Brian shook his head slightly, forcing the thought away. “Sarah didn’t do anything wrong,” he said instead, avoiding the question. But Miles persisted. “Answer me,” he said. “What would you lie about? The dog, maybe?”
“No.”
“Missy didn’t jump in front of your car.”
“She didn’t mean to. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just happened. It was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t!”Miles boomed, wheeling around. Despite the roar of the wind from the open windows, the sound seemed to ricochet in the car. “You weren’t paying attention and you ran her down!”
“No,” Brian insisted. He was less afraid of Miles than he knew he should be. He felt calm, like an actor reciting his lines by rote. No fear. Just a sense of profound exhaustion. “It happened just like I told you.” Miles pointed his finger at Brian, halfway turned in his seat now. “You killed her and you ran!”
“No-I stopped and I looked for her. And when I found her…” Brian trailed off.
In his mind he saw Missy, lying in the ditch, her body angled wrong. Staring up at him.
Staring at nothing.
Bennie Wiggins finally found a song he wanted. The glare was intense and he sat straight in his seat just as he realized where he was on the road. He righted the van, guiding it back in his lane.
The approaching car was close now.
Miles flinched when Brian mentioned the blanket, and for the first time Brian knew that he was really listening, despite his shouts to the contrary. Brian kept talking, oblivious to Miles, oblivious to the cold.
Oblivious to the fact that Miles’s attention was focused entirely on him and not on the road.
“I should have called then, that night, after I got home. It was wrong. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to you and I’m sorry for what I did to Jonah.”
To Brian, his voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. “I didn’t know that keeping it inside was worse. It ate away at me. I know you don’t want to believe that, but it did. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat-” “I don’t care!”
Bennie Wiggins finally saw the car as he rounded a bend in the road. It was happening so fast, it almost didn’t seem real. The car was headed right at him, jumping from slow motion to full speed with terrifying inevitability. Bennie’s mind clicked into overdrive, trying frantically to process the information.
No, that couldn’t be… Why would he be driving in my lane? That doesn’t make sense… But he is driving in my lane. Doesn’t he see me? He’s got to see me… He’ll jerk the wheel and right himself.
All this happened in less than a few seconds, but in their span, Bennie knew with utter certainty that whoever was driving was going too fast to get out of the way in time.
Brian caught the reflection of the sun against the windshield of the approaching van just as it rounded the corner. He stopped talking in midsentence and his first instinct was to use his hands to brace himself for the impact. He jerked hard enough for the handcuffs to cut into his wrists as he arched his back, screaming,“Watch out!”
Miles whipped around, then immediately, instinctively, jerked the wheel hard as the cars closed in on each other. Brian tumbled to the side, and as his head slammed into the side window, he was struck by the utter absurdity of what was happening.
This had all started with him in a car on Madame Moore’s Lane.
And this was how it would end.
He braced himself for the thunderous impact that was coming.
Only it never came.
He did feel a hard thump, but it was toward the rear of the car, on his side.
The car began to slide and left the road just as Miles slammed on the brakes.
The car shot over the snow, just off the road, closing in on a speed limit sign.
Miles struggled to keep control, then felt the wheels catch at the last moment.
The car swerved again and jerked suddenly, coming to a halt in a ditch. Brian landed on the floor, dazed and confused, crumpled between the seats; it took a moment for him to orient himself. He gasped for air, as if surfacing from the bottom of a pool. He didn’t feel the cuts on his wrist. Nor did he see the blood that had been smeared against the window.
Chapter 34
Are you okay?”
Sounds were fading in and out, and Brian groaned. He was struggling to get off the floor of the car, his arms still manacled behind his back. Miles pushed open the door, then opened Brian’s. Cautiously he pulled Brian out and helped him to his feet. The side of Brian’s head was matted with blood that was also dripping down his cheek. Brian tried to stand on his own but staggered, and Miles took his arm again.
“Hold on-your head’s bleeding. You sure you’re okay?” Brian swayed a little as the world around them moved in circles. It took a moment for him to understand the question. In the distance, Miles could see the driver of the van climbing out of his vehicle.
“Yeah… I think so. My head hurts…”
Miles kept his hand on Brian’s arm as he glanced up the road again. The driver of the van-an elderly man-was crossing the road now, coming toward them. Miles bent Brian forward and gently checked the wound, then stood Brian up again, looking relieved. Despite Brian’s dizziness, the expression on Miles’s face struck him as preposterous, considering the last half hour. “It doesn’t look deep. Just a surface cut,” Miles said. Then, holding up a couple of fingers, he asked, “How many?”
Brian squinted, concentrating as they came into focus. “Two.”
Miles tried again. “Now how many?”
Same routine. “Four.”
“How’s the rest of your vision? Any spots? Black around the edges?”
Brian shook his head gingerly, his eyes halfway closed.
“Broken bones? Your arms okay? Your legs?”
Brian took a moment, testing out his limbs, still having trouble keeping his balance. As he rolled his shoulders, he winced. “My wrist hurts.” “Hold on a second.” Miles pulled the keys from his pocket and removed the handcuffs. One of Brian’s hands went immediately to his head. One wrist felt bruised and achy, the other seemed stiff to the point of immobility. With his hand on the wound, blood seeped between his fingers. “Can you stand on your own?” Miles asked.
Brian knew he was still swaying slightly, but he nodded and Miles went to his door again. On the floor was a T-shirt that Jonah had left in the car, and Miles grabbed it. He brought it back and pressed it against the gash in Brian’s head. “Can you hold this?”
Brian nodded and took it just as the driver, looking pale and scared, came huffing up.
“Are you guys okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Miles answered automatically.
The driver, still shaken up, turned from Miles to Brian. He saw the blood trickling down Brian’s cheek, and his mouth contorted. “He’s bleeding pretty bad.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Miles offered.
“Don’t you think he needs an ambulance? Maybe I should call-” “It’s all right,” Miles said, cutting him off. “I’m with the sheriff’s department. I’ve checked it out and he’ll be fine.”
Brian felt like a bystander, despite the pain in his wrists and head. “You’re a sheriff?” The other driver took a step back and glanced toward Brian for support. “He was over the line. It wasn’t my fault…” Miles held up his hands. “Listen…”
The driver’s eyes locked on the handcuffs Miles still held and his eyes widened. “I tried to get out of the way, but you were in my lane,” he said, suddenly defensive.