Chapter 6 - THE ROAD EMILY COULDN’T REMEMBER.
The crash report was nine pages long.
Blake read it three times.
Each reading made him less certain.
That was useful.
He wanted anger.
Paperwork gave him facts.
At 9:43 p.m., Emily’s Honda had left County Road Nine on a curve three miles east of Miller Creek Road.
The vehicle struck a drainage barrier, rolled, and came to rest on the passenger side.
A passing driver called 911.
Weather: light rain.
Road: wet.
Estimated speed: unknown.
Evidence of collision with another vehicle: none documented.
Witness to the crash: none.
Emily’s memory was fragmented.
That matched what she had told him.
A dark SUV behind her.
Headlights too close.
Then nothing clear.
No impact she could swear to.
No license plate.
No driver.
No proof anyone had caused the crash.
Blake sat across from Deputy Aaron Bell in a small office at the sheriff’s department.
Bell was forty-something, broad-shouldered, tired-looking.
He had been one of the first deputies on scene.
“Did you check for another vehicle?”
“We checked the scene.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Bell leaned back.
“We found no physical evidence another vehicle struck hers.”
“Did you look for cameras?”
“County Road Nine isn’t downtown.”
“Businesses?”
“One gas station near the junction. Camera was pointed mostly at the pumps.”
“Mostly?”
Bell’s expression tightened.
“Mr. Carter, I understand why you’re asking.”
“Then answer.”
“We requested footage.”
“And?”
“They said the system overwrote after seventy-two hours.”
Blake stared at him.
“When did you ask?”
“Four days after the crash.”
“That’s convenient.”
Bell’s face hardened.
“Careful.”
“Why four days?”
“Because at first we had a single-vehicle crash.”
“My wife was unconscious.”
“Yes.”
“She couldn’t tell you about the SUV.”
“Correct.”
“When she woke up?”
“We documented what she remembered.”
“And then checked.”
“Yes.”
“Too late.”
Bell said nothing.
Blake looked at the report.
“Who told Travis Mercer about the crash?”
Bell blinked.
“I don’t know.”
“He told me the sheriff’s office said she lost control.”
“That is what the preliminary report says.”
“You talk to him?”
“No.”
“Anybody here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?”
Bell gave him a long look.
“You think Mercer ran your wife off the road.”
“I did not say that.”
“No. You’re careful.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“Try harder.”
Blake leaned forward.
“My wife believes people wanted recordings she made about land deals connected to Travis Mercer. The night before her crash she was working on those recordings. A woman visited one of her sources asking whether Emily left anything there. Travis called that source five minutes later. Now his attorney wants to discuss the recordings before things get expensive.”
Bell’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Enough.
“His attorney contacted you?”
Blake slid a photograph of the business card across the desk.
Bell read it.
“Keep the original.”
“I am.”
“What recordings?”
“I’m still reviewing them.”
“Give us copies.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re alleging possible misconduct.”
“I’m telling you facts.”
Bell’s jaw tightened.
“Fine. Give us the facts.”
“I will when Emily’s attorney says how.”
“Her attorney?”
“She’ll have one.”
Bell nodded slowly.
“That’s smart.”
Blake almost smiled.
It was the first uncomplicated thing anyone had said all day.
Before leaving, he asked, “Who owns the gas station?”
Bell looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because somebody might still have access to archived footage.”
“They told us it overwrites.”
“That doesn’t answer ownership.”
Bell checked.
The station belonged to a regional chain.
Not Mercer.
Good.
Blake drove there.
The manager, a woman named Keisha Morgan, remembered the sheriff’s request.
“System overwrites,” she said.
“So there’s nothing?”
“On the store DVR.”
Blake caught the distinction.
“Where else?”
Keisha hesitated.
“The company was testing cloud backup.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
Blake did not let his expression change.
“Does the backup still exist?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you ask?”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
He showed her a photograph of Emily in the hospital.
Not the injuries.
Just her face.
“This is my wife.”
Keisha’s expression softened.
“I heard about that.”
“I’m trying to figure out whether she imagined a vehicle following her.”
Keisha nodded.
“I’ll call.”
Corporate bureaucracy took two hours.
Blake waited in a booth eating bad gas-station pizza because leaving felt impossible.
Finally Keisha returned.
“They have partial footage.”
“How partial?”
“Traffic camera angle. No audio.”
“Can I see it?”
“They won’t release without law enforcement or subpoena.”
“Can you tell me what’s on it?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“I’m not supposed to.”
Blake waited.
Keisha glanced toward the office.
Then said, “Your wife’s car passed at 9:36.”
Blake’s body went still.
“And?”
“A dark SUV passed twelve seconds later.”
“Twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Could you see the plate?”
“Not clearly.”
“Make?”
“Maybe GMC. Maybe Chevy. I’m not good with cars.”
“Color?”
“Black or dark blue.”
“Anything identifying?”
Keisha hesitated.
“There was something on the windshield.”
“What?”
“Parking sticker or permit.”
“Can you describe it?”
“White rectangle. Blue stripe.”
Blake took out his phone.
“Would you recognize it?”
“Maybe.”
He searched publicly available images of Mercer Development offices, employee parking permits, county badges.
Nothing.
Then he remembered the hospital.
Travis’s car had not been in the room.
Obviously.
But Blake had seen Mercer signs.
Blue and white.
Meaningless.
Could be coincidence.
He did not want to make facts fit anger.
“What happened after the SUV passed?”
Keisha looked at him.
“Nothing on our camera. It went the same direction.”
“Distance?”
“Twelve seconds.”
“That’s not following.”
“No.”
“Could be.”
“Yes.”
“Could also be somebody going home.”
“Yes.”
Blake appreciated her.
She was not trying to help him so hard that she became unreliable.
“Will you preserve the footage?”
“Corporate already did after I explained.”
“Thank you.”
He called Deputy Bell from the parking lot.
Bell listened.
“Send me the manager’s information.”
“You’ll request it?”
“Yes.”
“That fast?”
Bell exhaled.
“Mr. Carter, contrary to what you seem to think, I don’t enjoy getting things wrong.”
Blake paused.
“That’s fair.”
Back at the hospital, Emily was awake.
He told her about the footage.
She closed her eyes.
“You believe me.”
“I believed that you remembered an SUV.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
She opened her eyes.
“Do you think it was Travis?”
“I think a dark SUV drove the same road twelve seconds behind you.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Emily looked frustrated.
Blake reached for her hand.
“That is how we protect this.”
“By pretending?”
“By refusing to pretend.”
She studied him.
Then nodded.
A minute later, his phone rang.
Deputy Bell.
“I got the footage.”
“And?”
“The SUV’s plate isn’t readable.”
Blake closed his eyes.
Bell continued.
“But the windshield sticker is.”
Blake stood.
“What is it?”
May you like
There was a pause.
“A Mercer Development employee parking permit.”
