Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Eric walked away from Peter Carmichael knowing in his heart there was far more to Susan’s accident than it seemed. Timothy had paid someone to target Susan and bribed Dean Finley and Todd Levine to cover it up.
Eric drove from the Carmichael estate to where Susan Crawford had lived with Ryan thirty-three years ago.
He’d visit the scene of the accident if he thought it would tell him anything.
But after all this time, good luck. This made him think of the fast destruction order for Susan’s car.
It must have held incriminating evidence.
So had something been done to the vehicle to make it veer off the road? Perhaps the brakes were sabotaged.
He pulled up to Susan’s building and noted it had an underground parking garage. He didn’t bother stopping to get out for a look around. Even thirty-three years ago, the place would have had video surveillance. More than that, the doors were down, and a metal sign was posted on the wall.
Must have a key to raise the door.
That additional safety measure might not have been there over three decades ago, but still. The saboteur would be taking a risk. But if the car wasn’t tampered with here, then where?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to rebuild Susan’s day, but based on the time of the accident, Eric surmised she had picked up Ryan from school not long before.
If the vehicle was compromised at her home, the brakes would have failed before she reached her son.
The same applied if she had left from work.
But all of this speculation wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
He needed to revisit the eyewitnesses, see what they might have to say.
After all, so much of this investigation was messed with.
Had their statements been tampered with, modified to suit a fabricated narrative?
It was a thought that occurred to him now and sent chills through him.
And even if they had, would these people remember the accident all these years later?
Eric drove to the house of the first one on the list and got shot down.
Same for the second one. Both eyewitnesses told him the same thing.
It was a long time ago, and he’d be best to consult whatever notes the officer had made at the time.
His hopes weren’t high that eyewitness number three would tell him anything different.
He knocked on Selma Hatfield’s front door. No answer. He tried again, and a petite woman responded.
“Selma Hatfield?” Eric asked while holding up his badge.
“That’s me.” Her eyes narrowed, cautious and curious.
“Detective Birch. I have some questions about an accident you witnessed thirty-three years ago.” Getting right to the point would alleviate her concerns he was there for another dark purpose such as a death notification.
“That was a long time ago. The MPD is just looking into that now?”
Eric took promise in that response. He might have been too quick to assume this would be another wasted trip. “The case has been reopened, ma’am. The accident involved a woman and her five-year-old son.” He added this tidbit, though he had a feeling it wasn’t necessary to spark her memory.
Selma licked her lips and stepped back. “Yes, well, please, come in. Would you like a tea or coffee?”
Eric entered the house and wiped his shoes. “Coffee would be nice. Thank you.” He had a good feeling that talking to Selma would be worth the time.
“Uh-huh.” Selma took off toward the back of the house and called out, “Just make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Will do.”
The living room was to the right off the entry, and Eric spotted the couch from the doorway.
The soft leather suede material served as a magnet for any stray hairs.
From the look of the fine black hair, he’d guess that Selma had a cat.
A dog would have greeted him at the door.
The cat would be watching him from a hidden cubbyhole.
Eric sat down, and several minutes later, checked his watch. He was eager to get talking with Selma. The only thing giving him patience was the instinct it would be rewarded. She clearly remembered the accident. Now whether any of those memories would help, he’d need to wait and see.
“Here you go. I forgot to ask how you like it, so I brought everything. No cream, though, if that’s your wish.” Selma was holding a tray, and along with two cups of coffee, there was a small milk carton and a bowl of sugar with a spoon.
“I just take it black, but thank you.”
“Uh-huh.” She held the tray for him to grab his cup and then set it on a long coffee table. After taking a seat, she sipped her coffee and looked at him over the top of her own cup. “What has you taking another look at that crash?”
“The boy from that accident is now an adult. He requested the file be reopened. His mother died on scene. Her name was Susan Crawford.”
“Well, I never knew her name, but it was no accident.”
A surge of adrenaline ran through Eric’s body, raising hairs in its wake. “And what makes you say that, ma’am?”
