“It is.”
“What about those cameras on the streetlights? I remember some of those when I lived in Des Moines.”
“We had some shots, but the assailant was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and a mask. We suspect a teen or a woman.”
“Why?”
“Based on the traffic cam images, the driver was between five feet and five-foot-five inches.”
“That’s a lot of people,” Nate points out.
“It is,” Detective Morris agrees.
“Do you think they did it on purpose?”
“Nothing conclusive yet, but yes, we fear it may have been intentional.”
“Wow.” Interesting. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who hated Celeste. Knowing her, she probably made enemies wherever she went. Hell, it could be her hairstylist or the poor woman who did her nails every two weeks. I witnessed, firsthand, early on in our marriage, how she treated people in the service industry. She was awful.
“If I have any additional questions, I’ll let you know.”
“You have my contact information?”
He looks down, then up at me. “That was provided to us, yes.”
Nate mutters “Fucking Travis” again, and I have to agree with his assessment. Travis is a sneaky snake, for sure.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Nate
The women sleptall the way back to Oakbrook. Probably for the best. Laura tried to talk my girl into getting drunk in the car, but after everything happened, like getting questioned by the police, she wasn’t in the mood. I don’t blame her. If I’d been with anyone else, I would have yanked that piece of shit Travis right out of the family limo and beat the shit out of him for putting her through that.
I don’t doubt he wanted her there for support because he wasn’t getting squat from his current woman. She barely glanced at the man, and when he cried in the parking lot and reached for her to get a hug or whatever, she turned and walked away from him. Yeah. I could see why a guy might prefer to have someone who isn’t an ice queen.
I wonder of Prudence noticed that? About Barbie. I peek over just as her eyes blink open. “Are we home yet?”
“Another hour.”
“Ugh.” She sits up and wipes the drool from her cheek. Hell, even sleeping with drool, the woman does it for me. “I hate this trip, but it was nice to see my parents.”
“They were cool.” They were. They adored my girl and her best friend and were leery of me at first, but I grew on them.
“My dad thinks you’re the coolest dude.” She snickers. “His words.”
“He wants to buy a bike.”
She rolls her eyes. “He has wanted one forever, but my mom’s terrified of motorcycles.”
“I recommended he check out trikes. They’re more stable.” It’s for old farts, but if it gets ‘em out on the road, more power to them.
“That’s the one with two wheels in back?” She stares down at her phone. Holding up a photo of a Harley trike, she adds, “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” She then surprises me, “I bet I could drive one of those.”
“You could.” I’d rather she always ride on the back of mine, but it’s exciting to hear her say she’d like a bike. “Harley made a new one in blue.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Not blue.”
“Pink?”
