Part 28 (1/2)
Eight minutes later Stephanie came out of the house deep in conversation with Mary McCain, their sudden camaraderie odd, considering Stephanie was a doctor and Mary had always taken pride in the fact that she'd never visited a doctor in her life.
A few minutes later, Donovan and Carpenter were locked into a heated discussion in the Suburban, the windows rolled tight.
44. YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO MEMORIZE THIS: 7540182418630846.
Positioning the vanity mirror so that I could watch the argument in the Suburban behind us, I missed all but the gist of what Stephanie was telling me, something about how much faith Mary had that her religion would bring Joel back to his old self. Despite what Mary thought, Joel was gone. He was an idiot and would be for the rest of eternity. Just as I would be.
The speed limit was thirty-five, but we were doing closer to forty-five; behind us, the Suburban quickly matched our speed.
Without warning, the Suburban swerved across the yellow line and nearly struck an oncoming vehicle, overcorrected, and went off the road on the right, a sheet of dust flaring up as it crossed the dirt.
”Achara had an accident!” shrieked Allyson, who'd been watching the Suburban with me.
”Stop,” I said.
”What?” Stephanie glanced into her mirror and pulled onto the parking strip, reversing until we occupied the stretch of roadway directly opposite the accident. The Suburban had center-punched a small tree. The vehicle the Suburban had so narrowly missed was backing up, too.
”You girls stay inside,” I said.
”Can't we go see?” Britney asked.
”No.”
The tree, about five inches in diameter, had creased the front b.u.mper of the Suburban. Other than that, there wasn't much damage. The winds.h.i.+eld was intact.
”Oh, G.o.d,” said Donovan when I reached the vehicle. He was cupping his nose with both hands, blood leaking through his fingers. The deployed air bag had popped him good. I reached inside past Donovan and turned off the ignition.
As I moved around the vehicle to see how Achara was doing, one of our volunteers, Andre Stiles, climbed out of the pickup across the street, still wearing his uniform from the funeral.
He peered around the vehicle to see where I was headed, spotted Achara, and rolled his eyes. As a group, the guys in the department indulged in a lot of adolescent humor about my homing in on the best-looking woman at any accident scene-some of them even claimed I'd elbowed them aside to get to particularly pretty victims. I almost always let them run with their joke.
Achara was on the pa.s.senger side of the Suburban, hands on her knees, staring at the ground. ”You all right?” I asked.
The ringing in my ears obscured her initial reply. When I asked her to repeat, she said, ”Got a pencil? I'm going to give you some numbers. Don't tell Scott.”
”Why not?”
”Write this down. I want you to have this before I tell you anything else.”
”I don't have anything to write with.”
”There's no time to get it. Just listen. Seventy-five, forty.”
”Seventy-five, forty.”
”That's the first part. The rest goes, eighteen, twenty-four, eighteen, sixty-three, oh-eight, forty-six. Write it down first chance you get. Don't let anyone see it until you need it.”
”Need it for what?”
”Give it back to me. Do you remember it?”
”Seventy-five, forty. Eighteen, twenty-four, eighteen, sixty-three, oh-eight, forty-six.”
”Not too many people could do that.”
”Bible school.”
She wasn't bleeding, but she would probably end up with a black eye from the impact of her air bag. ”You sure you can remember that?”
”I can remember anything.”
”Jesus Christ! You could have killed somebody,” Donovan whined, rounding the rear of the Suburban holding a four-by-four inch gauze pad to his nose, his tieless s.h.i.+rt dappled with red.
”It was your your fault.” fault.”
”My fault? You grabbed the wheel. You don't ever ever grab the wheel when somebody else is driving.” grab the wheel when somebody else is driving.”
”You were in the wrong lane, Scott. You were going to kill somebody.”
”The only person was going to kill anybody was you.”
”Look who's talking. Mr. Ethical.”
”Now don't get into that that.”
”I'll get into it if I want to get into it.”
”This is my last warning. Don't go there.” His voice was surprisingly calm considering what they'd just been through.
They glowered at each other, and before anybody could react, Achara stepped forward and kicked Donovan in the s.h.i.+n. He stepped back and held his leg. The contrast in size between Achara and Donovan made the skirmish almost funny. I doubted she weighed a hundred pounds. At the least, Donovan weighed two-forty.
None of this kept her from kicking him a second time.
I stopped her before she could do anything else. ”No, you don't. That's the end of it. It's over.”
”Get out of my way. You don't even know what this is about.”
”Sure I do. It's about somebody going to jail.”
”Don't even make me tell you how many martial arts I know,” Donovan warned, over my shoulder.
Donovan's jaw was clenched, his blue eyes glued to Achara. Yet, strangely, he seemed afraid of her. In a physical altercation he could take Achara, together with me and probably Stephanie and Stiles, all of us at once. Because of the calluses on Donovan's knuckles, I had no doubt his martial arts skills were impressive. Yet he hadn't made a move to defend himself.
Stiles picked up his aid kit and marched across the street to his pickup truck. Stephanie took Achara by the arm and led her behind the Suburban. I gestured for Donovan to step over to the Lexus.
”What's going on between you two?”
”You saw her. She caused that accident.”