reporter or something?”
“Ah . . . no. Just curious.”
The man made a moue with his mouth. “Now, you wanna talk about wrecks, that boy wasn’t the only car to go off this road. Happens once a year or so.”
“Huh.”
“People driving too fast. Too impatient to slow down for ten minutes. They added more reflectors on the guardrails.” He pointed them out to me. “But what they really need is that texture ridge on the side of the road that makes a noise when you drive over it. Know what I mean? I’ve been suggesting that to the county for years. Could save lives. But they’ve done dick-all about it.” He clicked his tongue. “Come on, Fifi.”
Fifi was happy to move on, having gotten her pets from me. She ran forward, tail bopping, looking for her next fan.
But I stood there, feeling inexplicably chilled in the warm September morning. It was possible the man had misremembered. He said himself there’d been other crashes off this road, so maybe he was confusing several incidents.
But . . . what if he was right? What if there hadn’t been another car? I knew Aaron hadn’t lied to me. His guilt and grief were too raw. So did that mean someone had lied to him?
The idea made my blood run cold.
Chapter 22
Billy
“You called about the accident involving Seb Montgomery?”
The man on the other end of the phone sounded clipped, like he knew he was wasting his time and didn’t appreciate it. I had to remind myself to speak calmly and not sound desperate.
“Yeah, hi. I’m trying to reach Detective Simmons. The papers had a quote from him about the case, so I thought he’d be the person to speak to.”
“That’s me,” he said shortly. “Detective Simmons. Your message said that you know Seb?” His tone said now pull the other leg.
“Yes, I know Seb. I’m a friend of his.”
I closed my eyes and told myself not to blow this. I’d spent two hours on the phone trying to find the right Detective Simmons. I finally got someone to take a message for him. If he hung up now, I’d probably never get anyone to call me back.
“Know?” the man queried in a distracted voice. “Or knew? Have you seen him recently?”
“I know him now. I started working for him this past May.”
I felt a flicker of unease. I had to be careful how much I revealed. Aaron was convinced he could be arrested if the cops knew he’d recovered. I wasn’t so sure about that anymore, but I didn’t want to give too much away until I knew exactly where things stood.
“Is he awake?” Simmons asked.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“Does he speak?”
Shit. “Listen, I called because I have questions about the night of the accident. Could I come see you?”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Are you with the press?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
An audible sigh. “That better be true. If I find out you’re lying to me, you’ll be in a world of hurt. Are you in the area? I was about to take a coffee break.”
Detective Simmons was a nice-looking guy—in an insomniac accountant sort of way. He had blond hair cut short and a thick, bushy moustache that belonged in an eighties porno. His gray eyes were wary as I sat down across from him in a booth at a diner on Ventura Boulevard.
“Sorry,” I panted. “It took me a while to find a place to park. I don’t know LA”
He grunted, stirred his coffee, and flagged down the waitress. I was hungry, but I didn’t want to order food if he wasn’t eating, so I just got a cup of coffee.
He didn’t say anything until she’d brought the drink to me and left again. But he assessed me, silently giving me the third degree, maybe trying to see if I really was a reporter or gossip blogger or whatever. There was nothing I could do but hope he came to the right conclusion.
He must have, because he quietly asked, “How’s he doing?”
The soft concern in his tone made my chest grow tight. I swallowed down a hot lump, determined to hold it together. “Um, not too bad. Considering what he went through.”
He nodded. “Where is he?”
That gave me pause. “I can’t . . . tell you that?”
He gave me a hard stare.
God, this was hard. Was I doing the right thing here? What if I got Aaron into trouble? “Are you after him? The cops, I mean.” I felt my