Chapter 1 #2
“Owen, Owen,” she shouted as she neared. With every step, her stomach clenched tighter. The accident was more serious than she’d suspected after the other car fled.
The front bumper was crushed and crumpled like an old aluminum can. Broken headlights illuminated the scene. The windshield had shattered. Behind the wheel, Owen slumped forward.
“Owen?” The name was half gasp, half cry.
He lifted his head, his eyes glassy, a cut in his forehead spilling blood down his face. He met her gaze with a startling clarity and then dropped his eyelids.
“Hey, hey, I’m calling for help.” She pulled her cell phone out of her back pocket and held up the screen.
“You stay with me, okay? Stay awake. No going to sleep.” Her fingers fumbled with the phone.
The rain didn’t help, covering her screen with a layer of water and obscuring her touch.
She rubbed the cell on her pants and tried again, finally dialing 9-1-1.
“Liz? No accidents, Liz,” Owen croaked, his voice thick and rusty.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator answered.
For a second, Emma froze. Liz? Her twin sister?
Was he hallucinating? Emma had returned at the urging of her therapist to heal her wounds and reclaim her lost memories.
The pain remained too fresh, overwhelming her every time she tried to think back on the last moments with her sister.
Emma trusted Him but struggled to forgive herself.
“Shh, shh,” Emma cooed. “I’m here, Owen. It’s me, Emma.”
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator persisted.
“Yes, hello.” She choked on the words. “I’m out on Route 14. There’s been a hit and run accident. It’s bad. Near Camp Promise. Please hurry. Bring an ambulance.”
Sheriff Daniel Goodwin preferred being the first on the scene.
As soon as dispatch alerted him to the crash, he raced there.
He parked the patrol SUV, lights flashing, blocking the lane.
Sirens in the distance assured him the ambulance was a few minutes away.
Weather had discouraged traffic so he didn’t need to worry too much about onlookers.
The rain had lightened but not completely lifted when he stepped onto the slick asphalt. The smell of burning rubber remained fresh. With the aid of his headlights, he noted the general overview of the scene.
An older pickup had swerved off the road, leaving tire tracks visible even in the dim light. Whoever had caused the crash tore off immediately after impact. Some distance behind the truck he spotted one of the Camp Promise SUVs on the shoulder.
“Over here, please,” a woman’s voice called, frantic and shaky.
Daniel’s blood froze. Emma? Was she back?
When he’d heard about the camp’s twenty-year reunion, he hadn’t even considered that she’d return.
She rarely visited and only appeared briefly at church during the holidays.
Why come back to mark the anniversary of her sister’s death?
Unless she considered it suspicious, too?
“PLEASE,” Emma shrieked.
With a shake, Daniel grabbed his first aid kit from his vehicle and jogged up the road.
The front of the truck was smashed. A head-on collision.
He didn’t spot fur or blood on the exterior, no tell-tale hallmarks of a deer or other creature.
But he’d already known. Dropping his gaze to the road.
he noticed the treads heading away from the scene in the other lane were even darker here. Definitely a man-made crisis.
“Daniel?” Emma called.
His name was an endearment on her lips. He’d missed her and longed for a day to see her again.
But he’d wanted answers before reuniting.
Trusting in the timing of God meant he hadn’t gone after her when she left for college, despite how much he’d wanted to.
All those years ago, she’d needed space to process how her life had changed.
And now? He wasn’t sure what to think and was disappointed he was no closer to the truth.
“Sheriff Goodwin,” he corrected. He needed to put professional distance between them. For both their sakes.
He reached inside the broken window and opened the door to the truck. With a hand to the driver’s neck, he felt for a pulse. Weak but present.
In the truck’s interior light, Owen Thomas looked like a ghost, drained of life as his head lolled. Seeing someone Daniel had known from childhood incapacitated never got easier. Living in the same small town his whole life meant he inevitably had close ties to both victims and perpetrators.
He cleared his throat. “What happened?”
“It’s Owen. Oh, it’s all my fault. I couldn’t find him, and I called for him at the camp.” Her face paled. “He must have heard me and raced after me.”
“You didn’t crash into him?”
“No, I was run off into a ditch by another car. Or maybe the same one? I didn’t get a good look at either driver.
I ended up on the side of the road before he arrived.
I was annoyed. I didn’t want to be out here in the rain.
Mrs. Thomas asked me to get the cake.” Emma slowed her words, taking in several gulping in big breaths.
“We made eye contact. Owen and I. We locked eyes, and he mouthed to move over. I turned away as the crash happened and ran to him. We spoke.”
Daniel fought the recrimination building on his tongue at their poor driving on a no passing section of highway.
If he hadn’t assessed the front-end damage, he’d blame a lack of road safety for the predicament.
But a car didn’t crumple without impact.
“Explain what happened from the beginning. Slower this time.”
“A faster car zoomed past me. First. Before Owen. I reacted by jerking the wheel and pulling over. Then he came out of nowhere and startled me. The other car slammed into him. It was all so fast. I think… he was targeted. This was deliberate.”
Her words remained rushed but were more coherently delivered the second time. Judging by her sharp, shaky movements, Daniel worried shock had set in.
He reached for the radio on his vest. “Dispatch. This is Sheriff Goodwin. I’m at the scene on Route 14. We need another ambulance. What’s the ETA?”
“On their way. Less than five minutes out,” the operator replied.
Daniel felt for Owen’s pulse again. Besides a superficial cut to the face, Owen wasn’t obviously injured. Moving him without assistance risked serious harm if he had internal bleeding. “Stay with me, Owen. Help is on the way.”
“He’s unconscious and bleeding,” Emma stammered. “It’s not good. He called me Liz…”
“Oh.” Daniel’s reply landed like a fallen tree between them, marking a clear boundary line.
Liz’s death had changed everything and everyone, pushing Daniel and Emma apart at the very moment he’d been determined to tell her what was on his heart.
In one night, the whole world had shifted.
He had struggled to find his footing in the aftermath. “Were you injured? Did you crash?”
She shook her head. “I stopped in time before I hit anything. I’ll probably have a bruise from the seat belt. The SUV will need to be towed out. I was rattled.” She took in a breath, her whole body shaking on the inhale. “He wanted me to stay put. So I did.”
Daniel nodded. Her story was disjointed and disordered. He’d delivered his questions with a rapid-fire pace veering toward unprofessionalism. But in the split second of seeing her, he struggled to remember his duty.
“And then,” she continued, “I think the car came back to hit him. Or it was two red cars? Why would someone intentionally cause him harm? After the crash he said no accidents, Liz. What does that mean? Did he know the driver? Why call me Liz?” She twisted her fingers together.
The siren blared behind Daniel. He was glad to be saved from a response. Speculation was dangerous territory, especially with a scared witness. Her frantic questions worried him.
Investigations—cold case or active—weren’t meant to be shared with civilians.
He wanted to tell her everything he’d learned and what he had long suspected.
Owen was the most dogged amateur investigator he’d ever encountered, constantly sharing tips and theories.
But Daniel couldn’t be sure whether the fervor was meant to find the real culprit or to distance Owen from the rumors of his involvement in Liz’s accident.
The tragic death never lost its horrible grip on the community.
Speculation continued about all involved.