Chương 14
I did not recognize him.
Jared moved behind me.
"That's her."
"I know."
Claire pointed.
"What's the date?"
Martin answered through the speaker.
"April eighth."
Four days before the accident.
"What restaurant?"
"Bellamy's."
Jared frowned.
"Downtown?"
"Yes."
"Mom hates that place."
Claire looked at him.
"That matters how?"
"It doesn't."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Sorry."
I understood him.
The brain kept catching on stupid details because the large ones were impossible to hold.
Mom hated Bellamy's because their coffee was "burned mud."
She had said it at least twenty times.
Now that ridiculous opinion sat beside a photograph that might matter.
"What did Johnny do after that?"
I asked.
"He came to me the next day."
"And then?"
"I told him to stop investigating on his own."
"Did he?"
Martin hesitated.
"No."
Of course he didn't.
I almost smiled.
Then I remembered the date.
"What did he do?"
"He wanted to identify the investigator."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
"Who was it?"
"Daniel Mercer."
Claire typed the name into her phone.
Martin continued.
"Former police detective."
"Private investigator now?"
"Yes."
"Did Johnny contact him?"
"I told him not to."
"That wasn't my question."
Another pause.
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"The morning of April tenth."
"What happened?"
"Mercer refused to discuss the client."
"Then?"
"Johnny told him he believed Mercer had been hired to obtain information about him."
"Was that true?"
"Mercer didn't confirm it."
"What did he say?"
"According to Johnny, he said, 'If you've got a family problem, solve it with your family.'"
Jared looked up sharply.
"That's specific."
Claire nodded.
"Too specific."
I felt cold.
"Did Johnny record the call?"
"No."
"How do we know Mercer said it?"
"Only because Johnny told me."
I hated the answer.
Everything important seemed to exist one step away from proof.
"Can you contact Mercer?"
Martin said, "Through counsel, yes."
"You are counsel."
"Not officially yours yet."
"You can be."
That earned the smallest pause.
"All right."
Claire looked at me.
I ignored her.
Martin said, "I'll send an engagement agreement electronically."
"Send it."
"Naomi, I need you to understand that once I formally represent you, I may tell you not to do things you badly want to do."
"Everyone seems excited about that job."
Jared let out a surprised laugh.
Even Martin laughed once.
It vanished quickly.
"First instruction," he said.
"Do not confront Daniel Mercer."
"Fine."
"Second, do not confront Susan about the photograph."
"Fine."
"Third, do not assume the accident is connected."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"I know."
"Say it like you mean it."
I looked at Gemma's backpack.
"The accident was investigated."
"Yes."
"The other driver survived."
"Yes."
"He crossed the center line."
"That's what the police report says."
"Because he was distracted."
"That was the preliminary finding."
I frowned.
"Preliminary?"
Martin went quiet.
My skin prickled.
"What do you mean preliminary?"
"I don't have the final report."
"Why not?"
"Because Johnny's death wasn't part of my representation at the time."
I stood.
"The officer told me the driver admitted looking down at his GPS."
"Then that may be exactly what happened."
"But you said preliminary."
"Naomi, every investigation has preliminary information before final reports."
I forced myself to breathe.
Claire touched my arm.
Martin continued.
"We cannot turn ordinary procedural language into evidence of murder."
The word struck the room like a dropped plate.
Jared flinched.
I stared at the phone.
"I didn't say murder."
"No."
His voice softened.
"But we're all thinking around it."
No one answered.
He was right.
That was the worst part.
I sat again.
"What was the driver's name?"
Claire asked.
I looked at her.
She had attended every meeting with police because I had barely been able to remember my own address.
"Eric Donnelly."
She nodded.
"Forty-two."
"Do you remember everything?"
"No."
Her jaw tightened.
"Just the things I wish I didn't."
Martin asked, "Do you have the report?"
"Upstairs somewhere."
Claire stood.
"I know where."
I started to tell her not to.
Then stopped.
She disappeared toward the stairs.
Jared remained beside the window.
He looked as though ten years had passed since he knocked on my door asking for money.
"Did you know Mom hired private investigators before?"
I asked.
He shook his head.
"Not like this."
"Not like what?"
He hesitated.
"She had somebody check out a woman I was dating once."
I stared at him.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"Why?"
"She thought Vanessa was after money."
Claire's voice floated from the stairs.
"How beautifully ironic."
Jared grimaced.
"Yeah."
"What did Mom find?"
"Nothing."
"Then what happened?"
"I broke up with Vanessa."
"Because of the investigator?"
"No."
He looked embarrassed.
"Because Mom kept telling me Vanessa was using me."
"Was she?"
"Probably not."
I stared at him.
"And you believed Mom anyway."
"At the time."
He turned toward the window.
"That's kind of the recurring theme, isn't it?"
Claire returned carrying a large brown envelope.
The police department seal was printed in the corner.
My stomach turned when I saw it.
I had signed for that envelope two days after the accident and shoved it into a desk drawer unopened.
Claire set it on the table.
"You don't have to do this now."
"Yes, I do."
"No."
I looked at her.
She held my gaze.
"Not because you're weak."
"I didn't say that."
"I'm saying you're allowed to wait until your lawyer is here."
"I don't want to wait."
"That isn't the same as needing to do it."
Jared quietly stepped away from the table.
For once, he understood when not to insert himself.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were forms.
A crash diagram.
Witness summaries.
Insurance information.
Photographs printed on ordinary paper.
I flipped them facedown.
I could not look at the car.
Not yet.
Claire sat beside me.
We found the preliminary report.
Eric Donnelly had been driving a delivery truck southbound.
Johnny had been northbound.
May you like
Donnelly crossed the center line on a gradual curve.
He reported looking down at his navigation display after missing a turn.