“I saw the whole thing, and I relived it many times over the years. I even had to see a therapist to help me through the trauma. I had expected a quick arrest to be made and was looking for it to hit the papers. It never came.”
A quick arrest… Eric inched forward on the cushion. “Would you tell me what you saw?”
Selma settled back into her chair. “Short and simple of it is that someone ran that poor woman and child off the road.”
Nothing in her statement on file mentioned another vehicle being involved. But if that were the case, it would have inflicted damage on Susan’s car that would need to be hidden. The missing photographs also would have shown evidence of another vehicle. “You told this to the officers at the scene?”
“I told them everything I just told you and more.”
Forget human error at play, there was intention, or Levine and Finley were the most incompetent police officers to ever wear the badge.
“It sounds like you remember that day clearly. Would you be willing to share more of what you saw with me?” Eric set his coffee on the side table and took out a notepad and pen.
“Sure, if it helps, though it should all be part of the record.” She searched his eyes, but when he didn’t speak, she continued.
“I still remember the sound of metal scraping together. It was the most horrifying racket until the poor woman slammed into the pole.” Selma pinched her eyes shut.
“Just saying that, and I’m right back there.
I’m going to need to make an appointment with my therapist to talk about this again. ”
“I’m sorry to be bringing all of this back up for you.”
“If it finally brings someone to account, then it will have been worth it.”
“I’ll do my best.” Eric worked to transcribe all that she had told him into his memo book. “Did you see the person who ran her off the road?”
“I didn’t get a good look. I was across the street and saw him ram into the driver’s side of the car. That’s how I could see the driver, just briefly, mind you. Just enough to say that it was a man. Tall too. Brown hair. His head came close to brushing against the ceiling.”
Eric couldn’t scribble this down fast enough. But as he recorded it all, he didn’t miss that the description didn’t match Timothy Hanson. Though it was more likely a man like him would have paid someone to do his dirty work anyway. “After he ran her off the road, what did he do?”
“He drove away.”
“Just like that? Like nothing had happened?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he had no problem with getting away? He didn’t get caught up in the slush or snow on the road?”
Selma’s eyes narrowed, and her forehead pinched. “There was some around, sure, but that didn’t cause that poor woman to crash.”
Eric grimaced. So much for poor road conditions… What have you done, Todd?
“I’m guessing by that face you just pulled, the record doesn’t say any of this?”
Despite all he was uncovering, Eric still felt some loyalty toward his brothers in blue. To his old mentor even. But his devotion to the badge and what it stood for trumped all. “I may have missed that part.”
Selma held eye contact for a few long seconds before shifting her gaze and sipping more of her coffee.
Eric drank some of his, letting his mind assimilate all that she’d told him thus far, and then put his mug back on the table. “What do you remember about the vehicle this man was driving?”
“It was a white cargo van. Chevy, I think. New at the time.”
“This is very helpful.” Eric let the comment slip as he documented what she said.
“Helpful? But something that should be on record already.”
“Yes.” Eric smiled tightly. “Anything else you can remember about the van? Something distinctive?”
“A logo on the back bumper.”
Eric wrote logo in his notepad.
“It’s come up a lot in dreams,” Selma added.
Eric’s enthusiasm waned some. Dreams weren’t exactly reliable. What if this woman had built the entire accident up into something that it wasn’t? But he shook the doubt aside. Her conviction felt credible. “You dreamed about it, or you saw it in real life at the scene of the crash?”
“Both. As I said, I’ve seen a therapist to discuss that day, and it’s come up in dreams many times.”
Eric looked down where he was swirling ink around the word logo. He stopped. “What was the logo for?”
“Travel Safe, that vehicle rental company. That’s why I was really surprised no arrests were ever made. I thought it would have been a straightforward path to follow.”
It should have been… Thirty-three years ago rental vehicles were clearly marked. On the upside, Travel Safe was still in business. Eric shut his notepad and tucked it and his pen away. Standing, he said, “Thank you for your time, Ms. Hatfield.”
“Sure.”
Eric saw himself out. While the coffee left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, so did this visit. He could only hope the vehicle rental company was as meticulous at keeping records as the auto wreckers.