Back Where She Belongs(14)

Her stomach bottomed out. She stared straight ahead, trying not to see, but her peripheral vision caught orange warning cones in front of the crushed guardrail and the flutter of a torn strip of yellow caution tape tied around a eucalyptus tree.

Her mind conjured up the accident again, this time with more detail—her sister’s shriek as she wrestled with the wheel and slammed the brakes, her father’s bellow, the crunch of metal, the snap of breaking branches, smashing glass...the car rolling and rolling, finally stopping with a sickening thud.

Panic surged inside Tara. Her vision grayed and her stomach heaved. Scared she might wreck, she gripped the wheel, slowed down and pulled to the shoulder to compose herself. When she finally felt normal, she looked out the windshield. Across the highway she saw more caution tape tied to a railing. On the highway below were bright black tire marks in parallel snakes. Was this where the accident had begun? This far back from the rail? Had her sister swerved to avoid hitting another car or an animal? There were deer in the hills, coyotes and javelina. It could have been a dog.

She got out of her car and surveyed the distance between the swerve marks and the rail. Not another mark on the highway. Surely slamming on the brakes would have left more rubber. In fact, she realized the car had to have been going pretty fast to hit the barrier hard enough to go over.

This did not make sense. Had the brakes failed? Should she go down the embankment and check the crash site? She didn’t have the nerve.

Tara took several slow breaths, forcing her stomach to settle, digging her nails into her palms to distract herself from the woozy sensation. When she felt safe to drive, she went into town.

Her first stop was Crowley’s for Faye’s pills. She pasted a smile on her face, then marched straight to the back of the store, where the pharmacy was, relieved not to hear her name called by any shoppers, thankful she didn’t recognize the pharmacist, either.

“I’m picking up for Faye Wharton. I’m her sister.”

The pharmacist’s eyebrows lifted, clearly knowing about Faye, but she hesitated for only a moment before she said, “Certainly,” and went to get the orders. There were two pills—one for anxiety and one for depression.

Tara carried them out to the car, troubled to learn her sister was so emotionally upset. How long had she been struggling? At least a month, since the orders were refills. Faye had always been even-tempered and optimistic. Happy, as her mother had pointed out. What had shaken her so much she’d sought medical help? The prescribing doctor was Eli Finch, not McAlister, so probably a psychiatrist. Locating the number among Faye’s contacts, she called it. Pretending that she wanted to cancel an upcoming appointment for her sister, Tara chatted with the receptionist, learning that Faye had seen Dr. Finch in Tucson five times, starting not long before the call she’d made to Tara. No doubt Faye would have shared a little of her troubles if Tara hadn’t been so damned oblivious, busy showing off instead of listening.

Then she had another thought: What if the medication had affected Faye’s driving? Made her sleepy or inattentive or slow to respond? That would be horrible. And when Faye woke up and learned her condition had caused the accident, she would be devastated.

Setting aside that worry, Tara drove the few blocks to the town complex and headed inside the seventies-era building. She was still reeling from seeing the accident site, but she was determined to find out what she could from Fallon.

Tara entered the complex. The police department was to the right, the utilities department and post office to the left. Down the center was a wing of glassed-in offices. She was startled to see Dylan through the glass of the second office. He was town manager, so of course that made sense. Just the sight of him cheered her, she found, eased a little of her distress.

As if he felt her eyes on him, he looked up. Tara felt that swirl of excitement and relief...that twist and sink of her stomach that she used to feel when they spotted each other. Had he sensed her presence?

He smiled, then started out of his office, but was intercepted by a woman with a file. Tara nodded and waved her hand, telling him to stick with his work. She would stop by when she’d finished with Fallon.

She headed for the police receptionist, who was flipping through a magazine. Cosmopolitan, Tara saw when she got close enough.

“I’d like to talk with Chief Fallon, if I may,” she said.

“Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist lifted her eyes reluctantly from Sixty Tricks to Unman Your Man.

