think anyone expected him to come back here, especially not with his father still living on the outskirts of town. Mayor Robertson had been a great guy: extroverted, garrulous, and a good money manager. Everybody had loved him, until he got behind the wheel while drunk and hit another car coming home from a fundraiser.
It happened during Max and Hal’s senior year, back when I was just a freshman. The girl who died, Everly, had been a classmate of theirs.
After the accident, Max had spent a week at our house and barely said a thing the whole time. I remembered his shouting match with his father in my parents’ driveway and how his dad had forced him into the car. That was the last time I saw him, apart from Everly’s funeral. He and his mom left Edgewood right after that. Hal didn’t like to talk about it, so I hadn’t brought up Max more than once since then.
I shook my head free of the memories and focused.
Visibility was crap, even with the Jeep’s floodlights. I drove slowly and looked out for anything that stood out among all the white. Aha. There, up on the right side of the road, just past the bridge. The car’s lights were out, but the shadow of it was distinct against the wall of snow it had crashed into. Damn. I hoped he really was uninjured and not just in shock while he’d talked to 911.
I parked on the righthand shoulder, grabbed my flashlight, and got out of the car. The silhouette of a man greeted me, resolving into a familiar face as I got the light up.
Oh, shit. It was him. It was Max “Don’t call me Maxfield” Robertson. Same dark blond hair, same oddly bright blue eyes—like someone had opened up a fresh can of aquamarine paint and infused it with sunshine. He’d always looked like a movie star to me, only he’d gone from teenybopper dreamboy to A-list icon. He was ridiculously handsome in a pair of tight jeans and a dark, V-necked Henley.
He also looked ridiculously cold—why the hell wasn’t he wearing a coat?
“Hi there, Officer,” he said, and fuck, yep, I hadn’t misremembered that voice in the ten years since I’d last seen him. Max was an average-sized guy, but his voice had broken low and stayed that way. “I’m really hoping that you’re my ride.”
It took me a second to realize that he hadn’t used my name. Could he not see my face? Did he not recognize me? Not the time, I muttered internally. “Yeah, that’s me,” I said after a moment, pausing to clear my throat. “Are you all right, sir?”
“Apart from some wounded pride and a kiss on the cheek from my airbag, I’m fine.” He glanced at the car. “It won’t start. Otherwise, I’d have moved it further off the road.”
I took a look at the car—a four-door BMW sedan—and decided it was okay as-is for now. None of it was sticking out into the lane, at least. “It’ll keep,” I said. “How did the crash happen?”
“I did a great job of dodging a deer but a really crappy job of dodging a snowbank.” He rubbed his hands along his arms. “Can we talk more about it in your car? I don’t mean to push, but I’m freezing.”
Jeez, of course he was. “Sure thing,” I said. “Do you have anything with you that you want to bring, Mr. Robertson? A bag, maybe a coat and hat?”
His eyes shut for a moment. “Right. Yes, let me grab that.” He opened the back door, and I heard a zipper swoosh up and down for a moment. When he straightened up again, he had a backpack at his feet and was shrugging a thick leather jacket on over his shoulders. He looked a little sheepish. “I forgot all about it.”
Yeah, there had definitely been some shock happening here. I decided not to press, just nodded and led him back to the Jeep. His shoes slipped on the snow—he was in a pair of black, shiny loafers. Loafers, seriously. I grabbed his arm to help keep him upright but let him get into the Jeep himself. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Don’t drive off without me, okay?”
“Very trusting, Officer,” he replied, amusement lacing his voice despite his obvious cold and discomfort.
“Nah, you just look like the kind of guy who knows when he’s beat.”
Max laughed. “You’d be surprised.”
His laugh sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to