Page 90 of Steadfast
“Thanks.”
The waitress delivered our food, and Denny tucked in. “Aren’t you going to tell me why you need a PI?” He asked between bites.
“I’m not sure I do,” I hedged. “But I’ve been reading the police file from the accident.”
“Wait. The one from…” Denny didn’t quite finish the sentence.
“Yes,thataccident. There are some things that seem weird to me about it.”
Denny sat back in his chair. “What good does it do to go there?”
That was a perfectly good question, and one that Jude had already asked. Gavin was gone, and Jude had done his time.
But I couldn’t shake the idea that everyone was holding out on me, and I couldn’t stand it. “I feel disloyal all the time,” I admitted. “I still love Jude. And I’m not trying to prove that he’s innocent or anything. But I can’t figure out why he and Gavin were together that night. My brother was an ass to Jude every chance he got, always trying to put him down…”
I trailed off as I thought about this. You’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead. But Gavin had called Jude every kind of name. Depending on his mood, Jude was trailer trash or a loser. Or both. And once he’d called Jude a junkie and I went ballistic. It had been spring break of my freshman year in college, which would have been less than a month before Gavin died.
A chill snaked up my neck just remembering it. At the time I’d been so angry, because I’d suspected Jude took some drugs, but I’d prayed it wasn’t a real problem.
Had Gavinknownabout the drugs?How?
“You could just ask Jude what happened,” Denny said, taking another bite.
“He won’t say much about it. And we’re not, uh, exactly on cozy terms right now.”
Chewing, Denny raised an eyebrow. I guessed he meant to make some kind of point about Jude’s contribution to the shit show that was my life, but I wasn’t going to take the bait.
“I just want toknow, Den. There’s a scribble in the file about a tox screen for my brother. But the results don’t turn up. Why would there be a tox screen for him? Maybe Jude wasn’t the only one with the drug problem. On the other hand, it could just be a typo.”
Denny pointed his fork at me. “Now that’s simple enough to figure out. If a test was done, the hospital might have a record of it. Looking that up would be a hell of a lot cheaper than hiring an investigator.”
I looked across the table at Denny’s slim, handsome face and felt a rush of love. “You are a freaking genius.”
He smiled. “Keep talking.”
“Don’t push your luck.” I laughed.
“I won’t. Learned that lesson already.” He looked down at his crepe and sighed. “Just be careful, Sophie.”
“Careful of what?”
“What if you learn something you don’t want to know?”
“That could happen,” I admitted. “Reading the police report has already made me re-think that Officer Friendly bullshit they taught us in elementary school. There are boldfaced lies on the first page.”
He grunted.
“My brother was killed in Jude’s vintage 1972 Porsche, which is still parked behind his father’s garage. I took a quick look at it last month.”Before Jude interrupted me. “The front of the car was crumpled like a soda can, and the windshield was gone.”
Denny looked a little sick. “Damn,” he whispered. “I’ll bet that used to be an amazing car.”
I snorted. Boys and their machines.
“Why were you looking at the car?” Denny asked.
“To try to figure out how the crash happened. The driver’s side is still intact. But the passenger door is missing.” The first thing I’d seen when I’d lifted the tarp on that side was the textured seat fabric—black and white, with tan strips down either side. I’d always found the design strange. Though the sight of it was so achingly familiar that I’d felt the sting of tears in the back of my throat.
Denny cleared his throat. “And you think that’s strange?”
