Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Libby turns her watery eyes my way. I’d do anything to wipe the misery off her expression. Break every bone in my own body if it meant I could make hers whole.
“What about rehearsals?” She lifts her arm a fraction. “I don’t know how—”
“It’s okay, Libby,” I soothe. “We’ll figure all that out once you’re out of here.”
“Rehearsals?” the officer asks with a lot of fake enthusiasm packed into his voice. Like he’s talking to a toddler instead of a teenager. He’s probably just trying to be nice. But part of me can’t help thinking he’s trying to lull us into a false sense of security so he can catch us off-guard and trick my sister while she’s vulnerable.
My gaze skips to Hope, who’s watching the whole scene intently.
“Yeah, for the school play,” Libby answers.
The officer nods and flips through his notepad. “Can you tell me a little about what happened?” He stares at her arm.
“We were at my friend Linda’s house and wanted to get some snacks. My friend Mac was going to drive us to Stewart’s.”
“Love their chocolate peanut butter ice cream,” Officer Wade says.
Libby grins. “Me too!”
“So, you’re in Mackenzie’s car?” he prompts.
“Uh, yeah.” Libby slides her gaze to me, then Hope.
“How fast was Mackenzie driving?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” Libby shrugs, then winces. “Not fast. We weren’t even that far from the house yet. There’s this stop sign missing from the intersection—”
“Yeah, I know where you’re talking about.” He shakes his head. “Shoulda been fixed a while ago.” His eyes widen and he glances at Hope. “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Libby’s bottom lip trembles and tears roll down her scratched cheeks. “The truck…it…it just flew through the intersection. Didn’t slow down at all.” Terror widens her eyes as if she’s reliving the accident and I wrap my arms around her shoulders.
“It hit us so hard,” she whispers. “The noise. Loud. We were screaming.” She lifts one hand, rubbing her bruised temple. “I hit my head…I don’t remember anything else.”
She left out the part about me not answering any of her calls or texts. Somehow that makes me feel worse.
The officer flips his notebook closed and tucks it in his jacket pocket. “That’s pretty much what witnesses described.”
“What about Mac?” Libby tips her head back and turns her questioning eyes on me. “And Linda, are they okay?”
“From what I heard, yes.” I cringe at the little red scratches scattered all over her face, fighting off old memories. I can’t afford to lose my shit again. I have to be strong for Libby.
Later, when I’m alone, I can bawl my eyes out.
Hope stands and takes a few steps toward the officer. “We want Libby to get her rest. And Emily’s going to be focused on taking care of her.” Hope gracefully flicks a business card between two fingers toward him. “If you have any follow-up questions, give me a call and we’ll arrange a meeting.”
The don’t try to question my client without me present in her tone is crystal clear.
He stares at the card for a few seconds before taking it and slipping it into his pocket.
“You handling the civil case?” he asks Hope in a lower, more confidential tone. “Could be big since the city knew about that missing stop sign and did fuck all to fix it. Plus the other driver was drunk as a skunk.”
Hope raises an eyebrow. “I don’t practice personal injury law.” She taps her finger against her bottom lip. “But I can think of a few people for Emily to talk to.”
What now?
“You didn’t hear any of that from me,” the guy says, sliding his finger over his lips zipper-style.
Hope holds up her right hand like she’s waiting for a Bible to appear. “Never heard a thing.”
“How’s Rock doing?” he asks. “Business good? Haven’t brought my sled to his shop in a while now. He’s always booked solid.”
A friendlier expression slides over Hope’s face. “He’s added a few new people recently. Including a really talented artist.”
“That’s good news. I’ll have to set something up.” He glances over at Libby and me. “All right. Good to see you, Mrs. North. Get better, Libby.” He offers another good-natured wave and slips into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Hope blows out a breath and drops into her chair again. “Hopefully, that’s the end of that.”
“Thank you so much. I’m so tired I can’t think straight,” I say. “I appreciate you staying.”
“My pleasure. Has anyone told you when Libby’s getting discharged yet?”
“They said soon but that was like eight or nine hours ago.”
“I really want to go home,” Libby whines. “I miss my bed.”
“I know, pudding.”
She sticks out her tongue.
At least my sassy teenager seems to be returning. That has to be a good sign, right?
Hope glances at the clock on the wall over Libby’s bed. “I have to head to Johnsonville City Court. Are you two okay?”