She Can Hide (She Can #4)(18)

He went into the living room and switched on the TV. The extent of her injuries wasn’t the only thing Abby wasn’t sharing. Derek checked the locks on the front and back doors, then each window on the first floor. Satisfied the house was as secure as possible, he settled on the sofa. He turned the volume down low.

Zeus stretched out on the floor next to the couch. Derek flipped channels until he found an action movie. He settled in to keep watch.





CHAPTER SEVEN

The late-morning sun was thin and weak as Ethan pulled up to the garage where Abby’s car was impounded. Parking next to the chief’s SUV, Ethan grabbed a cardboard box from the backseat of his patrol car and went inside. Chief O’Connell was walking around Abby’s Subaru. The vehicle hadn’t been submerged long, but mud, scratches, and small dents coated its exterior.

The chief stopped and snapped pictures from every angle. Wind whipped through the wide-open garage door. Ethan turned his collar up against it and tugged his cap down lower on his forehead. Inside the metal and concrete building, the temperature felt colder than outside. Since yesterday’s polar plunge, he couldn’t get warm.

“No major dents to indicate she hit a deer or other animal.” Chief O’Connell circled the waterlogged Subaru. He took a photo of the front bumper. “Most of the damage is from river rocks.”

“I checked her phone records. No texts or calls at the time of her accident. She could have swerved to avoid an animal,” Ethan suggested. “The ice on the road could account for lack of skid marks.”

The chief sent him an assessing glance. “It’s possible, but I wish she remembered.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ethan brought the chief up to speed on Abby’s case. “I’m coming up empty so far. No one saw her yesterday after school.”

“I don’t like it.” The chief bent low, turned the camera, and snapped a close-up of the Subaru’s tire.

Ethan opened the driver’s side door with a latex-gloved hand and stuck his upper body inside. Jammed under the dashboard was a black leather woman’s purse. He grabbed it by the shoulder strap. He set it in the box he’d placed on the cement floor. “Wonder what’s salvageable in here.”

The chief moved to the back of the vehicle. “Pop the trunk.”

Ethan pulled a tarp from his box and draped it over the driver’s seat. He leaned across the vehicle and opened the glove compartment. The trunk released with a push of the button. He emptied the glove compartment item by item. A black vinyl envelope contained the vehicle’s documents and owner’s manual. Crammed beneath it were a tire pressure gauge, a flashlight, and a silver emergency blanket. The center console held another assortment of innocuous items: a small container of hand sanitizer, a soggy travel pack of tissues, an MP3 player the size of a stick of gum, and a tube of cherry lip balm. He blinked at the immediate mental image of Abby’s lips, and before he could stop his brain, he was wondering if they tasted like cherry.

Shaking off the image, he sifted through the items again. No receipts.

“Anything?” The chief opened the passenger door and stuck his head into the car.

“Nothing.” Ethan’s foot struck an item on the floor. He reached down and picked up a bottle of sports drink, half full of orange liquid.

“Did you get the results of her blood alcohol test yet?”

“She was completely clean.” Ethan stared at the dashboard. Seemed far away. He reached a foot toward the gas pedal. “Check out the position of the seat. I have to stretch for the pedals.”

“How tall is Ms. Foster?”

“Five-foot-six.”

The chief rounded the car and squatted next to the open door. “Maybe she put the seat back when she was trying to get out?”

“Possible but unlikely. I’ll ask her.” Ethan was thinking about Abby’s memory gap. No doubt the chief was too.

“It’s probably nothing.” O’Connell stared at the orange liquid. “But let’s get that tested.”

Ethan extended his foot and touched the brake pedal with the toe of his boot. There was no way Abby could’ve driven her car with the seat in that position. The chief handed him an evidence bag. Ethan slid the bottle of sports drink inside and sealed the top. He climbed out of the car.

A mechanic in winter coveralls and a watch cap came out of the tiny corner office and walked across the garage. “Do you want me to do anything with the car?”

Ethan glanced at the chief. “Not yet. Can you just ignore it for now?”

The mechanic stamped his boots on the cold concrete and shoved greasy hands into his front pockets. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Ethan closed the door of Abby’s sedan. It had to be an accident. Why would anyone want to hurt a schoolteacher?




Krista eyed the clear bottle Joe pulled from a narrow paper bag. Guilt twisted her insides. She shouldn’t be doing this. She’d broken her promise to Derek—again. The beer had been bad enough, but at least it took some time and effort to get wasted on it. Empty bottles lined the counter like schoolkids in a fire drill. What was wrong with her? Other single mothers managed. They didn’t wallow in self-pity. Derek should be enough motivation to get up in the morning. Unfortunately, he wasn’t, but if it weren’t for her son, she’d probably have called it quits years ago.