Jake realized he could’ve made a colossal blunder, going to the Wawa.
“You want my opinion, the driver was probably drunk. That’s why people hit and run. To avoid detection because they’re drunk.”
Jake nodded, texting to Pam, hang in, home soon.
“Drunks usually stop for a hoagie or something to eat. They’ve been drinking and they get hungry. Wawa has cameras in the parking lot out front, too, so we can see the cars pull up. We even get a good view of their license plates. It’s unreal how often we luck out.” Officer McMullen snorted. “Anyway, I’ll go back to the scene after I drop you off. The rest of my platoon is still there, and I bet the body will be, too.”
“Really?” Jake blurted out, appalled.
“Yep. I’ve had bodies lie for a while in this county.” Officer McMullen’s upper lip curled with distaste. “You have no idea. I’ve had bodies lie bleeding through the blanket and I had to change the blanket.”
Jake flashed on Kathleen, bloodied in his arms last night.
“Problem is the coroner is in East Chester and he’s not always in his office, because he doesn’t have to be, and he’s the only one who’s allowed to pick up the body. He makes the declaration, then he takes the body to the hospital for the post. Postmortem, that is.” Officer McMullen steered the cruiser onto the road leading to the Chetwynd development. “People think the coroner does the post, but he doesn’t. He’s an elected official, and so’s the deputy coroner. They’re not even doctors. They could even be dentists. That’s why he’s not in the office half the time. Between you and me, it’s political.” Officer McMullen shook his head. “I guarantee the body’s still there.”
Jake’s stomach did a backflip, and another wave of guilt engulfed him. He knew he couldn’t hide it, so he turned his face to the window, where the police officer couldn’t see.
“So anyway, the post gets done at Paoli Hospital by a forensic pathologist, and unlike the coroner, he’s the real deal. He gets the trace evidence off the body, like hair, fiber, any prints, evidence like that. Between what he finds and what we find, we’ll get him.”
Jake spotted his house at the end of the street, not a moment too soon.
“It could be a woman, too. Remember last year, that socialite who hit that kid on a skateboard?” Officer McMullen eyed him in the rearview mirror. “Did you read about that case?”
“Yes, I did.” Jake edged forward, hoping that Ryan was nowhere near a window to see a police car pulling up.
“We caught her in the end, and we’ll catch this one, too. It might take us a week, a couple of months, or even a year, but we’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time.” Officer McMullen glanced over his shoulder. “What number did you say it was again?”
“My house? Two thirty-six, with the black shutters.” Jake scanned the fa?ade of his house, relieved nobody was at the windows. “Officer, thanks so much for the lift.”
“No problem, sir.” Officer McMullen steered the cruiser to the curb, slowed to a stop, and got out to open the back door. “Good luck with your car.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, fleeing the cruiser.
Chapter Nine
“What happened, honey?” Pam asked, meeting him in the entrance hall. Obviously, Ryan hadn’t confessed to her, because she looked like her normal self—sweet, loving, and concerned about him. But she must already have been in Ryan’s room, because Moose trotted up behind her.
“It was nothing, really. I hit the Dumpster at the Wawa. I clipped the edge.” Jake gave her a brief hug, so he didn’t get any residual airbag powder on her clothes. She was dressed for the gym, in glasses, ponytail, and a long T-shirt over her black yoga pants, but worry was etched into the lines of her lovely face.
“How did you do that? You weren’t on the phone, were you?”
“No, I hit the gas instead of the brake.”
“Really?” Pam recoiled, puzzled. “You’re a better driver than that.”
“I know.”
“So how did it happen?”
“God knows. I needed my coffee.” Jake let her go and shrugged it off, or tried to. He’d been too preoccupied on the ride home to make up a detailed story about the accident. “Mike’s is right there, and I don’t think it’s totaled, so it’s a nuisance, but that’s all.”
“Thank God.” Pam’s intelligent blue eyes searched his face from behind her glasses. “What’s that powder on your sweater?”
“From the airbag.” Jake brushed it away, but Pam lifted her eyebrow.
“The airbag went off? How fast were you going?”
“Not that fast.”
“But you have to be going a certain miles an hour for the airbag to go off. You must’ve been going kind of fast.”
“I didn’t think I was, but whatever. We’re insured, and I’m not going to sweat it. I have to rent a car.” Jake looked around for Ryan, masking his anxiety. “So what’s up with Ryan?”
“I don’t know, he seems really sick.” Pam raked her nails through her hair, which had a ridge from her ponytail. “He’s thrown up twice and he looks terrible.”
“Oh no.” Jake let his concern show.
“And he hardly slept last night. He didn’t want to tell me because he knows he can’t be sick now. The game’s Sunday. It’s the playoffs, remember?”
“Right.” Jake had forgotten. He didn’t know how Ryan would bear up under the pressure. It was getting worse and worse.
“He could have something, like a bug, but he was hiding it from me. I heard him in the bathroom and went in. He’s miserable, but there’s no fever. It could be the flu, there’s something going around.”
“That’s probably what it is. The flu.” Jake’s heart went out to his son. It sounded as if Ryan was distraught over the news about Kathleen, which was just what Jake would have expected. Ryan had to have known Kathleen, at least to say hello. And she had died at his hands.
“Wait a minute.” Pam frowned. “Did you tell me he had a hamburger last night, at the diner? I should call Sal right now and make a complaint.”
Think fast. “No, he didn’t have the burger. He only had ice cream.” Jake had to prevent her from calling Sal, who would tell her that he and Ryan hadn’t even been in last night.
“But you said he had a burger.” Pam frowned, more deeply. “I remember because I was surprised. He’d been saying he wants to eat less meat.”
“He ordered the burger, and I ordered a sundae, but when the food came, he thought mine looked better and we ended up switching.” Jake knew this was believable because everybody coveted his ice-cream sundaes, but he was the only one who ever ordered them.
“Oh, okay. Then it wasn’t the meat. Good.” Pam cocked her head. “Hmmm. It could’ve been that cheesy crap with the nachos, at the movie.”
“Right.” Jake wanted to talk with Ryan alone, which would be a problem now that Pam wasn’t going to the gym. But he knew how to make that happen. “Meanwhile, I didn’t get any breakfast. I didn’t even get my coffee yet.”
“I can fix you some eggs, if you want.”
“I’d love that, thanks. I’ll change and stop in and see him.” Jake went to the stairwell.
“Okay, I’ll call you when they’re ready.” Pam went to the kitchen with Moose following her, his toenails clicking on the hardwood. Jake hustled upstairs, knocked on Ryan’s door, then slipped inside his room.
“Dad!” Ryan looked pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a rumpled mess, and he was sitting up in bed in his sweats. His laptop, notebooks, and an open textbook lay scattered around him. “Did you hear? It was Kathleen Lindstrom. She’s in my class. She goes to my school.”
“I know.” Jake hurried over, scooped Ryan up, and hugged him close. He could feel his son slump against his chest, as if there were no strength at all in his young, athletic body.
“She’s my age.” Ryan’s voice sounded hoarse, about to give way to tears. “I didn’t know her, but a lot of my friends did.”