Long Drive Home by Will Allison Read Free Book Online Page A

fingers.”
    “Amazing.” Liz glanced at his notepad on the table, clearly wishing he’d get on with it.
    “Let’s see,” he said, taking out a pen. “Meant to ask you Thursday night, Mr. Bauer—were you acquainted with the victim?”
    “No.”
    “Ever seen him before?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “Recognize his car?”
    “No.”
    And before I had time to worry he’d found out about our first encounter with Juwan, he was on to the next question.
    “Was he driving in an erratic fashion prior to the accident?”
    “He was going fast.”
    “But not weaving?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “Did he use his horn?”
    “No.”
    “Any debris in the street—tree limbs, garbage cans?”
    “No.”
    “What about cats or dogs?”
    “No.”
    Rizzo jotted a few notes and capped his pen. He said thanks, that was all he needed. Draining the last of his coffee, he stood to leave. “Oh,” he said. “Long as I’m here, would it be okay if I talked to Sara?”
    Now it all made sense, why he’d stopped by instead of just calling. There was no way to put him off that wouldn’t have looked like I was hiding something. Speechless, I turned to Liz. She was the one who saved the day.
    “I’m sorry, Detective,” she said, lowering her voice. “We feel like Sara’s been through enough. As it is, we’ve got her seeing a therapist.”
    The detective nodded in an understanding way. He could appreciate how we felt, he said—he had a daughter too, lived with her mom down the shore. “But Sara might have seen something important, without even realizing it.”
    Liz nodded back in her own understanding way, assuring him that of course we’d call if Sara mentioned anything. Then she handed him his umbrella. Seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere, the detective forced a smile. “Good enough for me.” Then he glanced toward the top of the stairs. I turned to see that Sara had been spying on us. “Keep up the good work, Junior Detective,” he said.
    “Why can’t I talk to him?” Sara said, after he was gone.
    Liz and I looked at each other. Who knew how long she’d been up there or what she’d heard?
    “Because,” Liz said, “he wants to ask you questions about the accident, and we don’t think that’s a six-year-old’s job.”
    “But what if I want to?”
    “Sorry, honey,” I said. “It’s not up to you.”
    Rizzo’s car was still out front, an unmarked black sedan. He’d gone across the street to secure a corner of the tarp that had blown loose. Seeing him out there in the rain fussing over the memorial gave me a bad feeling. After he left, I went back down to the basement. I had the shop vac going when I noticed Liz standing there with a hand on her hip.
    “Well?” she said, when I turned the vac off. “Want to tell me what really happened?”
    Liz and I met playing buck-a-trick, buck-a-bump dorm Euchre during our freshman year at Case Western—a pilot’s son from Covington who liked to bluff, and a full partner’s daughter from the Main Line who would take a bluff—if it fooled her and she lost the trick—as a personal offense. By the end of the second semester, we were sleeping together and done with Euchre, which had gotten too cutthroat between us.
    Now, facing her in the glare of the basement’s bare bulbs, I knew it was time to put at least some of my cards on the table. And so I told her a percentage of the truth, enough of it for her to understand why I didn’t want Sara talkingto the detective. I didn’t mention trying to scare Juwan, or having been scared by him. I just said I’d started to turn in front of him before I realized how fast he was going. Liz bit her lip, studying me, and I knew what a stranger I must have seemed to her then. We’d known each other for eighteen years and been married for ten. She shouldn’t have had to wonder whether she could trust me about something so important.
    “So you’re saying the accident was your fault?”
    “Probably,” I