Justice Delayed (Memphis Cold Case #1)(47)
Andi gathered the girl in her arms. “Oh, Chloe, I’m so sorry.”
The girl’s thin shoulders shook as she sobbed on Andi’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, gently stroking Chloe’s back.
Andi just hoped that was true.
Memphis Police Director Marcus Kennedy extended his hand to Andi. She stretched to her full five feet four inches, but Kennedy dwarfed her at six-four.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” she said as they shook hands.
“Always glad to talk to the media about getting good publicity. I like the story you’re doing on runaways. When will we see the documentary on cold cases?”
Good. He remembered giving the go-ahead on letting her have access to the cold case files. “That’s what I’m working on now. The case I ended up choosing to profile may be related to a current case, and the detective isn’t too happy about my involvement. Nothing solid there yet, but I don’t want to get booted and lose what work I’ve done.”
A grin stretched across his dark face. “Wouldn’t happen to be a case a certain Sergeant Brad Hollister is working on, would it?”
Kennedy read her well, and even though she tried to will her body not to react, heat flushed her face. “Yes, sir. It hasn’t been determined if the current case is a suicide or homicide.”
He rubbed his jaw. “We haven’t had a problem yet with you tagging along on cases, and you’ve attended the citizen police academy, right?”
“Yes, sir.” She waited, trying not to hold her breath. “I believe the positive publicity our stories generate will be great for public relations, given there’s been so many negative stories out there lately.”
Kennedy sat on the corner of his desk and propped his hand on his knee. “Great point.”
He reached behind him for a memo pad. “I’ll send an email to Brad’s boss that I’d like you to be a consultant on the case, and that should take care of it.”
Andi was glad she’d learned long ago it paid to go straight to the top. Just wait until Brad said something this time.
“Thank you.” She beamed at him. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret this.”
16
WIND FROM PASSING EIGHTEEN-WHEELERS buffeted Will as he stood at the edge of the interstate. Larry Ray Johnson’s pickup had left the right lane without a skid mark and rolled into a ravine. Will turned to Richard Lee, the state trooper standing beside him, and shouted over the traffic, “You say the truck is at a body repair shop at the next exit?”
“Yeah. King’s body shop. Take a right at the exit and it’s about a mile. You can’t miss it,” Lee said. “But if you’d like, I’ll lead the way.”
“Good deal.” Will wrote down the patrolman’s cell number, then climbed into his car with the accident report he’d given him. Cause of accident was mechanical. Bolt in the tie rod had worked loose. A note by Lee stated there appeared to be no alcohol involved.
He followed the patrolman to the body shop that was as easy to find as he’d said. They drove around the back to where the Silverado sat on a trailer. Some time in the past Johnson had raised the suspension on the pickup about four inches and replaced the original tires with mudders.
Judging from the flattened cab, the truck had rolled more than once. If Johnson hadn’t been thrown out, he probably would have died instantly. Will examined the raised suspension and the right front wheel that flopped out at a right angle.
“When that bolt came out, wasn’t no way the driver could keep it on the road,” the trooper said. “Not traveling seventy miles an hour on the interstate. Driver is mighty lucky to still be alive.”
Will agreed. He’d called an hour ago, and, according to the nurse he talked with, Johnson was still in critical condition and could not be interviewed. Will pointed to the end of the tie rod where it had separated from the steering knuckle. “Do you think raising the suspension caused this?”
“If it did, there would be wrecks happening around here all the time. Got a lot of the jacked-up trucks on the road. This one isn’t as bad as some.”
“How long will the truck be here?” Will asked.
“Till the TBI gets through with their investigation.”
“Why did you call in the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation?”
Lee nodded to the tie rod. “There was no reason for that nut to come loose, and I just felt better asking them to take a look.”
“You have my card,” Will said. “Would you give me a call when the investigator is coming? I’d like to either be here or speak to him.”
Lee pocketed the card. “Sure thing.”
Will thanked the trooper and headed back to Memphis, calling David and updating him on the way. His cell phone rang as he exited I-40 to fill up his car. Andi. “Hello, Ms. Hollister.”
“Where are you, Sergeant Kincade?”
Her tone indicated he was late, and he checked his watch. “It’s barely two forty-five. I’ve stopped just outside of Memphis to refuel. Where are you?”
“At Mom and Dad’s. Did you discover anything interesting?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I see you—at three thirty. I’ll pick you up.”