You were followed twice this week!
She’d been so stupid. She’d hit herself if she wasn’t already in such pain.
She took out her phone and her vision was fuzzy. Jasper Pierce must still be in the area. She hoped. She hit redial.
“Santini.”
She was confused. Was he the last person she’d called? She couldn’t remember. She needed to focus.
“Max? You there?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was not her own. She took a deep breath, sat on the sidewalk and leaned against the car. “I—um—r-r-remember when you said if I needed help just to ask-k-k?” Her words sounded funny. She spit blood onto the sidewalk and felt her teeth with her tongue. They seemed to all be there. What an odd thing to think about. But she had nice, straight, white teeth and the thought that some bastard might have dislodged one made her angry.
“Are you drunk? You’re slurring.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I wish I were. I need a ride.”
“Where are you?”
She gave him the address of Palm Storage. “But I’m down the street. Someone hit my car.”
“Are you injured?”
“Not serious. Just shaken.”
“I’ll call a patrol and ambulance.”
“No ambulance. Dammit, can I just get a ride back to the hotel and I can tell you what the bastard stole?”
“Your car was stolen?”
“No, Lindy’s journal.”
“Who’s Lindy?”
“We have a lot to talk about.”
Chapter Twenty
Nick could not be trusted. He called a patrol and an ambulance, and Max sat in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics cleaned up the cuts on her face and hands. She felt sore and stupid and irate.
She glared at Nick as he talked to the patrol officer. She’d already given her statement and all she wanted to do was go home.
Home. She didn’t have a home to go to. She had a hotel.
While she knew that she could go to her grandmother’s and curl up in her old bed and have Regina prepare her favorite comfort foods, she would also be subjected to a lecture, an argument about tracking Lindy’s killer, and a cold shoulder. It wasn’t worth it.
Stop it, Max. You’re feeling sorry for yourself.
“Where’s my phone?” she asked the paramedic.
“The police have all your personal effects. You should go to the hospital, Ms. Revere.”
“No, thank you.” She closed her eyes.
“You might have a concussion. You have a pretty big knot on the side of your head.”
He touched it as if to prove a point, making her yelp.
“I’ll have the front desk call me every two hours and wake me up. Happy?”
Nick said, “I’ll watch her.”
She hadn’t even seen him approach.
“I just need a ride, Detective.”
Nick ignored her and spoke to the paramedic. “What’s the story? Anything broken?”
“No,” he said. “She’ll be bruised and sore in the morning, more from being rear-ended. A few cuts, but that lump on her head is nasty. I got most of the glass out of her hair, but Ms. Revere, when you shower be very careful. Even though it’s safety glass, it can still cut you.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Nick helped her stand and they walked over to his Bronco. He opened the passenger door for her. “Nick, there’s a box in the backseat of my car. Can you please get it?”
He closed the door without answering. A few minutes later, he put the box of Kevin’s files in the back of his Bronco and then silently drove to her hotel.
She expected him to leave her in the lobby; instead, he carried the box to her room.
“Thank you,” she said.
He followed her in and put the box on her desk.
“Nick, I don’t need to be babysat.”
He was staring at her boards. She’d meant to close them up—that’s why she liked the trifolds, easy to hide. But she also hadn’t expected to bring anyone to her hotel room.
“Nick, please—I want a shower.” She held the door open for him to get the hint. She wanted to be alone. To lick her wounds.
Her head pounded. She considered everything she’d found, and lost, today. Losing Lindy’s diary was not only heartbreaking, she’d never see it again. The killer would destroy it and she’d never know the truth.
She didn’t know if she could live with that.
For too long she’d lived with not knowing where her mother was, not knowing who her father was, and not knowing where the bastard who killed Karen dumped her body. And, if she was being so honest with herself, she realized that not knowing who killed Lindy had been like a cancer in her soul, eating her up, driving her forward while holding her back. She hated unsolved crimes, but her life was one big unsolved mystery with partial clues and lots of doubts.
“Nick, you can leave. I’m going to be fine.”
“I have no doubt.” He turned to assess her. She couldn’t read his expression, whether he was angry or worried or annoyed. All of the above. “After you explain to me why you lied.”
She let the door close and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, trying to relieve the building pressure. “I don’t lie, Nick.”
“Bullshit. When I was on the phone with you, you specifically said he took Lindy’s journal. But when the officer asked if the attacker took anything, you said you didn’t think so.” He gestured to the three trifolds. “I didn’t make the connection then, but now—Lindy Ames. We talked about this the other day, but you changed the subject. I let you change it then, but no longer. Beck has it out for you because you testified for her killer, that much I figured out. But why this?” He tapped the board. “And you had her journal? Tell me why I shouldn’t tell him you’re withholding evidence in a capital case.”
“I’m not.” She closed her eyes. “Kevin O’Neal didn’t kill Lindy.”
“So you’ve said. Beck is confident that he did.”
“I know. They never looked at any other suspects because an anonymous caller placed Kevin at the school during the time that Lindy died. And Kevin lied about his alibi.”