“Why was he here?”
“Same reason as you. He was asking about that pickup. Simple fact is the evidence was collected, and the automobilewas crushed per police request. We don’t have the space to store every wrecked automobile in the parish for shits and giggles.”
Shits and giggles.Like this is a fucking joke. “Do you have any more information on the vehicle at all? Like maybe a VIN or something that might tell who the owner was? Did they even search for evidence?”
“Yes, dear. The investigators know how to do their jobs. All the numbers were scratched off and there wasn’t any evidence left behind. The detective told me out of his own mouth after that bastard showed up.”
I stand frozen as the man keeps ranting, my mind working to comprehend that the only lead I had is gone.
The man finally stops to take a breather after he adds, “It’s just business. Nothing personal.”
It’s extremely personal for me. “The driver of that truck killed my mother.”
His expression softens a bit. “I’m sorry for your loss. Wish I could give you more, but I can’t.”
Case closed. But I also just opened it. Maybe I should’ve just left it alone rather than be disappointed all over again. I want to know, but it feels like I’ve lost another piece of her. Why did I think it’d be better? And once again, why did I think any of this would make a difference? Even if I find what I’m looking for, she’d still be dead.
“Thanks,” I say, then walk out.
When I pull into Uncle Shawn’s driveway, I’m still replaying the conversation. He never mentioned any of it. Getting arrested for assaulting a guy should be worth a mention.
He waves to me as I walk around to the porch. “Ivy, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“The impound guy said you punched him.”
Uncle Shawn freezes, his shock that I know the fact is clear.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you find anything?”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was trying to find out who was responsible, but it was another dead end. The detective assured me he was still investigating but it seemed like they’d forgotten what was done to her and you.”
“I got the police report. It’s useless.”
“Yes, it is. She’s more than a case number to me. She’s my sister, and I want justice.”
“She’ll never get it.” Would it make this easier if she did? My hunch is no, but I’d like to believe otherwise.
“There’s still hope. I’m not giving up. So, I don’t want you to either.” He’s saying all the right things to give the illusion he’s optimistic, but I can tell he knows it’s hopeless, just like I do.
“Is Grandma doing better?”
“She’s on the mend but has been extremely tired. They already had to tweak her medication again to try and find the right balance.”
“So, I can’t say hi.”
“Perhaps next time when she’s a little more herself. The last few days have been really tough for her. Even Kathleen hasn’t been able to cope with her episodes.”
He’s lying again. He wants to keep me away from Grandma. And I don’t feel like pushing the subject. “Okay.”
“You’re welcome to stay for supper. Kathleen is cooking one of your favorites.”
I don’t even ask what meal he’s talking about and just say, “Maybe next time.”
He’s not being upfront with me. And I need to process the day. That can’t happen when the person in front of me is dishonest.
43
LUCA
