Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(52)

She’d killed Vero? Had to kill her, she’d said. Shouldn’t have been in the park that day.

Except last Wyatt had known, Vero was the post-concussive version of an imaginary friend.

He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this evening, from Nicky’s strong reaction to the liquor store, to now this escapade. Seemed to him, her brain might be even more scrambled than she and her husband realized. But he was also beginning to wonder if somewhere in that wreckage of gray matter, new and important information was finally coming to light.

I thought Vero didn’t exist.

Then why does my husband have her picture?

Why indeed.

Having seen Nicky’s encounter with the bush, Wyatt knew enough to cut around it. Which allowed him to gain several more footsteps. This close, he could hear Nicky’s ragged breathing, choking sobs. A woman on the edge.

Had she really killed a little girl in the park? Nicole Frank, with no known criminal record, had murdered a child sometime between 10 P.M. Wednesday and 5 A.M. Thursday, then transported her body all the way out here?

But as soon as he thought it, Wyatt knew that couldn’t be the case. The searchers would have found it. The dog would’ve hit on the scent. No way Nicky had a child’s corpse in the back of her Audi. So what, then?

Nicky hit another tangle of bushes. She slowed. Tried left, then right. Just before she could make her choice, Wyatt launched a flying tackle.

“Hate this damn ravine,” he grunted as they both went down hard.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand. I have to save her.”

Kevin came crashing over, barely stopping himself before he tumbled over their fallen forms. He planted his feet for balance, then helped pull Wyatt to standing. Next they got Nicky up, positioning her between them, each of them holding an arm. They were all out of breath. And, Wyatt was surprised to see, a mere thirty feet from the accident site.

“Stop,” Wyatt ordered, keeping his attention on Nicky.

Kevin looked at him curiously, Nicky more blearily.

“No talking, no running, no crying.”

Nicky sniffled.

“You’re injured, hell, three accidents in six months and now you’re tearing down steep embankments and fleeing from police officers, which just earned you yet another knock on the skull. Stop. Breathe. Focus.”

Nicky took a deeper breath, though her chest was still heaving, and a hiccupping sound came from her throat.

“Now: Walk with us.”

Kevin followed as Wyatt led them the rest of the way to the former scene of the Audi’s last flight. Why not, if she wanted to get here so damn badly. The car was gone, of course. Now all that remained were twisted bits of plastic and metal, shreds of rubber from the tires and glass. Dozens of feet of brilliant shards, twinkling in the moonlight. And maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought the stench of scotch still laced the air.

Nicky stared at the sea of glass, mesmerized. While her breathing continued to slow, and the manic glaze finally left her face.

“Tell us about the park,” Wyatt demanded.

She glanced at him, appearing genuinely puzzled. “What park?”

Ah yes, composed Nicky versus crazed Nicky. One clammed up; the other couldn’t stop talking. The question was, which of them was actually telling them the truth? Or, perhaps more accurately, which one of them was living in the present? Because Wyatt was growing suspicious that one of the mixed-up elements in Nicole Frank’s head was time line. Today, yesterday and a long time ago were playing out with equal intensity. Meaning maybe it wasn’t so much what she was talking about, but when she was talking about that mattered.

“What do you see when you stand here?” he asked now.

She shook her head lightly. “It should be raining.”

“Like it was Wednesday night.”

“The rain was pouring down. Inside my car. On my cheeks, soaking my clothes. I could smell the rain, the mud, dug-up dirt.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to get out of the car. I had to find Vero.”

“When did she go missing?”

A pause. Aha, Wyatt thought, now they were getting somewhere.

“Vero is six years old,” Nicky whispers. “Then she’s gone. It’s a terrible thing, Sergeant, when a child disappears.”

“When did this happen, Nicky? Last year? Five years ago? When you were young?”

“A long time ago.”

Bingo, Wyatt thought. And abruptly, he felt goose bumps. A detective on a precipice. This had started with an auto accident. But he suspected it was about to get much, much worse.

“Nicole,” he prodded gently, “I want you to take a moment. Focus. Think. Do you know what happened to six-year-old Vero?”

“Vero wants to fly,” she murmured. “And then, one night she did.”


* * *



HE GAVE HER a few minutes. Watched as Nicky’s breathing continued to ease, her face regained some color, her eyes some focus. Relax, Wyatt thought. Let it all go. He wanted his witness to slow down, absorb, process. Then they’d talk.

Beside him, Kevin thrust his hands in his pockets and practiced his patience. Kevin was the Brain, absolutely the guy you wanted for stats or technical questions. But Wyatt was their resident people person. That’s what made him a good cop.