Chapter 22 Holt
HOLT
Holt was still agitated by Victoria Morrison.
He’d never liked that woman. She’d once started a rumor that they had dated when they were fourteen.
Holt knew it was so long ago that he should just let it go, but he couldn’t.
The audacity of Victoria Morrison always astounded him.
He sighed and turned back to the case he’d offered to help with.
A case that he was beginning to believe more and more was connected to the tragic fire of ten years ago.
A knock at his door had him glancing up. Terry from the front desk was standing there with a cup of coffee and a turkey rye sandwich from the Teacups coffee shop and bakery.
“Margo sent over some coffee and a late lunch,” Terry told him. “These are for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” Holt said gratefully as his stomach did a low growl seeing the food. “I’ll stop by Margo’s later and thank her.”
“Margo is great. One of the town’s true treasures,” Terry told him, placing the items on his desk. “If you need help with the case, please let me know. Chief Morrison told me I could help you if you need it.”
“Thank you, Terry,” Holt told her. “I may take you up on that.” He glanced at the door. “Is Rad in yet?”
“He’s not in the office,” Terry told him. “Detective Dillinger is on a call at a house on Point Drive. The Kincaids had a car stolen.”
“Oh!” Holt said, reaching for the coffee and sandwich. “Are they sure it’s not one of their raucous teenage sons taking it on a joyride again?”
Terry laughed. “No, the Kincaid twins are at college in Miami now.”
“That’s why the town seems a lot quieter this summer,” Holt said with a grin, thinking of the delinquent twins.
“Yes, Chief Morrison said the same thing,” Terry told us as the phone rang. “Excuse me.”
Holt nodded, and Terry left as he tucked into his meal, compliments of Margo. She really was a town treasure and reminded him so much of Lucy at that age. He’d just finished his sandwich and was sipping his coffee, scanning the files, when he heard a scramble coming from the office.
Not long after that, the wail of emergency sirens from next door at the fire station cut through the afternoon quiet like a blade, immediately followed by the urgent scatter of footsteps and radio chatter from the police station.
Holt sat straight and put his coffee down.
He automatically grabbed his jacket and rushed outside to see what was happening.
Holt spotted Willa running toward one of the fire department’s emergency vehicles that Willa drove.
“Willa, what is going on?” Holt called out, jogging to catch up with her. “Is there another fire?”
“No,” Willa said tersely, pulling on her gear as she moved. “There is a single vehicle accident about three miles out on Miller Creek Road.”
“Oh?” Holt’s brows rose questioningly. “Are there any details?”
“Yes, the driver of the vehicle managed to call it in.” Willa yanked the door of the car open.
“What happened?” Holt asked.
“A truck has gone over the embankment,” Willa explained and looked at him. “The driver is Dr. Lacey Peltz.”
Holt didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming with you.”
Willa didn’t even bother to argue with him; she simply nodded toward the passenger side of her emergency response vehicle.
The drive to the accident site was tense and silent except for the radio chatter coordinating the various emergency teams converging on the location.
Holt found himself studying the passing landscape with the analytical eye that had served him well throughout his career, noting the narrow curves and steep drop-offs that made this stretch of road particularly treacherous.
When they arrived at Miller Creek Road, the scene was controlled chaos.
Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cruisers lined the narrow road, their flashing lights creating an urgent kaleidoscope against the late afternoon sky.
The accident site was clearly marked by the gap in the guardrail where Lacey’s truck had gone through.
Holt approached the edge of the embankment and looked down at Lacey’s overturned pickup truck, which had rolled several times before coming to rest against a cluster of pine trees about thirty feet down the slope.
The rescue teams were already working to stabilize the vehicle and extract the driver.
Rad was down there with another officer, and they were examining the path the car had rolled.
“Lacey was lucky. It could have been much worse,” Willa said, joining him at the guardrail. “If those trees hadn’t stopped her roll, she would have gone straight into the creek.”
Tom arrived with Lucy just as Holt began his preliminary assessment of the accident scene. The police chief looked grim as he surveyed the damage to the guardrail and the skid marks on the asphalt.
“Willa, Holt,” Lucy greeted and stopped beside Willa. “I need to get down there.”
“I’ll take you,” Willa told her. “But we need to get you into safety gear first.”
Willa walked Lucy away as Holt turned to examine the accident skid.
