Page 64 of The Sister's Curse
He floored it on the straightaway of the bridge, and I struggled to keep up. I heard the rev of his engine, the hiss of air in my ears, and…music. He must have had the radio on…
I heard thin notes of a woman singing, a song that sounded familiar…
I reflexively slowed.
Sims accelerated ahead of me, then jerked a hard left. His car sprawled across the oncoming lane.
“What the hell?” I whispered. I didn’t see a deer or another animal that he might be trying to avoid.
The car launched through a guardrail with a shriek of metal and hurtled through space, disappearing into blackness. Something splashed like a bomb exploding below.
“Fuck.”
I parked and erupted out of my car, sprinting to the ruined guardrail.
The bridge creaked and sighed.
I stared down at headlights receding into the blackness and disappearing. I shouted into my radio for EMS and God and everyone to show up. I swept my flashlight below me, into the rushing water, waiting for Sims to bob up from the depths, but he never came up.
A melodious giggle sounded below me, and I shivered.
—
Sims didn’t emerge.
EMS, the fire department, and the sheriff’s office closed off the bridge. The fire department sent out people in boats to search forSims. They couldn’t pinpoint the site of the wreck exactly, and there was supposition that the strong current had shifted the small car. The river might have to be dredged. I sat on the bumper of my car, holding a cup of coffee, relating the story to the chief and Monica. I omitted the part about the singing.
The chief rarely came out into the field, but I understood that this was likely a political nightmare. “You didn’t touch his car?”
“No sir.”
“How fast were you going?”
“Um…fifty-five? He accelerated, though. Maybe sixty-five at the end.”
“I think he knew Leah would talk,” Monica said.
“You think suicide?” Chief asked.
“Maybe. With Koray on his tail, he might have thought the jig was up.”
“There’s no way he knew it was me,” I said. “I had lights on, so he couldn’t see my face.”
Chief’s expression was unreadable under his moustache. “There’s no going down after that wreck tonight. Go home, Koray.”
—
I did as I was told.
I took Gibby home to give him a bath. I didn’t want him getting sick from any contaminants that were in the river earlier in the day. I filled the bathtub, lured him in with his rubber-ducky squeaky toy, and lathered him up. When Gibby was done, I showered and threw my clothes into the laundry.
I focused on simple household chores, deliberately trying to dissociate from this evening’s events. I didn’t see how Sims could’ve survived that accident. I didn’t feel sorry about that, about him being dead. I did feel sorry for Leah. She was going tohave all kinds of things to work through. But at least I could guarantee that her father wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again.
I paused. Ishouldbe feeling other things. I should be sorry about the waste of life. I should be worrying that my actions contributed to Sims’s death, that I chased him to death. I should be analyzing my performance for errors, errors the Kings of Warsaw Creek would no doubt analyze with their legal team.
Now, that bothered me. I might get desked for this. I reviewed my steps in my mind. I had followed procedure. I had radioed for backup, established that Sims was in flight. There wasn’t a scratch on my car. My gun hadn’t been fired. The skid marks on the bridge showed a sharp left turn, just as I said.
There was no point in worrying about that. I had been aboveboard in my actions, even if my motives had been deeply wrathful.
