Dark Justice(6)

“It was lovely,” Mom said. “Until we saw poor Morton.”

Harcroft gazed at her again.

He pulled a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “I need to take your information, if you don’t mind. Your names, what you saw. Won’t take long.”

Tiredness surged through me, and the chilled air scraped my skin. Where had the warmth of the day gone? “Sure. I do hope it’s quick. I’d like to get my mother home as soon as possible.”

“No problem.”

Mom shook her head at me. “I’m fine, Hannah.”

“Do you want to wait in the car, Mom? I can start the engine and turn up the heat.”

“Nothing doing.” She gave me a look that said she had to stay here and keep an eye on me.

The deputy asked our names, address, and phone numbers for home and my work. Then took down the license plate of my car. He wanted to know what we had witnessed. Did we see the crash? Any idea how it happened? I told him what we knew, which wasn’t much. Mom remained quiet. But every now and then she pinched my arm as a reminder—don’t tell.

The deputy frowned, his eyes shifting to Morton’s overturned car. My gaze followed. Not until that moment did it strike me—how strange, this accident. The car was on the side of the road we’d been driving yet was pointed in the opposite direction. Had he been going toward Highway 1 instead of away from it? And why had he wrecked in the first place? I saw no skid marks, nothing that would make him swerve. He hadn’t sounded drunk. Hadn’t smelled drunk. What had happened here?

An uneasy feeling slow-rolled through my limbs.

“Don’t tell anyone . . . Be careful.”

The deputy refocused on me. “Anything Morton told you that we should know? Maybe the name of a family member we can contact?”

“No!” Mom spoke the word with vehemence. The deputy’s eyebrows rose. He looked to me, as if for an explanation.

For a moment I hesitated. Shouldn’t I tell the deputy everything, regardless of my mother’s reaction? My sense of civilian duty said yes. The memory of Morton’s eyes cried no. He’d trusted us, total strangers. He’d warned us. What could drive a man to such desperation?

I tried to smile at the deputy. “My mother’s pretty upset about the whole thing.” I gave him a meaningful look, patting Mom’s arm.

He gazed at her again. “I understand. But I need to make sure you’ve told me everything.” The deputy locked eyes with me.

He had heard something.

“We told you everything.” Mom glared at him.

For a drawn-out second the deputy and I faced off. My neck tingled. I didn’t like the feel of any of this. Including the news camera aimed at my back.

I swallowed. “She’s right. We have.”

Harcroft’s eyes lingered on me. Then he looked at his notes. “Okay. I have what I need for now. Appreciate your cooperation. If anything comes up I’ll contact you.”

Relief snagged my breath. “All right. Thank you.”

“What happens to Morton now?” Mom asked. The wind tugged at her hat. She clamped a hand on top of it.

The deputy offered her a tiny smile. “Maybe if you call Coastside Hospital tonight they’ll be able to tell you something.”

Would the hospital do that, since we weren’t family? But the deputy seemed to be trying to reassure Mom, and for that I was grateful. My unease loosened a little.

I lowered my voice. “Is that reporter still behind us?”

His gaze flicked beyond my shoulder. “Yeah.”

“We don’t want to be on camera. We just want to get out of here.”

“That’s fine, you don’t have to talk to her. You’re free to go.”

“Thanks.” I took Mom’s arm.

She was still shivering but didn’t complain. We headed toward my car—and heard sudden huffing behind us. “Ma’am!”

I turned to see the reporter awkward-jogging in her high heels, cameraman at her side. My hand flew up, my words fast and tinged with panic. “I don’t want to talk.”

The reporter closed the distance between us. Mom’s eyes bounced from me to the reporter, uncertainty in her face. “Come on, Mom.” I nudged her on.

“Look.” The reporter caught up to my side. “Here’s my card. Amanda Crossland. If you have something later you can call me.”

I waved the card away. “No, thanks.”

Amanda fell back, and I urged Mom to the car. She allowed me to open her door and help her inside. I fastened her seat belt.

As I started the engine I glanced out my window. The deputy was watching me. I gave him a quick wave. He nodded back.

I pulled out onto Tunitas Creek Road and headed back toward Highway 1. No more adventuresome drives toward Skyline for me. I just wanted to get home. The trip would take less than thirty minutes.