Fruit of the Poisoned Tree by Joyce and Jim Lavene Read Free Book Online

paramedics finally arrived in a loud, busy stream. Sam helped Peggy to her feet as the rescue workers pushed toward them. She could barely hold herself up, numb from the cold. They moved out of the way and stood in the street while the police diverted traffic to the other lanes of the interstate.
    The police officers asked about anyone being hit on the ground by the car. Sam told them he didn’t see anyone. Peggy heard all of it as a dim fog formed around her brain. She watched as they tried to decide how to free Park from the wreck. Firemen took out the Jaws of Life and pried open the metal body of the Lincoln like a can of peas. Paramedics rushed in as soon as he was visible.
    When she looked down, her hand was covered in his blood. Or her blood. She wasn’t sure which. Did she cut herself putting her hand through the window? She knew it was too late when they pulled his mangled body from the car. A doctor, stopped in traffic by the accident, pronounced him dead a little after eleven a.m.
    “Anything you can tell us about how this happened?” Highway Patrol officers joined the group working at the scene and started asking questions. “Where were you when the car came down?”
    “We were in the southbound lane. We saw it happen like everyone else,” Sam answered. “We’re parked on the shoulder over there. We came over here to see if we could help.”
    “He was my friend.” Peggy’s voice wavered as she spoke. She was freezing inside and out. Shock was beginning to set in. Nothing the officer said made any sense to her. “I have to call his wife.”
    “We’ll take care of that, Dr. Lee. You just take it easy, ma’am,” the officer told her after getting her name and address from Sam when she didn’t answer him. “Could you tell from what you saw if Mr. Lamonte skidded off the ramp? Was there ice up there?”
    “We were too far away,” she finally said, more to herself than him. “It didn’t look like he tried to stop at all. The car flew past the barriers. He told me he fell asleep. It wasn’t like him. But that’s what he said.”
    She couldn’t bear to have someone tell her this was his fault. It might come out that way later, but she’d feel more herself by then. At that moment, she felt consumed by the event. She turned away from the officer and tried to focus on something else. Park’s car was squarely in front of her. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
    “I appreciate your help, ma’am. We’ll finish up here if you’d like to leave.” The young patrolman smiled solicitously. He nodded to Sam and walked back toward other witnesses who were standing outside their cars with their arms wrapped around themselves as the icy wind rushed by.
    Peggy stared at the wrecked car, not able to believe her friend was dead. Some crazy notion took hold of her half-functioning brain as she recalled they were supposed to have dinner Friday night. She’d have to call Park’s wife, Beth, and cancel. Or would Beth call her?
    Sam put his warm arm around her shoulder and urged her toward the truck, worry and emotion softening his voice. “Come on. Let’s go. There’s nothing else we can do here. Let’s go back to the Potting Shed and get some tea.”
    Peggy didn’t see the ambulance driver zip the black bag closed over Park’s face. But she heard the sound. It shredded across her skin like a knife. She took a deep breath and held tightly to Sam’s hand. “You’re right. Thanks for staying with me. I’m ready now.”
    Shakespeare was barking and jumping in the cab of the truck. Sam had to push him down on the seat before he could get inside. He held the dog back so Peggy could open her door. The roar of traffic never ebbed. Horns blared and drivers shouted obscenities as they swerved away from them.
    Even after they were safe in the warmth and quiet of the vehicle, Peggy could only stare out the window. She had no words to express the emotions smothering her. She wanted to make polite conversation