Page 59 of Nowhere to Hide
“My father had…” Edward’s eyes rolled back, and Ryan slapped his cheek. “He had secrets,” Edward blurted out.
“You still said nothing all these years.”
“What was I supposed to do? Turn on my own father?” Edward drilled him with a glare.
“Yes, Edward, that’s exactly what you should have done.” Ryan stepped back, head spinning.Drink the coffee…He gulped some back, burned his tongue, and cried out. But he needed his head to be clear again. Sober. He blew on it and drank more coffee. After he’d drained half the mug, he said to Edward, “Did you know about me, or that he killed my mother?”
Edward slowly shook his head.
“I don’t believe you!” he roared. “How could you not have known? He’s a murderer! Your father caused my mother’s death. He even tried to kill me!” He thrust his hand with the mug against his chest for emphasis and screeched when some of the hot brew splashed over the rim and soaked through his shirt.
“No, you have it all wrong.”
“But he did, Edward. He did,” Ryan said in a singsong voice, then took a tentative sip of the coffee.
Edward glanced at his wife, a look that Ryan didn’t miss. A message passing between spouses, cutting him out.
Shunned, ignored, rejected… The story of my life.“Talk to me now!”
“You keep telling us how horrible Timothy was, how horrible we are,” the woman blurted out. “But you seem to forget if what you’ve said is true, his blood also flows through your veins.”
He hadn’t forgotten that for one hot second. It made him sick. “I’m nothing like him!” He pulled the trigger, not even caring where the bullet ended up.
THIRTY-TWO
3:45 PM
Eric walked away from Peter Carmichael knowing in his heart there was far more to Susan’s accident than it seemed. Timothy had paid someone to target Susan and bribed Dean Finley and Todd Levine to cover it up.
Eric drove from the Carmichael estate to where Susan Crawford had lived with Ryan thirty-three years ago. He’d visit the scene of the accident if he thought it would tell him anything. But after all this time, good luck. This made him think of the fast destruction order for Susan’s car. It must have held incriminating evidence. So had something been done to the vehicle to make it veer off the road? Perhaps the brakes were sabotaged.
He pulled up to Susan’s building and noted it had an underground parking garage. He didn’t bother stopping to get out for a look around. Even thirty-three years ago, the place would have had video surveillance. More than that, the doors were down, and a metal sign was posted on the wall.
Must have a key to raise the door.
That additional safety measure might not have been there over three decades ago, but still. The saboteur would be taking a risk. But if the car wasn’t tampered with here, then where?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to rebuild Susan’s day, but based on the time of the accident, Eric surmised she had picked up Ryan from school not long before. If the vehicle was compromised at her home, the brakes would have failed before she reached her son. The same applied if she had left from work. But all of this speculation wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to revisit the eyewitnesses, see what they might have to say. After all, so much of this investigation was messed with. Had their statements been tampered with, modified to suit a fabricated narrative? It was a thought that occurred to him now and sent chills through him. And even if they had, would these people remember the accident all these years later?
Eric drove to the house of the first one on the list and got shot down. Same for the second one. Both eyewitnesses told him the same thing. It was a long time ago, and he’d be best to consult whatever notes the officer had made at the time. His hopes weren’t high that eyewitness number three would tell him anything different.
He knocked on Selma Hatfield’s front door. No answer. He tried again, and a petite woman responded.
“Selma Hatfield?” Eric asked while holding up his badge.
“That’s me.” Her eyes narrowed, cautious and curious.
“Detective Birch. I have some questions about an accident you witnessed thirty-three years ago.” Getting right to the point would alleviate her concerns he was there for another dark purpose such as a death notification.
“That was a long time ago. The MPD is just looking into that now?”
Eric took promise in that response. He might have been too quick to assume this would be another wasted trip. “The case has been reopened, ma’am. The accident involved a woman and her five-year-old son.” He added this tidbit, though he had a feeling it wasn’t necessary to spark her memory.
Selma licked her lips and stepped back. “Yes, well, please, come in. Would you like a tea or coffee?”
Eric entered the house and wiped his shoes. “Coffee would be nice. Thank you.” He had a good feeling that talking to Selma would be worth the time.
“Uh-huh.” Selma took off toward the back of the house and called out, “Just make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
