His mouth drops open before he slams it closed and rushes to correct my assumption. “Of course. I never meant to suggest...” His words trail off and he shakes his head. “Sorry. Please continue.”
I offer a small smile, hoping to convey that I’m not angry. “I started asking around town and stumbled across some information I thought might be of interest to you.”
His eyes narrow and his demeanor shifts from concerned neighbor to Detective West in an instant. “Go on.”
“I got a tip from an eyewitness to Billy’s accident.”
I’m not sure that jumping right into Jenna being dead and pointing him in the exact location of her body is something I’m ready to dive into just yet anyway. I need to slowly feel my way into things with Nick and find a way to circle back to her.
Nick’s back straightens and eyes darken. “An eyewitness? I don’t have any record of an eyewitness.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.” I inhale, giving myself some time to work up the courage to lie with a straight face. “Before you ask, I gave my word to my source they’d remain anonymous.”
He licks his bottom lip. “I understand.”
Something about his posture tells me he plans to attempt to get it out of me either way.
“You see, the night of the accident they’d been drinking heavily, and had no business being on the road. A DUI would’ve resulted in the loss of their job. They did the cowardly thing and left the scene.”
Nick rubs at the back of his head. “Why didn’t they come forward once the alcohol had worn off?”
Good lord, lying is so much harder than I thought it would be.
“I asked the same thing. Again, it comes down to being more concerned about themselves. They were unsure of what their repercussions would be for not coming forward sooner. They were afraid that they would be charged with obstructing justice, so they remained silent.”
He sucks his teeth and taps the table with a closed fist. I wonder what’s going through his head, but realize it’s not important because there is no anonymous source that’s alive and able to corroborate my story.
I can tell by the look on Nick’s face that he’s trying to maintain a sense of cool. I’m sure it’s difficult to hear that a person would be so shallow. He doesn’t know that they exist solely in my imagination.
“What did they tell you about the accident?”
“A red truck ran him off the road. They also mentioned that you should look into similarities between the accidents of Billy Garet and someone by the name of Jackson Moore.”
His head jerks back slightly and his posture stiffens. “Jackson Moore? How does he figure into this?”
“They said that the night of both their murders—” I clear my throat and shake my head, catching my blunder. “I mean deaths, they were both at Clementine’s. My source says both accidents were caused by someone in a red truck.”
He takes a deep breath, head tilting to the side, which seems to be a habit for Nick when he’s considering what’s been said. “Both of those deaths were ruled accidents.”
I move my head around, shrugging my shoulders, attempting to play oblivious. “No idea. I was just told that this person doesn’t believe they were accidents.”
He remains quiet for a few tense seconds, but eventually nods. Another motion he does quite often.
“Does the source think their accidents might’ve been caused by someone who was also at that bar on both those nights?”
There’s the detective I need. Never once did I consider that, and in a matter of minutes, Nick has some additional leads.
“They didn’t mention that, but it sounds like something worth following up on.”
He runs his hands back through his hair. “Why would someone bring this up now?”
He stands and paces the room, appearing to contemplate all that I’ve laid on him. After several minutes of watching this play out, he finally addresses me.
“I really wish I was able to know how you came across this information. There are people who say things for no other reason but to cause issues.”
My shoulders shake. “Are you saying you don’t believe my source? Don’t you see the uncanny similarities? Not only with Jackson and Billy but with my accident?”
His eyes close to mere slits. “What are you saying?”
