Chapter 61. Brynn
brYNN
“Y-you don’t understand,” I stammer. “The night of the accident, I ignored my phone when it vibrated in my pocket. I thought my mom was calling to say they weren’t coming. I wish I’d answered, told them I loved them . . . one last time,” I croak.
Clive leans back, folding his arms. “That was the first call. I asked for your phone to confirm the second call, from Cody’s cell. According to your phone’s records, it went through and the call lasted about a minute.”
Dahlia’s head swings in my direction, her hair concealing her half-smile from the detectives.
My stomach lurches. “I-I thought it was a pocket dial. He never spoke.”
“Um . . .” Dahlia stuffs her hands under her legs, her head bowed.
“Cody was in bad shape when we got him to the car, but he was able to tell us it was your parents in the other car—he then asked to call you. I held his phone to his ear.” She gives me the stink-eye.
“You yelled at him for taking too long.”
I can feel Simone watching me.
“I-I was upset. But then he didn’t say anything, so I hung up.” I glare at Dahlia. “You could have told me he was in trouble.”
Her icy green eyes stab back. “Cody was crying. He closed his eyes and nudged the phone away. I ended the call. He didn’t deserve you ripping into him.”
“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HAD HAPPENED!” I press my hand to my chest, holding in the rising pain.
“I was making sure Cody had everything he needed for our set—running around like I always did, double-checking the equipment, ensuring the guitars were tuned. Cody never trusted the roadies to do it right. It was up to me to make sure everything went like it should. Like our teachers at LaGuardia instilled in us: Leave nothing to chance and make it your best. Always.” I catch my breath, my heart races.
“When his guitar string snapped, I blamed myself for not having an extra pack on hand. He liked a particular brand of strings. He insisted on running to the music store in Dobbs Ferry. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back. That was the plan.”
“Plan?” Simone’s eyebrows fly high.
I slump in my seat, spent. After a moment, I stare off like I do when I’m alone in the coffin, confessing to the walls and the drips in the kitchen sink.
“He said, ‘The sooner I go . . .’ and I replied, ‘The sooner you’ll be back.’ It’s just a game we played.
He planned to get back in time. That night meant everything to us. ”
“You initiated this plan?” Simone leans closer.
“No, I-I . . . Cody did.” Wait, what am I saying?
“So, you two talked about it. He’d be the one to carry out your wishes. Did he cause the accident, then attempted to save them?”
I return their stares.
“Holy . . . shit.” Clive’s head slips off the hand propping it up. His chewed pen falls from his mouth onto the cement floor.
“No, I would never tell him to do that! I loved my parents. Dahlia said they saw the car after it rolled, remember? I’m not surprised Cody tried to save them.”
Simone presses her lips together. “So you think he knew it was them?”
“I’m not sure.” I shake my head slowly. “I do know that Cody needed people to like him. My parents still weren’t speaking to him. And their car was super recognizable. It may have been the reason he tried to help that night—he wanted to gain their respect.”
Dahlia’s chin drops to her chest. Her shoulders shake.
I face her. “You said it yourself, Cody liked being a showman. Maybe he needed to show my parents what he could do.”
Simone pages through the police report.
Clive returns to his chewing.
A horn sounds. Dahlia blows her nose into a tissue.
I take a breath and reopen my bag. “I loved him. I didn’t know if I should give these to you and I’m still not sure they prove anything, but I found them in a box of Cody’s things.
” My hands tremble, sliding the news articles toward Simone.
“One talks about those Bronx teens who rescued a mother and daughter last year from a burning car. The other one is about a passerby who awoke a family one night when he saw smoke billowing from their home. Turned out, he’d once dated their son .
. . and was the one who had set the fire to begin with. ”
Dahlia covers her mouth and eyes the detectives’ faces.
“Hm, interesting.” Simone scans the articles. “For now, we don’t have any further questions. We’ll be in touch.”