“What do you think?” Tom asked, noting Holt’s focused examination of the roadway.
“I think we’re looking at more than a simple loss of control accident,” Holt replied, pointing to the evidence he’d been cataloging. “See these skid marks? They start well before the curve, suggesting Lacey was already braking hard before she reached the turn.”
Tom knelt beside him, following Holt’s finger as he traced the tire marks on the pavement. “Could be she saw something in the road, maybe an animal.”
“Maybe,” Holt agreed, “but look at this.” He moved farther back along the road, indicating a second set of tire marks, faint but still visible. “These marks suggest another vehicle was traveling at high speed and braking suddenly right around the same location.”
“You think another car was involved?” Tom asked, his expression darkening.
“I think it’s a strong possibility,” Holt confirmed. “And if that’s the case, we’re looking at a hit-and-run at minimum, possibly something more deliberate.”
Their investigation was interrupted by the sound of another vehicle arriving at the scene. Holt looked up to see June climbing out of Carmen’s sedan, her face pale but determined as she hurried toward the accident site.
Holt immediately moved to intercept her. “June, you shouldn’t be here. This is an active emergency scene.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” June said firmly, though Holt could see the tension in her shoulders and the way her hands trembled slightly. Being at another car accident so soon after her own trauma couldn’t be easy for her.
“At least keep a safe distance,” Holt said gently, understanding her need to be there for Lacey while also wanting to protect her from additional emotional stress.
June nodded and moved back toward the road, but a few minutes later she approached him again, her expression troubled.
“Holt,” she said softly, “you need to look at Lacey’s car more closely.”
Something in her tone made Holt give her his full attention. “What did you see?”
“I’m no expert,” June said, her brows furrowed, “but it doesn’t make sense that Lacey’s rear bumper is so badly crumpled if she just lost control and rolled down the embankment, right?”
Holt felt his pulse quicken. June had always been an excellent observer of details that didn’t add up. During their marriage, she’d helped him analyze test cases for his law enforcement training, and her analytical mind had always complemented his investigative instincts perfectly.
“Show me,” Holt said.
“I might be wrong,” June told him. “As I can only see it from up the embankment. But I know her truck’s bumper wasn’t crumpled as I helped her pack it before she went to see the Hendersons’ foal.”
“Come on,” Holt said. “Let’s get you some protective gear, and I’ll take you down there.”
“Really?” June said, and he nodded.
They went to one of the fire trucks, and they were given some spare gear that was a little big for June, but she looked so cute.
Holt hid his smile and pushed his thoughts aside.
When they were done, he led them to a safe space, and they walked carefully down the slope toward where the rescue teams were working.
They paused at a safe distance as Carmen and her EMT team carefully extracted Lacey from the driver’s seat. The rescue had taken nearly an hour, but Lacey was conscious and talking, which was an encouraging sign.
“Look at the bumper,” June said quietly. “Does that look like it was done during the roll down the embankment?”
Holt eyed it out and shook his head. “No, I don’t think it was.” He called Rad, and his son came over.
“Dad, June,” Rad greeted them. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
Holt ignored his warning and pointed to the bumper. “Have you examined the vehicle?”
“We’re waiting to,” Rad told them. “Why?”
“Pay particular attention to the back bumper,” Holt told him.
“Yeah, I saw that,” Rad told him. “It goes with my thoughts that there was another car involved from the skid marks above.”
Holt felt his chest fill with pride for his son and was distracted as they watched, held breath, as they secured Lacey to a backboard and prepared to transport her up the embankment. Despite some obvious cuts and bruises, she appeared to be in relatively stable condition.
As the rescue team lifted the stretcher, Lacey’s eyes found Holt among the crowd of emergency personnel. “Director Dillinger,” she called out weakly. “Holt…”
Carmen visibly stiffened as Holt and June approached the stretcher. “Lacey, you need to stay calm and conserve your energy,” the EMT captain warned.
“I need to speak to Holt,” Lacey insisted, then glanced around the group of first responders. “Is Chief Morrison here?”
“He’s at your vehicle with Rad,” June told her gently.
“I’m here, Lacey,” Holt said, moving closer. “That’s quite a scare you gave us.”
“Lacey, Carmen,” Lucy’s voice echoed from behind them. “Clear some space around her, please.” She looked at the EMTs. “Take her up.”