promise me you’ll get me out of here. Just say that because I didn’t take the Breathalyzer, you don’t have any proof I was drinking.”
“I told you—I can’t make deals.”
“No deal, no information. Like I said, I can’t go back to prison.”
They stood facing each other, neither of them looking away.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?” Sims said finally. “Don’t you want to know who did it?”
Miles’s heart began to race, and his hands clenched involuntarily at his side. His mind was spinning.
“I’ll tell you if you let me go,” Sims added.
Miles’s mouth opened, then closed as everything—all the memories—rushed back, spilling over him like the water from an overflowing sink. It seemed unbelievable, preposterous. Yet... what if Sims was telling the truth?
What if he knew who killed Missy?
“You’ll have to testify,” was all he could think to say.
Sims raised his hands. “No way. I didn’t see nothing, but I overheard people talking. And if they find out that I’m the one who told, I’m as good as dead. So I can’t testify. I won’t. I’ll swear that I don’t remember telling you nothing. And you can’t tell ’em where you learned it from, either. This is just between us— you and me. But...”
Sims shrugged, his eyes narrowing, playing Miles perfectly.
“You don’t really care about that now, do you? You just want to know who did it, and I can do that. And may God strike me dead if I ain’t telling the truth.”
Miles grabbed the bars, his knuckles turning white. “Tell me!” he shouted.
“Get me out of here,” Sims responded, somehow keeping his cool in spite of Miles’s outburst, “and I will.”
For a long time, Miles simply stared at him.
“I was at the Rebel,” Sims finally began, after Miles had agreed to his demands. “You know the place, right?”
Sims didn’t wait for an answer. He swiped his greasy hair with the back of his hand. “This was a couple of years back or so—I can’t really recall when it was, exactly—and I was having a few drinks, you know? Behind me, in one of the booths, I saw Earl Getlin. You know him?”
Miles nodded. Another in a long line of people well-known in the department. Tall and thin, pockmarked face, tattoos up both arms—one that showed a lynching, the other a skull with a knife driven through it. Had been arrested for assault, breaking and entering, dealing in stolen goods. Suspected drug dealer. A year and a half ago, after being caught stealing a car, he’d been sent up to Hailey State Prison. Not due for release for another four years.
“He was kind of antsy, fidgeting with his drink, like he was waiting for someone. That’s when I saw them come in. The Timsons. They stood in the door for just a second, looking around until they found him. They ain’t the kind of people I like being around, so I didn’t draw no attention to myself. Next thing I know, they were sitting across from Earl. And they were talking real low, almost whispering, but from where I was, I could hear every word they were saying.”
Miles’s back had gone rigid with Sims’s story. His mouth was dry, as though he’d been outside in the heat for hours.
“They were threatening Earl, but he kept saying that he didn’t have it yet. That’s when I heard Otis speak up—until then, he’d let his brothers do the talking. He told Earl that if he didn’t have the money by the weekend, he’d better watch out, because nobody screwed with him.”
He blinked. Blood had drained from his face.
“He said the same thing would happen to Earl that had happened to Missy Ryan. Only this time, they’d back up and run him over again.”
Chapter 18
I remember that I was screaming even before I brought the car to a halt.
I recall the impact, of course—the slight shudder of the wheel and the nauseating thud. But what I remember most are my own screams from inside the car. They were ear-shattering, echoing off the closed windows, and they went on until I turned the ignition off and was finally able to push open the door. My screams then turned into panicked prayer. “No, no, no . . .” is all I remember saying.
Barely able to breathe, I ran to the front of the car. I didn’t see any damage: The car was, as I said, an older model, one structured to withstand more impact than the cars of today. But I