Page 116 of The Lies I Told
“That okay?” he asked.
“It is.” My voice sounded raspy. “Been a while.”
“I’m in no rush.”
I cleared my throat. “I assume you have a bed.”
“I do.”
It was after three when I woke beside Alan. My body felt liquid and boneless, and I could’ve spent the afternoon here. I was consideringround two when it suddenly occurred to me that Jenny Taylor, the nurse who’d called 9-1-1 after my car accident, might recognize David’s picture. If he’d been the man at my accident, that would be more reason for Richards’s warrant.
I kissed Alan on the lips. “Can I see you again?”
He cupped his hand on the back of my neck. “Why not stay for a while?”
I kissed him again. “I can’t. But rain check?”
“Not going to play junior detective, are you?” He held my face in place.
“Nothing crazy.”
I kissed him again, felt his hand slide to the side of my face as I reluctantly pulled away. I dressed quickly, aware he was watching. “See you soon.”
He sat up, stood, and crossed to me. “Counting on it.”
Across the hallway and then in my apartment, I grabbed my purse and coat. The police had never been able to identify the Good Samaritan who’d been at my accident, but Jenny might. I pulled up Brit’s social media page and found a picture of my sister and David. His face was partly turned while she stared boldly at the camera. Avoiding cameras seemed to be a talent he’d perfected. I took a screenshot.
I drove to my accident site, now clogged with parked cars from all the Alans and Marisas in the world who’d the good sense to stay at home and linger in bed on this cloudy Sunday afternoon.
I circled the area twice before finding a spot and then hurried back the extra half block up to Jenny’s town house. I glanced at my phone and David’s smiling face. Not the best likeness, but short of stalking him and taking his picture, it was the best I could do for now.
After hurrying up the stairs, I knocked on the front door. Music mingled with a news station and the yap-yap of a barking dog. Footstepssounded in the hallway, and whoever was inside was asking the dog to stop barking.
The door opened, and the woman standing there was freshly showered and dressed in green scrubs. She wore no makeup, and her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She was holding an old terrier, who was growling at me. “Yes?”
“I’m Marisa Stockton,” I said. “I was in the car accident by your house in January. Are you Jenny Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“I spoke to your roommate.”
“Yeah. She said you’d come by. How’s it going for you?”
“Good. I’m lucky.”
Like so many of the nurses in the hospital, she studied me as if judging my ability to focus and speak clearly. “That’s nice to hear.”
“A week’s worth of missing time and a shorter haircut, but in the grand scheme, lucky.”
“If that’s all, you’reverylucky. You hit that pole hard.”
I gripped my phone a little tighter. “Did you see the accident?”
“I’d just gotten back from walking Cody. He’s old and has to go out often.” Cody glanced up at me, and I carefully held up my hand, allowing him to sniff. “After I heard your car hit the utility pole, I put Cody back inside and hurried to the site.”
“Your roommate said there was another man on the scene.”
“Yes. He was right there. Initially, it was just me and him at the crash site.”
