Crime seen by Victoria Laurie

Author:Victoria Laurie
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-04-06T22:00:17.031000+00:00

Chapter Eight

A county sheriff’s deputy showed up within about ten minutes of our 911 call. After viewing Candice’s crumpled SUV at the bottom of the ravine he quickly called for backup, then offered us blankets and the back of his patrol car to warm up in. I continued to shiver long after we’d warmed up. I couldn’t believe how close we’d come to looking like compacted trash.

After backup arrived, the deputy took us to a highway station and got our statements. It was while we told our story that Candice and I realized we knew very little about our assailant. The only relevant information we were able to give was that we’d been rammed several times by a black or dark blue Hummer and neither of us knew why. At least, that’s what we told the deputy.

After we gave our statements, Candice called her grandmother for a lift, then her insurance company. ‘‘They are so going to drop me,’’ she muttered after she’d hung up the phone.

My right side felt light. ‘‘Yep,’’ I agreed. ‘‘Time to start looking for another carrier.’’

We sat in stunned silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It would be at least an hour and a half before Madame Brijitte Dubois—Candice’s rather eccentric grandmother—could get to us, so we had time to ponder things.

Finally, after almost an hour, Candice said, ‘‘I think we were tailed from the prison.’’

‘‘My thoughts exactly,’’ I said. ‘‘Did you notice the Hummer at any point on the drive?’’

Candice sighed heavily. ‘‘Nope. I blew it. I was concentrating so hard on seeing the road in front of us that I wasn’t even looking in the rearview mirror.’’

‘‘Kinda tough to see anything in that rain,’’ I offered.

Candice nodded and was silent for a few beats before she said, ‘‘The real question is, who did we piss off?’’

I scoffed and rubbed my neck, which was starting to stiffen. ‘‘Someone who owns a Hummer.’’

‘‘How’s that hand?’’ she asked, looking down at my crudely wrapped right hand.

‘‘I think there’s still some glass in it. I’ll need to go home and soak the heck out of it.’’

‘‘Might want to see a doctor,’’ she offered helpfully.

‘‘No thanks,’’ I said. ‘‘I’ve seen enough of them for a while.’’

We waited in the lobby of the sheriff’s station, listening to the rain outside, for nearly two hours. Finally the doors opened and a beautiful elderly woman toting a bright pink umbrella entered. ‘‘Bonjour!’’ she said as she spotted us, her voice thick with an authentic French accent.

‘‘Bonjour, Nana!’’ Candice said, getting to her feet and looking at the clock on the wall. ‘‘I was beginning to worry about you.’’

Madame Dubois gave her a wink. ‘‘Ze traffic! C’est horrible!’’

‘‘May I drive us back?’’ Candice asked, reaching for the keys.

‘‘Mais oui,’’ Madame Dubois answered, giving them up easily. ‘‘ ’Ow is your car, Candice?’’

Candice glanced at me and gave me a guarded look. ‘‘Fine, Nana. Just a little fender bender, but enough that I didn’t want to risk driving it any farther in this stuff.

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