” I venture.
But I don’t really have to ask. I already know what he’s about to say.
