He stared at her again, hatred simmering in his eyes now. When he spoke, his voice held a threat. “You never did know when to quit, did you?” He blew out a breath. “Okay. We’re not exactly sure who was driving. Don’t make me draw you a picture you won’t want to see.”
“How could you not know who was behind the wheel?”
He huffed out a breath. “They were together on the ground—one of them thrown from the vehicle, the other walked or crawled over to check.”
She swallowed hard, horrified, but fighting not to show it.
“Strange things happen in car accidents, freakish things. Pens sticking out of necks, arms twisted in bad ways, people in the backseat who started out in the front, you don’t want to know—”
“So you’re saying it might have been my father driving? Was he drunk? The blood tests would show that, right?”
He gave her a calculating look. “When they set up an IV, EMTs use an anticlotting agent that screws with any alcohol reading. Even if your insurance company lawyers subpoenaed the lab work, they’d get shit-all, if you’ll excuse my language. This is good for you, since that way they can’t refuse to cover your family’s vehicles in the future. It’s all been taken care of, as I’ve told you more than once.”
“So, what, you lied to the insurance company? You’re falsifying your report to protect my father—or my sister—from a drunk-driving charge? Is that what you’re implying?”
“I suggest you stop right there.”
“I don’t think so. Not until I find out the truth. If I have to subpoena the hospital records, I will. I want to see your report, Chief Fallon, false or not. Accident reports are public record. Certainly I’d like to see the photos of the accident scene and the car, since you don’t seem to remember what it looked like. Where is the car, by the way?” Shaking, she pulled out a notepad to write down his answer.
“It’s wherever your insurance company had it towed,” he said with a smirk.
“You must know where it went.”
“No idea whatsoever.” He snapped his jaw closed and folded his arms. “Better call your insurance guy. See how far you get with him with this nasty, demanding attitude you’ve got.”
“So you refuse to help me? Even though you have all this respect for my family?” Sarcasm was a mistake, but she couldn’t stop herself.
When he spoke, his voice was nearly a growl. “You’re in grief, I know, and half hysterical, so I’m not going to take offense at your insults to my competence and integrity.” Both hands on his desk, he pushed to his feet, leaning forward, as if to loom over her. She stood, not stepping back, not intimidated one bit. “I accept your apology,” he snapped. “Now please leave.”
“My apology?” She’d lost her temper, she knew, but she refused to be put at the mercy of this self-righteous small-town tyrant. Before she could say more, the door opened. Dylan stepped in. “Everything okay in here?”
“No,” Tara said. “Everything’s not okay. This man, who is a public servant, refuses to show me the accident report I’m entitled to see as a citizen and a relative of the victims.”
“Miss Wharton seems to think there’s some conspiracy going on,” Fallon said. “She thinks I’ve got secret evidence I’m keeping from her. Could you tell her there is no mystery here, no TV drama? Could you tell her to go on home and help her poor mother and be done with it?”
Tara was so furious, she was afraid she might slap the guy. This rinky-dink cop wasn’t going to keep the truth from her. She would contact the state police or the sheriff’s office and ask them to investigate. She would hire an attorney. She would file a suit. Whatever she needed to do she would do. “This is not over, Chief Fallon. Count on it.” She turned for the door, shaking with rage, catching Dylan’s stunned look as she left.
CHAPTER SIX
UNEASY ABOUT HOW Bill Fallon might respond to Tara’s questions, Dylan had headed over to the police chief’s office just to take the temperature of the room. He’d arrived in time for the mercury to spike.
“Can you believe that?” Fallon seethed. “She rolls into town and starts throwing her weight around. Typical Wharton.”
“I’m sure she’s trying to make sense of what happened.”
“You don’t think I know that, boss? You forget I was doing this job when your mom was still cutting your meat for you.”