16 #3
The blue car, not surprisingly, shuddered to an abrupt halt on the impact, and Lyssa, turning to look over her shoulder, saw a tall man starting to get out of the driver’s door.
As he did so, the 4x4 wrenched itself free and continued the turn to shoot past him and also Lyssa, who had now come to a full stop on the side of the road, with two of her tyres perched precariously close to the edge of the ditch.
There was so little room, the 4x4 scraped its way down the whole length of her car as it went by, making sparks fly, and Lyssa clamped her head over her ears at the awful sound it made.
Then it was revving away out of sight down the narrow lane and there was an eerie period of silence. Her door was abruptly opened, and Lyssa turned to look at the man from the blue car.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her urgently.
‘Neville?’ she said faintly.
The police came barely ten minutes later, as did a paramedic.
Neither Neville nor Lyssa had been cut by glass so weren’t actually bleeding, although Lyssa had some bruising across her chest where her seat belt had dug in during the various shunts and knocks.
Neville had the same issue from ramming the 4x4.
The paramedics were satisfied that there were no head traumas or broken bones, and recommended they go to A&E if, at any point, they experienced giddiness or nausea.
Lyssa was suffering from shock, and they recommended that she drink plenty of hot sweet fluids and put an electric blanket on her bed if she had one or slept with some hot water bottles if she didn’t.
The police breathalysed them both – with negative results – then took their witness statements, with Neville describing the name and make of the 4x4, but when asked he claimed not to have had the presence of mind to make a note of the number plate.
Which was a lie, for he had it memorised.
The police seemed to think that the driver of the 4x4 had panicked after he’d shunted her and had wanted only to get away from the scene, and Lyssa, who was sure that there had been much more to it than that, felt too numb and shocked to explain right now.
She just wanted to get home and curl up on her sofa and cry and . . . think.
When a kindly constable asked her if she could remember the number plate of the other vehicle, Lyssa shook her head helplessly and wearily. But all the time she was answering their questions, and submitting to the examination of the paramedics, her eyes stayed warily on Neville.
Although he’d said, whilst waiting for the emergency services to arrive, that he often used the same shortcut himself during rush hour, and it was a total coincidence that he’d been driving by, Lyssa didn’t believe him. Maybe she was becoming paranoid, but she just didn’t believe him.
She had called Carter once she’d got her breath back and told him what had happened and asked him if he could come and pick her up and was glad to know that he was on his way.
Now she took the card of a tow-truck company that the police handed out to her and promised to call them right away.
They agreed that Neville’s vehicle was still roadworthy enough to drive but warned him to get it to a garage immediately he got to Oxford.
Lyssa was very relieved when she heard the familiar throaty roar of Carter’s sports car approaching before the police car finally drove away. Neville, watching her, saw the play of emotions cross her face, and knew he’d lost her trust, and cursed quietly.
Now he stared in unhappy silence as Carter pulled up, dashed out and ran across to Lyssa, who was sitting sideways on the driver’s seat of her beaten-up car, leaning out with her feet on the road, and staring shakily down at her shoes.
He squatted down in front of her, and for a few minutes, Neville could hear only the quiet murmuring of their voices.
Once or twice, Carter turned to look at Neville. Suspicion was written clearly on his open face. Grimly, Neville waited. Eventually, Carter walked over to him. Before he could speak, Neville said quietly, ‘I’ll wait here for the tow truck, shall I? Have you called them yet?’
‘I’ll do it in a minute,’ Carter said, glancing at the card Lyssa had passed on to him. ‘I’ll take her home now. I’m going to call Freida – she’ll come over and stay the night with her. I’ll probably sleep on the sofa too.’
It was a definite warning. Neville sighed inwardly but nodded his head, trying to look and sound as non-threatening as possible. ‘Sure. The paramedics said if she got dizzy or felt sick that she should go to A&E. Other than that, paracetamol and plenty of hot drinks. No alcohol.’
Carter met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Right – we’ll see to it.’
He turned and went back to Lyssa, picking up her bag and then walking her solicitously to his car and helping her into the low-slung seat. Then he locked up her now abandoned car, and handed the keys wordlessly to Neville.
Neville watched as the sports car turned around and roared off. Then he swore graphically and reached for his mobile. He scrolled down and speed-dialled a number. ‘We need to meet. You have to come to Oxford right now. There have been developments.’
He checked both ways to make sure that there were no cars approaching, then walked over to Lyssa’s car and used the keys to open it.
The first thing he saw was the A4 envelope that had fallen off the passenger seat and into the floor well, and he knew that Lyssa must have been very shocked indeed to have forgotten all about this, and definitely not thinking straight.
Quietly he reached forward and picked it up, folding it carefully in half, and slipping it into the large pocket on the right-hand side of his jacket.
After searching the rest of the car, and finding nothing more of interest, he carefully locked it up and returned to his own car to wait for the tow truck.