Page 94 of Justice Delayed

He didn’t answer, his shoulders a tense outline in his dress shirt. Ruby aligned herself with him to follow the direction of his gaze. Men and women swarmed over their backyard using long poles to poke into shrubbery, while two women walked behind leashed dogs that sniffed the ground. One dog promptly sat beside her prized rose bushes. The ones her husband had planted in the days after Jesse had disappeared.

* * *

Brogan grittedhis teeth as the surgeon drew the needle through a laceration in his forearm. Even though the woman had swabbed the area with numbing gel, he still felt the tug of the thread. He’d already been checked over thoroughly and pronounced ready for release once this cut had been stitched. A butterfly bandage closed a cut on his forehead, and other than bruising on his shoulder and hips from the seatbelt, he had come through the accident relatively unscathed.

His questions about Melender had been fruitless beyond the fact that she was somewhere in this hospital. Once the surgeon finished her handiwork, Brogan would roam the hallways until he found her.

“All done.” The doctor tied off the suture and stepped away to allow a nurse to bandage the arm. “Keep the dressing on until tomorrow, then change it every day. The nurse will send home instructions with you.” She peered closely at Brogan’s face. “And some prescription strength ibuprofen for the pain.”

“Thanks.” Brogan stifled the urge to leap off the bed and find Melender.

With a wave, the surgeon departed the cubicle, swishing the curtain back into place. The fabric hadn’t stopped swinging when someone pushed it open again.

“May we come in?” Detective Livingston, followed by a man in a suit Brogan didn’t recognize, entered the cubicle. “You don’t look so hot.”

Brogan grimaced. “Being rammed by a SUV into oncoming traffic can do that to a person.”

“I heard about your accident.” The other man held up a hand as if to stave off questions Brogan would ask. “Melender’s fine. She has some lacerations and bruising, but she’s being cleared for release.”

“Thank God.” Brogan sincerely meant what might sound trite.

“But I didn’t come to the hospital just to see how you’re doing.” The detective remained quiet as the nurse tied off the bandage.

“I’ll be right back with the ibuprofen, instructions, and discharge papers,” she said.

Once she had gone, Livingston gestured to the man beside him. “This is Detective Tom Billets. He’s in charge of investigating the accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Brogan flashed back to the deliberate actions of the other driver and suppressed a shudder. “We could have been killed. The other driver was trying to make us crash.”

“We know,” Billets said. “The other driver fled the scene, but we recovered his cell phone, which had texts between the driver and someone else directing the driver to make sure you had an accident after leaving Stabe’s office.”

The folder. “Did you recover an accordion folder from my vehicle?” Brogan had a sinking feeling what the answer would be.

Billets frowned. “No, there was nothing like that in the vehicle, but we might have missed it, as we weren’t conducting a thorough search. I’ll call the impound lot and have the guys there go through the SUV again. Can you describe the item?”

“It’s about yea big”—Brogan demonstrated with his hands, wincing as the gesture pulled at his fresh stitches—“so it’s not likely you missed it.” Frustration tightened around him like a vice. “Then there was someone else there, someone who followed the driver and managed to get the folder from our car before help arrived.”

Billets flipped through a small notebook. “A couple of witnesses said a man had been examining your vehicle immediately after the accident, but they thought he was trying to help you and Ms. Harman.”

Livingston’s eyebrows rose. “What was in the folder?”

“I’m not sure.” His focus slipped as a pounding headache galloped into place. “Stabe called to tell me he had a package at the front desk of his law firm. He wanted me to pick it up right away.”

The nurse whisked back the curtain. “Here you go.”

Brogan took the paper cup the nurse held out, then took a sip of water from the cup on the bedside tray table.

“These instructions outline how to care for your arm wound and when to seek additional medical help.” She handed him the papers.

“Thank you.” He signed the discharge papers and returned them, keeping the copy for himself.

“You’re all set to go.” She gave him a cheery smile, then departed.

The two detectives, who had been carrying on a muted conversation during the nurse’s visit, stepped toward the bed. Billets spoke first. “I think that about wraps it up on my end. We’ll be in touch, although I don’t hold out much hope. The other vehicle was reported stolen this morning.”

Brogan wasn’t surprised. “Thanks for stopping by.” He eased himself off the bed as Billets exited the cubicle while Livingston lingered. “I thought you were on leave.”

“Circumstances required my return.”

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