Page 41 of Duress
Hugh’s bushy eyebrows creep up in interest. “Sure, kid. This mind is a steel trap. I remember everything.” He taps his temple, a serious, no-nonsense expression on his face.
I believe him. I’ve heard him recount arrests from early in his career nearly twenty years ago with a surprising amount of detail.
“My dad died in a car accident off of Route 19 in the summer of 2009. Went off the road and head first into a tree. Died on the scene. Were you one of the responding officers?” I pull on every ounce of training I have for delivering bad news to next of kin. I keep my voice even,expression flat. I don’t want him to think I think he did something wrong when investigating and put him on the defensive.
Hugh leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. His expression goes soft as he realizes what I’m asking about. His face turns thoughtful, and I can see him searching his memory bank, recalling that night, getting the facts in order before responding.
“Yeah, I was there. O’Malley and I got the call. It was the only one we worked that night. Someone called in when they drove by and saw the old fence line broken. It had rained that night, so they thought maybe someone lost control going round the curve. I think his name was Smith?”
“Were they there when you got to the scene?” I lean forward too, resting my elbows on my knees, eager to hear more.
“Nah, they were long gone by the time we got there. I thought it was weird they wouldn’t stick around to see if someone needed help. When O’Malley and I got there, we went down the embankment and found an truck smashed headfirst into an oak tree. Front end crumpled like a soda can. Must’ve been going way too fast around that give and went into a skid.” He makes a face when he realizes he’s talking to the victim’s son. “Sorry, I?—”
Shaking my head, I wave him off. “It’s fine. Listen, do you remember anything else unusual about the scene? Anything that didn’t add up or that made your spidey-sense tingle? Anything that indicated itwasn’tan accident?”
Hugh’s brows furrow as he considers my question. I cantell he’s mulling it over, going through all the facts in his head, before he responds. He knows I’m not asking just for curiosity’s sake.
“Other than the lack of skid marks on the road and the missing good Samaritan who called it in?”
“There weren’t any skid marks?”
“Nope. Not one. I looked myself that night and checked again when the sun came up. It was like he drove off that embankment on purpose. I thought maybe it was…” He trails off, not wanting to finish that sentence in respect for me.
A slick, nauseous feeling roils in my gut. My dad would not have killed himself. He and Mom were so happy. They had been planning a trip to Puerto Rico for their anniversary in October. Aside from Bryce being a dick to Dad and me, our lives were great. There is no fucking way Dad would’ve driven into that tree on purpose. So…who did?
Then it hits me. The memory of the last time I saw my dad alive. He had dropped me off to go to the game with Jason. He took me instead of Mom because he said he had to go see Bryce anyway.
Bryce was the last person to see him alive.
“Hey, kid, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Hugh’s gruff voice pulls me from the memory, and I know he can see the shock written all over my face.
“I found… I found the medical examiner’s report for my dad when I was…looking through some stuff,” I hedge, not willing to tip him off that I was hunting through Bryce’s files in case Bryce paid Hugh off to help forge the police report. “The medical examiner said dad had a crush injury to the back of his skull. Does that make any sense based on how he was at the scene of the accident? Was his—” I pause, choking back the pain from discussing my own dad’s death so plainly. “Was he thrown from the car?”
Hugh shakes his head immediately. “No. He was buckled in. Driver’s seat. Slumped toward the passenger seat, but definitely mostly in place. Air bag deployed. Both actually, even though there wasn’t anyone in the passenger seat.” Hugh’s brows furrow in confusion as he considers that fact. “What kind of car did your dad drive? Was it new or older?”
“It was new. I remember he bought it just a few months before he died. Why?”
“Newer cars, after 2007, were designed so the passenger airbag shouldn’t deploy if no passenger is detected in the seat. Shit. I should’ve noticed that.”
My blood runs cold at Hugh’s words.
My dad wasn’t alone in the car the night he died.
And I think I know who was with him.
CHAPTER 38
EVERLY
When I wake up, bright morning light streams in through the partially open curtains, casting a golden glow in the bedroom. As I blink my eyes open, exhaustion keeps my limbs heavy and pinned to the bed. Groggy and disoriented, I stretch my body, trying to remember what decade it is. I was having the most blissful dream about Dane doing the most obscene and filthy things to my body. Why am I even awake? I was sleeping the sleep of a well-fucked woman, and my brain hasn’t come back online. I let one arm drift to the middle of the bed, searching for Dane, but my fingers only find cold sheets.
There is a loud buzz as my phone vibrates with an incoming call, causing it to clatter against the hard wood of the nightstand. Dane’s name is on the screen, and I sit up, suddenly feeling very awake. Cool air caresses my skin as the comforter falls away, reminding me I must have fallen asleep naked after Dane and I fucked in my marriage bed.Guilt prickles up my spine uncomfortably as I add to my tally of the unforgivable sins I’ve committed.
Cover for husband when he murders his stepdad? Check.
Lie about it for a decade so don’t have to face the fact that you’re married to a killer? Check.
Cheat on said husband with his brother, who also happens to be the murder victim’s son? Check.
