Chapter 42
IVY
As soon as school is out, I head to the police station. I debated asking Brooke to see if her dad could get it, but given their relationship doesn’t seem great, I didn’t want to put her in his crosshairs.
When I arrive at the station, the place is packed. However, the line moves relatively faster than I’d expect as the clerk asked how she can help me.
“I requested a report online, but it said it’d be a few days. Can I get a copy now if I request it here?”
“Yes, what’s the case number?”
I relay the information, and not long after, I’m exiting the police station with a hard copy in hand. I wait until I’m in my car before I read through the report.
Everything feels so impersonal and cold. Like they’re describing how to construct their sandwich at Subway and not the account of an accident where someone lost their life. V1 failed to yield to V2. Subject DOA.
Subject? I know it’s just an explanation of the wreck. But it’s sounds like she was a heap of debris in middle of the road that needed to be documented.
The most interesting note is that the truck was towed to a private impound lot with an address listed. Why couldn’t they find the person if they had his whole-ass vehicle? I knew the driver bailed, but they left a big clue to their identity. There has to be some indication on it.
Mapping myself to the tow yard, I find it’s only ten minutes away and drive straight there.
As soon as I open the door, the smell of stale coffee and oil hits me as a gruff voice calls out, “Can I help you, darling?”
I approach the metal desk that the man is sitting behind. “I wanted some information on a truck brought here from a hit-and-run.”
“Case number? Make and model?” he asks, clicking around on a computer that looks older than me as I give him the specifics.
“Yes. It was brought here back in June and crushed a few days later.”
“Crushed?” I repeat.
His entire attitude changes. “Yeah, I remember this one all right. Like I told the bastard before, it wasn’t my call to destroy it. Did he send you?”
“Who? No, nobody sent me,” I stutter. “Who was here?”
He reclines back in his chair, slightly rocking as he tells me, “An asshole, that’s who. I kept his Sierra here as long as I could after he was hauled out of here for assaulting me. I should’ve pressed charges on his worthless ass, but the arresting officer felt sympathetic for the bloke.”
There’s one person I know who drives that truck—Uncle Shawn. “A silver one?”
“Yes.”
“Why was he here?”
“Same reason as you. He was asking about that pickup. Simple fact is the evidence was collected, and the automobile was crushed per police request. We don’t have the space to store every wrecked automobile in the parish for shits and giggles.”
Shits and giggles. Like this is a fucking joke. “Do you have any more information on the vehicle at all? Like maybe a VIN or something that might tell who the owner was? Did they even search for evidence?”
“Yes, dear. The investigators know how to do their jobs. All the numbers were scratched off and there wasn’t any evidence left behind. The detective told me out of his own mouth after that bastard showed up.”
I stand frozen as the man keeps ranting, my mind working to comprehend that the only lead I had is gone.
The man finally stops to take a breather after he adds, “It’s just business. Nothing personal.”
It’s extremely personal for me. “The driver of that truck killed my mother.”
His expression softens a bit. “I’m sorry for your loss. Wish I could give you more, but I can’t.”
Case closed. But I also just opened it. Maybe I should’ve just left it alone rather than be disappointed all over again.
I want to know, but it feels like I’ve lost another piece of her.
Why did I think it’d be better? And once again, why did I think any of this would make a difference?
Even if I find what I’m looking for, she’d still be dead.
“Thanks,” I say, then walk out.
When I pull into Uncle Shawn’s driveway, I’m still replaying the conversation. He never mentioned any of it. Getting arrested for assaulting a guy should be worth a mention.
He waves to me as I walk around to the porch. “Ivy, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“The impound guy said you punched him.”
Uncle Shawn freezes, his shock that I know the fact is clear.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you find anything?”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was trying to find out who was responsible, but it was another dead end. The detective assured me he was still investigating but it seemed like they’d forgotten what was done to her and you.”
“I got the police report. It’s useless.”
“Yes, it is. She’s more than a case number to me. She’s my sister, and I want justice.”
“She’ll never get it.” Would it make this easier if she did? My hunch is no, but I’d like to believe otherwise.
“There’s still hope. I’m not giving up. So, I don’t want you to either.” He’s saying all the right things to give the illusion he’s optimistic, but I can tell he knows it’s hopeless, just like I do.
“Is Grandma doing better?”
“She’s on the mend but has been extremely tired. They already had to tweak her medication again to try and find the right balance.”
“So, I can’t say hi.”
“Perhaps next time when she’s a little more herself. The last few days have been really tough for her. Even Kathleen hasn’t been able to cope with her episodes.”
He’s lying again. He wants to keep me away from Grandma. And I don’t feel like pushing the subject. “Okay.”
“You’re welcome to stay for supper. Kathleen is cooking one of your favorites.”
I don’t even ask what meal he’s talking about and just say, “Maybe next time.”
He’s not being upfront with me. And I need to process the day. That can’t happen when the person in front of me is dishonest.