Page 132 of Distress Signal
“Was he local?” Lane asked me.
“I don’t know that either.”
“How about the morning after? Did you have to pick her up?”
Jolting upright, I stared wide-eyed at Lane.
“He dropped her off.”
Sitting back against the couch, I pulled my knees to my chest and allowed my eyes to flutter closed again, squeezing them tightly shut, as though that would make my memory clearer.
“He drove a truck.”
“The same one that ran you off the road?”
I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t be certain. “Maybe?” It sounded more like a question than an answer. My eyes popped open again. “I remember a dark color. Black, maybe brown, maybe navy?”
“I don’t suppose you got a plate.” I glared. “Try,” he prodded.
Eyes fluttering closed again, I focused my mind’s eye on that truck. On the glow of its taillights, bright in the fresh dawn of anew day. The roads were deserted, and he’d pulled away so fast, kicking up dust from the motel lot.
“E,” I gasped. “But that’s it.”
“That’s amazing, Reagan. Truly.”
“Thanks.” I beamed, pleased by a job well done.
Lane didn’t look at me; his attention was focused wholly on scratching furtive notes in his spiral-bound pad. When he finished, he got to his feet, closing his notebook and stuffing it into the pocket of his uniform shirt. “Well, I think that’s everything. I’ll pass this new info onto Addie and start running down some leads myself.”
“Keep us posted,” Aspen said.
Lane tipped an imaginary hat and left.
“I suppose I should head out too,” she said when he’d gone.
“You should stay. Crew is on shift, right?”
“Yeah, and I do hate being in that house alone. Especially now, with this stalker on the loose.”
“Stay for dinner.” I checked my watch. “Finn will be home any minute.”
“You sure?”
“Of course,” I insisted.
“Okay, fine. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You let me cook,” she said, glancing pointedly at my casted arm.
I laughed. “Deal.”
While she moved around our kitchen with the ease of someone who had likely done so before, we chatted about my sister’s case and the upcoming wedding. When Finn arrived home, we had a full spread of spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad on the table.
Over the food and a few glasses of wine, Aspen and I shared all of the new info with Finn. After that, conversation flowed easily until we realized how late it had gotten. Not wanting totake any chances with her safety, we convinced Aspen to stay in the guest room.
Once she was settled, Finn and I went through our own nighttime routines and got into bed ourselves, him drawing me tight against his chest and falling asleep almost instantly.
