Missing Pieces(71)
“A truck just ran me off the road,” Sarah said as she picked her way through the corn, trying to follow the path created by the car. “I’m okay, though. Just stay on the line with me until the police arrive.”
Though it seemed that she had traveled much farther, the road was only about a hundred yards from where the car was stranded. Sandpaper-rough stalks of corn brushed against her arms, her high heels sinking into the earth. Sarah thought of the two hunters she met on the gravel road. Had they somehow tracked her down and been the ones to send her into the cornfield? Sarah held her sore right arm close to her body as she tripped through the tall grass that ran along the side of the highway. By the time she reached the asphalt, she was breathing heavily and sweating despite the chill in the air.
With the sprawling fields behind her and the wide-open road in front of her, Sarah felt too exposed. She stepped back into the shadows of the field, afraid that whoever was driving the truck might come back, but fearful of what might be lurking in the shadows of the corn.
Gabe maintained a steady stream of chatter, trying to calm her nerves, but Sarah could only respond briefly, her attention drawn to each rustle of leaves, to every movement caught in the corner of her eye. It was with relief when fifteen minutes later she saw the flashing lights of a sheriff’s car approaching.
The deputy pulled up to the side of the road, stepped from his vehicle and approached Sarah cautiously. He was heavyset and middle-aged and he walked toward her sluggishly, as if dragging his own weight. “He’s here, Gabe. I’ll call you later,” Sarah said, and then hung up.
“Are you the one who called in the accident?” the deputy asked.
“Yes, thank God you’re here. Someone ran me off the road,” Sarah said frantically. “They came out of nowhere. My car’s down there.” He shone his flashlight in the direction that Sarah was pointing, illuminating the flattened corn that disappeared into the darkness.
“Are you okay? Are you sure you don’t need an ambulance?”
Sarah rotated her shoulder; it ached, but she didn’t think anything was broken or torn. “No, I’m fine, but I think someone did this to me on purpose.”
“Why don’t you take a seat in here,” the deputy invited, walking her back to his car and opening the back door, “get you warmed up.”
She gave her statement to the deputy, though she didn’t have much to offer. She couldn’t give him a description of the vehicle that had run her off the road, except that it was probably a pickup truck, and couldn’t describe the driver. “Uh-huh,” the deputy said in a way that Sarah was sure meant that he didn’t quite believe her version of events.
“Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?” he asked.
“No, not at all. I just came from a wake,” Sarah insisted.
“Do you have any idea who would want to run you off the road?” he asked, looking down at her over the top of his glasses.
Sarah thought about telling him the truth. That she had been secretly investigating the murder of her mother-in-law and had found a connection, thin as it might be, between that murder and the death of Julia Quinlan. And now someone had just tried to kill her. The deputy would think she was out of her mind. No, she needed to wrap her head around all of it before she dared to utter her suspicions out loud to someone besides Margaret or Gabe.
The deputy looked at her expectantly.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know who would do this.”
“Maybe just some kids out joyriding or someone who had one too many drinks tonight,” the deputy said congenially. “But without a description of the truck or a license plate number, it will be pretty tough to find them. How far back do you think your car is?” he asked, nodding toward the field.
“Not far,” Sarah said. She needed to call someone. If the deputy couldn’t retrieve the car, someone would probably need to come get her. Jack came to mind first. Funny, she thought, even with all the suspicions and distrust, he was still the first person she thought of calling in an emergency. “Can I call my husband?” Sarah asked. “He’ll be worried that I’m not back yet.”
“Go right ahead. You stay here and I’ll go see if I can drive your car out. Hopefully we won’t need a tow truck.” Sarah handed the deputy her car keys and he shut the door, locking her in the back of his car.
Sarah watched as the deputy was swallowed up into the cornfield. A fist of anxiety planted itself firmly in her chest. What if whoever ran her off the road was still nearby? What if the deputy didn’t come back out? She made three attempts at reaching Jack with no luck. In frustration she left him a message. “Jack, please call me. I’ve been in an accident. I’m fine. I’m not hurt, but I need you to call me. Please, it’s urgent.”
Relief poured through her when the deputy finally emerged from the field and managed to maneuver her car through the ditch and back up onto the road. He stepped from the vehicle, circled the car, examining it for damage, and snapped a few pictures using a digital camera that he pulled from his car.
He opened the car door, releasing Sarah from the confines of the backseat, and handed her the keys. “Looks like you got quite a bit of damage to your back bumper, but it drives just fine. I doubt there was much if any damage to the truck that did this to you, though. I’ll call the farmer whose field this belongs to, let him know that a few ears of corn won’t make it to harvest.”