Page 29 of To Belong Together
She lay her hand on a low branch and tried to imagine it breaking through a car window, how the blood she’d seen on the windshield and airbag must’ve spilled. Thank God John hadn’t died, because he easily could’ve.
A vehicle rumbled on the road. Police might question her hanging around the accident site, but this wasn’t a private road. She was within her rights to be there, wasn’t she?
The crunching of the tires grew louder, progressing slowly.
Since she’d worked on the car, she shouldn’t be there.
She retraced her steps, but a slip halfway up the incline slowed her. She caught herself, then brushed away the snow and dirt from her hand as she hurried on. Her boot had touched down on the gravel of the shoulder when the dark SUV angled onto the shoulder and parked, as close to her car as it could get without backing up.
She’d still have to get all the way from the passenger side front bumper to the driver’s seat if she wanted to avoid a conversation, and speeding off now would make her look guiltier than she already might. She bit her lip.
At least the fact that the SUV was an import ruled out the police.
The tinted windows and the obvious interest in John’s accident could indicate the driver worked for John or the band.
Was that better or worse than the authorities?
Maybe it’d be best to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. She resumed her course as a door on the SUV clunked open.
“Wait,” a man’s voice said.
Now rounding the driver’s side of her car, she shot a look toward the SUV. All closed up on this side, so the speaker must’ve been the passenger, which meant there were at least two people in the vehicle.
She didn’t relish the idea of being outnumbered or being bullied into leaving.
She yanked open her door as the passenger rounded the back of the SUV.
“I see your jacket,” the man said. “Can we talk a minute?”
She looked down at the Hirsh Auto logo on her chest. A bigger logo adorned the back.
Busted.
At least the guy sounded more pleading than angry, and he’d stopped his advance near the center of the front of her car. Not exactly the smartest place to stand, but then again, she wasn’t behind the wheel yet.
“I have some questions.”
Was he a reporter? He wore jeans and a thick jacket. The casual clothes and his trendy haircut … well, a reporter could dress like that, but she’d guess few journalists drove such expensive vehicles.
Oh, wait.
Now that she’d stopped long enough to notice his facial features, she knew him.Ofhim, anyway.
Gannon Vaughn.
He gave a little wave as if her moment of realization had been that obvious. He offered an apologetic smile, then his famous voice said, “You were his first mechanic.”
How did he know that? From an investigation?
She peered through her window at her seat, wishing she were in it, able to escape this. Then again, she could defend herself, Hirsh Auto, and Dad’s legacy by standing her ground. “I worked on his car, but he took it somewhere else for brakes.”
Gannon nodded slowly. Suspicious? “What have you heard about the accident?”
Her stomach plunged like it would on a runaway rollercoaster. “I saw the car this morning. Someone forgot to tighten the bolt on the brakes.” Her voice sounded weak. Guilty, even to her ears.
“How do you know?” The way he crossed his arms reminded her of when a group of technicians crowded around a problem car to brainstorm solutions. “Bolts can’t come loose? A freak accident?”
“No. Even after the worst wrecks, those stay in place if they were tightened properly. His was missing completely.”