Really? Was the guy that busy? Tara took a deep breath. She had to be patient. Small towns weren’t known for their efficiency.

When the receptionist saw Tara, she grinned. “Tara Wharton! Hi! Robin Walker. Reed’s little sister? Remember?”

Oh, yeah. Robin had been a chunky thirteen-year-old with braces and acne, miserable in the way only girls who’d just walked into puberty could be. “Sure.”

“You gave me this expensive makeup you said you didn’t need and made Reed apologize when he said I looked like a slut wearing it.”

“That’s right.” Tara had emptied out her cosmetics bag for the girl, who had to cope with four older brothers, including Reed, the guy who’d dumped his motorcycle the night Dylan acted as her white knight.

“I still use that brand. It’s the best zit cover-up ever.” She turned her face side to side to demonstrate.

“You look great, Robin.” She smiled. “So how about—?”

“Chief Fallon, right. He hates drop-ins. Hates them.” She studied Tara. “Tell you what. He’s pretending to prepare for a town council meeting, but he’s actually playing online poker. If I catch him, he’ll get flustered and say yes to whatever I ask.”

“I really appreciate your help.”

“It’s the least I could do. Pay it forward I always say.” She jumped up and went to tap on Fallon’s door before she entered. When she came out, she gave Tara a thumbs-up. “The chief will see you now,” she said in an official tone.

It was ridiculous to have to play games to talk to an officer of the law, but she hadn’t really expected better. She was glad to learn she’d helped Robin. Thinking about it, she realized the girl would likely tell her brother that Tara had come in to talk to the police. Word would spread and soon the whole town would know. She hadn’t thought about that. She’d always hated living in the fishbowl of Wharton.

Chief Fallon came around his desk and clasped her hand in both of his. “So sorry for your loss,” he said, holding her gaze too long, as if to impress her with the enormity of his sympathy. He was a big man with a barrel chest, gray hair in a military cut and a florid face. “How’s your mother holding up?”

“She’s doing fine,” Tara said, knowing that was the image her mother wanted to present, though Tara was worried about how much she’d been sleeping. “I know she appreciates everything you sent her. That was above and beyond the call of duty.”

She watched his face. Sure enough, the red in his face deepened to magenta. Something was up with him and her mother. She prayed it was just a harmless flirtation.

“It’s the least I could do.” He cleared his throat. “Please have a seat.” He motioned toward a chair, then sat behind his desk, sizing her up like a suspect.

“So, this has to feel strange, huh? You being in my office and not in trouble.” He gave her a self-satisfied smile. “Glad to see you cleaned up your act. Maybe those little talks we had did you some good.”

She had the urge to grab the World’s Best Cop mug on his desk and chuck it at his head, but she only smiled.

“I know your mother used to worry herself sick over you.” How long had he had a thing for her mother? Now that she thought about it, he had always patted her mother’s arm and consoled her over Tara’s screw-ups. Ick. “So what can I do for you? One of my guys give you a speeding ticket you need fixed?”

“No. No tickets.”

“You haven’t been in town long, though, have you?” He chuckled.

She supposed she deserved the dig, considering all the mischief she’d gotten into, but did he have to be such a patronizing jerk about it?

“Actually, Chief Fallon, I hoped you’d tell me a little more about what happened that night...about the accident. The sequence of events...how you came to find them—” She stopped before she said at suspiciously the right moment. She didn’t dare push too hard.

“I know what you’re after,” he said solemnly, leaning across the desk. For a second, she thought he might help her. Then he rested his elbows on the desk, hands clasped as if in prayer, a gesture that often meant, I’m holding back what you want because I know best. “You want peace of mind. But this won’t give you that.” He smiled a knowing smile. “Go home, comfort your mother, let time do its duty. That’s what you need. Believe me. I’ve seen this many, many times.”

Stay calm. Be easy. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m prepared for whatever you can tell me.” She hoped she was. She’d been afraid to look down the embankment or peek at her sister’s clothes. If the details were gruesome...