He kisses my nose when I pout.
“I know you’re right. But you bet your life I’ll ask at my next appointment,” I tell him.
He chuckles.
“Well, besides that, I know I wouldn’t want you making love to me if I was in Hendrix’s shoes. Not until we know for sure…”
I groan in frustration. “You’re right.” I pause for a few seconds.
“Will you tell me what you felt?” I ask.
He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I think you know what my heart says. But it’s not just about my heart. Did you feel anything?”
I take his hand and press it over the organ in question. “I feel my heart racing out of my chest trying to connect with yours.”
8
“Thanks for seeing us, Jimmy.”
“I shouldn’t be showing you any of this. I told you that before,” Jimmy says.
“Yeah, but you showed me anyway. She has amnesia and she’s trying to remember anything she can. This might help her.”
Jimmy glances at me sympathetically before handing me a copy of the accident report. As they pull up the traffic cam footage, I read over the report. I pause when it sayswitnesses claim there was a hit-and-run driver.
“So, someone really hit us?” I ask looking up quickly remembering what Hendrix said.
“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” I ask Dash.
He nods. “It’s part of it.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
“Later, I promise. Just process this part first, okay?”
I don’t answer him. My next question is for the officer.
“Are there any leads on this driver? Can you see it on camera? Any paint transfer on the car we were in?”
“You were driving a black Charger Hellcat. The other car was a black Mustang, and it had some sort of makeshift brush guardon it. So, any paint swap would be hard to separate if there was any at all. And yes, we can see the car hit you, but then everything else is out of frame.”
He pulls up the footage and my heart almost stops cold. Lennon’s car appears to have been being tailed. You can see it in different frames. And Dash was right; it looks like someone very skilled was driving. I can see why he’d think I’m Lennon just from this footage.
The Mustang pulls a maneuver landing it in front of Lennon’s car, causing it to swerve and the Mustang to T-bone the driver’s door using all its horsepower to push it and then Lennon’s car is out of frame.
“And no one saw anything?” I ask as my hands shake.
“I’m afraid not. It appears Lennon’s car must’ve hit a light pole and then rolled down an embankment and the driver of the Mustang only stayed out of frame for about two minutes before we clock it on another camera. But then it’s lost in traffic.”
I stand. “No license plate?”
“The driver removed it. We have no leads on that car. We’ve checked body shops in the area and came up empty,” the officer answers.
My gaze swings to Dash. “You knew someone tried to kill me and you kept that information to yourself? Have my parents seen this? Or Hendrix?”
“Your parents have, but not Hendrix. At least, not to my knowledge,” he admits.
I rub my temples as a headache begins to brew beneath the surface.
