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“I know what I saw,” Anthony stubbornly insisted.
“What you saw was an old man who hit the gas when he should have hit the brakes and smashed into the back of his garage. It happens. Hell, the judge did it before. Don’t you remember the bakery? He took out the front window.”
“Why wasn’t he wearing a seat belt?” Anthony demanded. “And why was his airbag switched off?”
Kaden and Lia exchanged a silent glance. Anthony clearly didn’t believe the judge’s death was a random accident.
“Because he thought he was above the laws he enforced on everyone else,” Tate snapped. “You know that better than me. How many times did you complain he parked in handicapped spots without the proper tags?”
Anthony folded his arms over his chest. “He looked like he’d been beaten.”
“He was just in a car wreck, for Christ’s sake.”
“I still say it should be investigated. That’s what Zac would do.”
Lia silently applauded Anthony’s dogged determination to stand his ground. And the deputy was right. If Zac Evans were here, the sheriff ’s office would be investigating a lot of stuff. Starting with her belief that she’d seen a woman jump from the railroad bridge fifteen years ago to Kaden’s insistence the skeleton was Vanna Zimmerman to this latest accident.
“Zac isn’t here and I’m in charge.”
“It should be investigated.”
Tate stomped his feet, his gaze flicking toward the nearby house, as if searching for inspiration. Then, a strange smile twisted his lips.
“Listen, Anthony, I didn’t want to share this with anyone until I had a chance to decide what to do.”
“Share what?”
“Leon came to see me yesterday.”
Anthony frowned, as if it took him a second to recognize that Leon was the dead man’s first name. Everyone in town called him “Judge.”
“He came to the office?” he at last asked.
“No, he called and wanted to meet at my house. He said he wanted privacy to tell me something.”
“What was it?” There was a long silence. “Well?” Anthony prompted.
The mayor cleared his throat, glancing from side to side before he spoke. “He confessed that he hit that boy. What’s his name? The one with no neck?”
“Drew Hurst?” Anthony hesitantly offered.
“Yes.” Tate snapped his fingers. “That’s the one. Leon said he hit him and drove away.”
Anthony’s mouth hung open as he visibly struggled to accept what the mayor was saying. Lia was battling the same stunned sense of disbelief. Of all the things she thought the mayor might say, that was at the very bottom of the list.
“Judge Armstrong hit Drew Hurst with his car and drove away,” Anthony said, as if he needed the words repeated.
Tate shrugged. “He told me that he slid on the ice and didn’t even see the kid until it was too late. A tragic accident.” He shrugged again. “Unfortunately, he panicked, and instead of staying to face the consequences, he returned to his house and tried to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Anthony’s brow furrowed, a sudden anger tightening his features. “Why didn’t you arrest him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s an old friend and a respected member of this community.”
“If what you just said is true, he nearly killed Drew and then fled the scene of a crime.”
Tate clicked his tongue, as if to indicate that Anthony was completely overreacting to the situation.
“I was in the process of negotiating for him to turn himself in. It would have been fine.”
