June blinked. She should have felt awkward. She should have felt embarrassed that she’d even thought about it, but, instead, June felt an unexpected flicker of relief that made her want to scold herself.Good grief, June. What's wrong with you? Who Holt dates, kisses, or has dinner with is none of your concern.
“Oh,” June said, because she did not know what else to say. “Um…” She swallowed as her stupid heartbeat picked up speed, and she hoped that Holt could not hear it.
“Now what were you going to say?” Holt asked June, his eyes boring into hers.
June’s relief evaporated, replaced by the thought again, heavier now that she had given it room to embed itself deeper into her mind.
“Yesterday,” June began, “at the clinic, Victoria came storming in and warned Lucy, whom she at the time mistook for Lacey, to tell Lucy to stay away from Tom.”
“Yes,” Holt said, nodding. “Tom mentioned that.”
“Having witnessed the scene, I can tell you that Victoria was hostile and even threatening to Lucy, whom she thought was Lacey,” June pointed out. “And now knowing that Victoria was the one who was driving Clive’s car and the way she ordered the rush crush…”
“Go on,” Holt encouraged, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening as if he’d already guessed where June’s line of thought was going.
June’s pulse picked up again. She could feel her throat go dry, because even though her gut was screaming at her that it was possible, she still didn’t want to believe anyone would be capable of such a terrible act.
“What if Victoria,” June said slowly, “that is, if she was the one driving Clive’s car, if she did so thinking that Lacey was Lucy?”
Holt’s face went still. Not blank, not confused, but stone cold.
June felt a chill ripple up her spine.
“You’re saying that it wasn’t an accident and that, thinking Lucy was in the truck, Victoria deliberately ran her off the road,” Holt reframed her words.
“I said what if,” June stated clearly. “And that is if it was Victoria that hit Lacey’s truck.”
The words landed between them like a weight.
June swallowed hard as the implications hit her more fully now that Holt had said it out loud. It was the same thought that had nagged at her since Holt told her the driver was allegedly Victoria, the same thought June had tried to smother because it felt too cruel to be true.
Her jaw clenched. June shook her head, trying to dislodge the picture forming in her mind.
Surely not. Surely even Victoria would not be that vindictive. Victoria was a snob. Victoria was cold. Victoria was selfish. June had known those things for years. But attempted harm was something else.
“No,” June said, more firmly than she felt. “I’m sure that’s not right.”
Holt did not speak. He watched her, his eyes steady.
June tried to reason through it like she would in a courtroom. Facts. Patterns. Plausible explanations.
“Maybe she did hit a tree,” June said. “Maybe she really is covering it up because she knows how it looks, and she’s trying to protect herself.”
Holt’s expression did not soften.
“Maybe.” Holt nodded, but his tone was not convinced.
June pressed on, needing to hear her own logic. “I’ve seen Victoria drive, and she’s always distracted. You know, on her phone or checking her reflection. Just the other day, Victoria flew past me and was looking in her mirror while she was driving.”
Holt’s mouth twitched, and he almost smiled.
“I’m not sure what to think,” Holt said. He reached for the door handle, then paused and looked at her again. “But now that you’ve mentioned what you have, I can’t discount it.”
June’s stomach tightened. Because Holt was right. Once the thought existed, once it was spoken, it could not be unsaid.
“I hope she really did hit a tree and is covering it up,” June said, her voice quieter. “Because the alternative is… ” She blew out a breath. “—is heinous.”
Holt opened the door and stepped out. He walked around to her side and held the passenger door open.
