as he passed the bed, he saw that he had another message on his cell phone from Walker. Nash picked up the phone, those old habits so conditioned it took everything in him not to return the call.
Walker could handle whatever it was, he told himself as he tossed the phone back on the bed and proceeded to the bathroom. He knew Walker wanted his job. And soon, he would get it.
Nash realized he should have retired a long time ago. He was past his prime and clearly couldn’t trust his instincts anymore. Marrying Lucinda proved that.
As he stood in front of the toilet, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked as if he’d aged overnight.
He was fifty-five years old. Most cops his age had quit a long time ago. He had his years in. He could retire on his pension. He’d worked hard his whole life, saved all his money, never really given retirement much thought. Because he knew he would go crazy within a week.
Standing there bent over the motel-room toilet, sick and tired and hurting like hell, he admitted he didn’t know what he was going to do. Which was strange because he couldn’t shake the feeling that a decision had been made for him the moment he saw his wife get into that car with that man.
CHAPTER SIX
OFFICER D.C. WALKER didn’t have time to see his life flash before him as the wrecker’s cable shot upward directly at him.
The cable passed so close he felt the hair rise on his forearms. The steel wrapped around one of the trees behind him, snapping off leaves and limbs like the hurtin’ end of a whip, then made a loud popping sound right next to him as the end smacked the hood of the wrecker, leaving one hell of a dent before dropping to the ground as harmless as a dead snake.
Down the mountainside the Cadillac, dragging a piece of frayed broken steel cable, slid back into the lake.
Walker let out a curse as he watched the car disappear below the surface again.
When Mac, the wrecker operator, quit swearing and crossing himself, he gave Walker the bad news. Another wrecker, a newer larger one with a longer cable, would have to be called in. It might have to come from as far away as Seattle, though. That was if Mac could find a towing service that could spare a rig that size.
But one thing was for certain. The car wasn’t coming out of the water today. It was too late in the day now to get another wrecker here even if one could be found within a hundred miles.
Walker swore. “Do the best you can and let me know when you find one.” He turned, still shaken as he climbed into his patrol car and headed for the hospital. He was on his own with the chief gone. It was time he had a talk with Doc Brubaker’s patient.
POLICE CHIEF ROB NASH WOKE to darkness. He stumbled out of bed and into the ratty motel bathroom. His head hurt like hell and his stomach rumbled, the taste of alcohol in his mouth rank enough to make him want to vomit.
He glanced at his watch, shocked to see that he’d lost the entire day. Lucinda was expecting him home tonight. He swore as he turned on the shower, stripped down and stepped under the stinging water.
Lucinda. He tried to force away any thought of her. He’d never known this kind of pain, let alone such fury. It left him light-headed, sent his blood pressure soaring and made him feel as if he was shaking from the inside out. The sensation had him wondering if he wouldn’t come apart at the seams. Worse, made him fear he would follow through with his first instinct and kill Lucinda.
It was why he’d called Walker and told him he was taking a few days off. He wasn’t firing on all four cylinders and he knew it. A dangerous place, given his feeling.
But Lucinda and what he’d seen last night was like a tooth-ache that wouldn’t let him forget it. Eventually he would have to deal with it.
He’d set his wife up.
And she’d taken the bait.
That’s what a man his age got for marrying a woman too young and pretty for him, he thought as he stepped from the shower.
Just the thought of facing Lucinda with what he knew made him break into a cold sweat. He clenched his fist, slamming it into the mirror. Glass shards and blood went everywhere.
He wrapped his hand in a towel. There were only a few small cuts. He wouldn’t bleed to death.
He stared at his reflection in what was left of the mirror. Hair graying, shoulders slumped, gait shuffling and unsure. Hell, he looked just like his old man right before the poor son of a bitch blew his brains out.
ANNA DIDN’T REMEMBER DROPPING off to sleep after her call to Mary Ellen. She’d been upset and had gotten off the line, promising to call back.
Now she shot straight up in bed and reached for the call button, fumbling with it, afraid she would lose the memory that she’d dragged to the surface. When the nurse named Connie had come hurrying in, Anna asked to see the doctor.
“I’ll call him,” she said. “Eat some of your dinner while you wait.” She sounded worried. “Doc won’t be long. He only lives a couple of blocks from here.”
Anna looked over at the tray next to her bed. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She vaguely recalled a breakfast and lunch tray, but didn’t remember touching either. She hadn’t been hungry for so long.
Now, though, she felt ravenous. She dug into the food, not tasting it, but knowing she needed the nourishment. She knew that after Tyler’s death, she’d lost her will to live. There didn’t seem to be any reason to get out of bed in the mornings. No wonder Marc had felt so abandoned. No wonder he’d wanted a divorce.
Her need to remember what had happened last night was driving her not to fall back into that dark depression. Last night was like a puzzle that she needed to solve. That she could solve. Not like the alleged hit-and-run that had taken her son. The pieces to that puzzle had been lost forever.
But this accident she might be able to unravel, and she still felt as if she desperately needed to.
She was anxious to tell the doctor what she remembered. Unlike Officer Walker, the doctor seemed to believe her and want to help her remember. She didn’t need any more mysteries in her life. Any more secrets.
Her dinner was lukewarm, but she ate the roast beef and mashed potatoes and canned corn as if it was a gourmet meal from her favorite four-star restaurant. She’d downed the glass of milk after polishing off the apple crisp just before Dr. Brubaker stuck his rumpled gray head in her doorway.
She shoved the tray away. “I remember going into the lake,” she said excitedly. “I mean I remember being in the water. I remember almost everything.”
He smiled, seeming pleased as he pulled up a chair next to her bed and lowered himself into it. “That must be a huge relief to you.”
“I swerved to miss a deer and lost control of the car.” She could see it now, the darkness, the rain, the deer bolting out of the trees. Her heart began to pound as she saw the car skidding toward the small saplings in her memory, crashing down the mountainside, plunging into the lake.
Oh God, the lake. The water. She shuddered as she recalled the water.
“I
