The headlights lit me up from behind, and I turned, squinting into the glare.They had their high beams on, and they were speeding up even more.Uneasiness shifted through me because that didn’t seem normal.As I watched the vehicle approach, a feeling of dread formed in the pit of my stomach.The car was veering off the road and onto the shoulder.I was on the shoulder.The car was coming right for me.
My brain seemed to short-circuit as I grasped what was happening.I wasn’t sure if the driver just didn’t see me or what was happening.But judging by the speed and the trajectory of the car, if I didn’t move out of the way, I was going to get hit.Raw panic took over, and I threw myself to the right, toward the ditch.Unfortunately, I didn’t move fast enough.
The vehicle clipped my left side, slamming into my hip and ribs.I cried out in pain and shock as my feet left the ground and I was thrown, smashing down onto the ground with a sickening thud.The scent of oil and exhaust filled my nostrils as I rolled, gravel tearing through my jacket.My head bounced off something hard at the bottom of the drainage ditch, and the world went white, then red, then a high-pitched ringing that swallowed every other sound.
I was in shock as I lay there, struggling to pull in a breath.My ribs felt like they were on fire, and my head was throbbing.I realized I was in the ditch.Cold water was seeping through my clothes.I saw stars above me, the same stars I’d been admiring thirty seconds ago.
I could hear the sound of the car that had hit me fading into the distance.They had to have known they hit someone, but they hadn’t stopped.I hadn’t once heard the sound of brakes, only acceleration.I tried to move, and my body screamed at me.My left side felt both numb and like I was engulfed in flames.I was dizzy, and when I touched my face, my fingers came away wet.I couldn’t tell if it was blood or ditch water.
My phone was in my jacket pocket.I needed to reach it and get help.My right hand was shaking badly, but I got it into the pocket and pulled the phone out.The screen was shattered, but it lit up, casting a fractured glow across the ditch.The first person I thought of calling was Declan.But then I realized I should call 911 instead.The ground was so fucking cold and hard, I felt a bit sick.I wanted to close my eyes and just leave this situation however I could.
No.No.No.
Through blurry eyes, I tried to focus on my cell, attempting to hit the buttons to make a call.But my fingers weren’t working properly.I tried again, gritting my teeth and swearing under my breath, but the phone slipped out of my hand.It landed face-up in the shallow water beside me, its broken screen flickering.
“Shit,” I grated out, staring at the phone.I tried rolling toward the phone, but that was too fucking painful, and with a groan of agony, I stopped trying.I’d never been in so much pain.I was struggling to breathe because it expanded my lungs, which was torture.
Somewhere up the hill, I heard a car.Terror roared through me.What if it was the driver coming to finish me off?Headlights washed over the trees behind the ditch.An engine slowed.A door opened.I didn’t know what to do.There was no way I could defend myself.
“Oh my God!”A woman’s voice, panicked.“Are you okay?Hello?Can you hear me?”
Relief washed through me.I tried to answer, but what came out wasn’t words.Just a groaning sound.
“Don’t move.I’m calling 911.Don’t move, okay?You’re going to be okay.”
I lay there in the ditch, looking up at the glittering stars through the branches of the Sitka spruce.I listened to the woman on the phone giving the dispatcher my location.My thoughts were scattering, going soft at the edges.The pain was also softening as my body became numb and my eyes grew heavy.I tried hard to keep my eyes open, but it was too difficult.
With a groan, I stopped fighting, and gave in.I closed my eyes, and then there was nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Declan
Driftwood Coffee was quiet when I walked in around 11:00 a.m.that morning.The breakfast rush had cleared out, and it was that dead stretch between the early crowd and the lunch trickle.Two women sat in the corner booth sharing a muffin, and an older guy was reading a paperback by the window as he sipped his coffee.The daily special was written on a chalkboard in Lena’s writing: TOSTED ALMOND LATTE.She’d spelled the first word wrong again.She made great coffee, but spelling wasn’t her forte.
Lena was behind the counter, restocking paper cups.She was a compact woman in her sixties, with dark hair streaked silver, reading glasses on a chain around her neck, and the kind of face that always looked like it was about to smile.She spotted me, and her expression shifted into something more guarded.She’d been expecting me.Bree had called ahead to be sure she’d be available to talk to me.
“Chief Hale.”She set down the cups.“You want a coffee?”
“I’d love one, just a little cream.”
She poured the coffee, added some cream, and slid it across the counter.When I reached for my wallet, she waved me off.“On the house.”
“I appreciate that, but I’d rather pay.You work hard for your money.”
“So do you, Chief.”
I smiled.“Yes, but this is also sort of an official visit.”
Her smile faded.“Oh, that’s true.”
I picked up the coffee and handed her a five-dollar bill.Normally, I might’ve told her to keep the change, but I didn’t want it to look like I was paying her for information.When she handed it back, I dropped a dollar into the tip jar near the register.
“Is there somewhere we can sit that’s a little more private?”
She glanced at the two women in the corner and the guy with the book.“Give me a second.”She called a young woman from the back to cover the counter, then led me to a small table near the rear of the shop, tucked behind a shelf of bagged coffee beans and local honey.It wasn’t exactly private, but it was out of earshot if we kept our voices down.
She gave an apologetic smile.“I’d usually take you to my office, but we’re doing inventory tonight, and it’s a wreck in there.”
