Part 5 (2/2)

Leman stood up to leave, took a breath as if to say something, then didn't. He left us, pus.h.i.+ng through the restaurant's door and into the warm darkness.

Something's wrong, I thought. I glanced at the speedometer. Sixty miles an hour, a cruising speed on the dark and desolate road from Avondale to Otis. So why is my heart pounding?

Then the hood of my Honda flew up in my face.

I hit the brakes. Mama reached out and grabbed my arm but then quickly released it when she realized how tight my fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel and how hard I was struggling to blindly keep the car on the road.

”Take it easy, Simone!” she shouted as the smell of rubber and asphalt recorded the Honda's disastrous skid.

The darkness confused me and the Honda spun around, left the pavement, flew up in the air and nose-dived in straight down.

Then all was silent, except for the trickle of some fluid running somewhere in the darkness of the car.

My body ached like I'd been used as a punching bag. ”Mama,” I whispered.

Nothing.

I tried to turn, but my seat belt and the air bag pinned me tight. ”Mama, are you all right?” I shouted.

Nothing.

Then, feeling myself a long way off and drifting farther into darkness, I decided that my mother was dead and I hadn't told her good-bye.

CHAPTER.

TEN.

The trip to Otis County General Hospital's emergency room in the ambulance was a nightmare that I was glad to have over. We were lucky: a man driving by had spotted our wreck and called 911 to say that a car had gone off into a ditch.

”Nothing broken. Nothing fractured, not even a concussion,” the doctor told us, his voice devoid of emotion. ”You can go home.”

My father smiled nervously. ”Thank G.o.d,” he told Mama. ”I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost both you and Simone at the same time.”

It was almost one A.M. when we finally got home. Other than rea.s.suring my father that we would be just fine, Mama hadn't said very much. When my father asked, ”What happened out there?” she simply told him, ”Maybe tomorrow it'll all make sense.”

Mama's words told me that she, like me, was trying to understand what had really happened to us. The hood of the Hondaa”why would it go up like that? Had somebody snapped the latch? If so, they'd have to undo the lock from the inside of the car. I tried to remember: Did I lock the car door when we went into McDonald's? And who was the Good Samaritan who had called Abe?

It was almost noon before I opened my eyes. My body hurt all over, so the first thing I did was to take a steaming hot shower. I almost felt human by the time I stumbled into the kitchen.

Mama sat at the table, sipping coffee.

”What's up, pretty lady?” I asked.

”You all right?” she responded without looking at me.

”Except for soreness, I'm terrific. What about you?”

”I'm okay,” she said, her voice distracted, her mind somewhere else. ”Your breakfast is in the microwave.”

”Thanks. Where's Daddy?”

”James has gone to get the car towed. I suspect you'll need a rental to get back to Atlanta.”

”Today is Sunday, isn't it? I wonder whether my car can be fixed.”

”James will take care of that,” Mama said.

I poured my coffee and orange juice. ”Have you decided what happened out there?” I asked, taking a plate of golden waffles from the microwave and joining her at the table.

”Simone,” Mama said, ”why would that hood fly up like that?”

I looked into her eyes; the concern was deep. I picked up my fork, then put it back down. For once, even Mama's wonderful food wasn't tempting. We'd almost died on the road from Avondale to Otis. Why?

”Could it have been Leman Moody?” Mama continued. ”And, if so, why? I didn't say anything that would have threatened him, did I?”

”Of course not,” I said, but I didn't sound as soothing as I'd hoped. ”It could just as well have been Inez Moore or her old man.”

Mama nodded but didn't say anything. It was as if she was following some thought inside her head.

”Up until you started asking questions,” I said, ”the consensus has been that Ruby Spikes committed suicide. The killer might have been satisfied that was going to be the end of it.”

”Yes,” Mama said. ”But this only confirms that somebody killed Ruby, doesn't it? If what happened to us was no accident, Ruby's death wasn't a suicide.”

I nodded. ”You'd better be careful,” I warned. ”The killer may try again!”

”Yes,” she murmured, ”but I'd rather James not know what we suspect just now. He'd panic and do something to scare the killer.”

”That lunatic should be scared! Mama, we almost died last night. And it's really true: my whole life flashed in front of my eyes when I thought I was going to die!”

”Simone, honey, you're exaggerating again.”

”Okay, but it was a close call and you know it. When I called you and you didn't answer, I just knew you were dead. And, lady, that's pretty scary!”

”I was stunned,” she admitted softly. ”Confused, I guess. I heard your voice buta””

I reached over and squeezed her hands. ”No need to apologize,” I said. ”We got through that alive, that's what counts.”

The front door opened and closed.

”Candi,” my father said as he walked into the kitchen. ”There is a skid mark where you and Simone had your accident last night that looks like somebody pushed the Honda in the ditch.”

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