Chapter 25
Three days later, Luke's phone rang while he and Grace were loading folding chairs into the back of his truck.
The rehearsal dinner was only six days away.
He glanced at the screen. Unknown number. "Hello?"
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Yes."
"This is Officer Daniels with the Riverview Police Department." Luke immediately straightened.
Grace looked over.
"What is it?"
Luke held up one finger.
"Yes?"
"We have a vehicle registered in your name."
"My truck?"
"Actually, your work van."
Luke frowned.
"Okay."
"It was reported as being involved in a hit-and-run this afternoon."
Grace saw the color drain from his face.
"I'm sorry?"
"The complainant provided your license plate."
Luke looked at Grace.
"I've had the van on a job site all day."
The officer paused.
"Would you be able to come down and verify that?"
"Of course."
Forty minutes later they were sitting in a small interview room. The responding officer spread several photographs across the table. A blue sedan with a scraped rear bumper. Luke looked at the timestamp.
2:17 p.m.
"I wasn't anywhere near there."
The officer nodded. "We've already spoken with your foreman." He slid another sheet across the table. The crew time log.
Six signatures.
Luke's among them.
"We're verifying everything."
Grace let out the breath she'd been holding.
"So this is just..."
"A mistake." The officer smiled reassuringly.
"We get incorrect plate numbers all the time."
He gathered the papers together. "One more question."
Luke nodded.
"Does anyone else regularly drive your company vehicles?"
"No."
The officer hesitated. "The witness described a woman."
Luke frowned.
"A woman?"
"Dark hair."
"Late twenties."
Grace and Luke looked at each other.
The officer continued.
"She apparently got out after the accident, apologized repeatedly, then drove away before exchanging insurance information."
Luke shook his head.
"I don't know who that would be," he lied.
The officer nodded.
"We'll sort it out."
As they walked back toward the parking lot, Grace slipped her hand into Luke's. "What are the odds?"
"I don't know."
He unlocked the truck. "But they're probably better than zero."
Grace laughed weakly. "I appreciate your optimism."
Luke didn't answer.
Instead he stood looking at the police station for a long moment.
"What?" He looked down at her. "I keep thinking..."
He frowned.
"...whoever it was knew my plate number."
Grace stopped smiling.
"Luke."
"It could've been anybody."
"It could."
"But..."
He looked genuinely unsettled.
Grace felt the same chill.
Neither of them said the name.
The following afternoon, Luke stopped by the construction site where his foreman, Rick, was supervising a concrete pour. "Got a second?"
Rick nodded. "Sure."
Luke leaned against a stack of lumber. "Random question."
"Those are usually the dangerous ones."
Luke smiled faintly. "Has Brooklyn ever been out here?"
Rick thought for a moment. "Once."
"When?"
"Couple months ago."
Luke frowned.
"What was she doing?"
"Said she was dropping off sandwiches." Luke remembered.
The crew had worked through lunch to finish a foundation before a storm.
His mother had organized food.
"Anything unusual?"
Rick shrugged. "Not really."
He smiled.
"She walked around talking to everybody."
Luke nodded. "Okay."
Then Rick added casually,
"She asked which truck was yours."
Luke looked up. "What?"
Rick shrugged again. "I pointed it out."
"Why?"
"Said she wanted to leave something in it."
Luke's heartbeat quickened. "What did she leave?"
Rick laughed. "I have no idea."
"I didn't ask."
Luke forced himself to stay calm. "Did you see her put anything inside?"
"No."
Rick frowned. "Why?"
Luke smiled, though it felt strained. "No reason."
That evening, Luke told Grace.
She listened carefully. "It still doesn't prove anything."
"I know."
"But she knew which vehicle was mine."
Grace nodded slowly. "You think whoever reported the plate..."
"I don't know what I think."
He sat heavily on the sofa.
"I'm tired of not knowing."
Grace walked over and sat beside him. "So what do we do?"
Luke looked at her. "We stop guessing."
"How?"
He reached into his jacket pocket. From inside, he pulled out the three anonymous notes.
Then the copied venue worksheet. Then a photocopy of the mistaken RSVP cards. Grace stared at the growing pile. "What are you doing?"
"I'm making a timeline."
"A timeline?" He nodded.
"Every misunderstanding."
"Every coincidence."
"Every anonymous note."
He looked at her steadily.
"If Brooklyn is innocent..."
He laid the final note on the table.
"...the timeline will show it."
"And if she isn't?"
Luke's jaw tightened. "Then I want facts."
Grace looked at the stack of papers.
For months, Brooklyn had survived because every incident looked harmless by itself. Luke had finally realized what Grace had known from the beginning. The truth wasn't hidden inside one moment. It lived in the pattern.