Annette Dashofy - Zoe Chambers 03 - Bridges Burned

by Annette Dashofy

  “Look. I don’t know what happened between you two, and you sure don’t have to tell me. But it’s like ambulance crew romances. Everything is hunky dory until you have a spat and have to face the other person at work.”

  As if punctuating the point, they blew past the Vance Township Police Department. Zoe noticed Pete’s SUV wasn’t in the lot. It was late enough he should be off duty. In fact, with any luck, she wouldn’t have to face him all weekend. Maybe by Monday, she’d have sorted through this mess and could track him down and apologize.

  Better yet…he could apologize to her.

  Pete encountered stopped traffic and brake lights a half mile back, which was never a good sign. The knot in his stomach cranked tighter as he topped the hill a quarter mile shy of the scene and was treated to his first look at the accident.

  Except for Kevin’s vehicle in Pete’s rearview mirror, there wasn’t an emergency strobe in sight. They were first on2 the scene. A southbound semi was jackknifed across both lanes, blocking Pete’s view. Damn. He hoped the tractor trailer had gotten in that position trying to stop as opposed to having collided with something. Or someone.

  With traffic unable to get through coming from the other side of the crash, Pete cruised along the clear northbound lane, passed the stopped southbound traffic, and braked to a stop on the berm. Kevin parked behind him and met him as he stepped out. The whoop of distant sirens rising above the throaty rumble of idling vehicles told him they wouldn’t have to man the scene alone for long.

  A few of the cars had shut off their engines and their occupants stood together in the road, talking in hushed tones. With Kevin on his heels, Pete jogged around the semi, noting the heavy black skid marks on the pavement as the trucker had made every effort to stop.

  Besides the tractor trailer, three other vehicles with varying degrees of damage littered the two-lane road. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Jack Naeser had nosed his Hyundai out a tad too far in order to see around those hedges. A white pickup had clipped his front fender, knocking the car into Naeser’s yard and sending the pickup into a 180, which left its back bumper rammed against the hillside across the road. A third vehicle, a black Toyota Rav4, must have slammed on its brakes to avoid hitting the truck only to be rear-ended by the jackknifing semi. If obvious damage was any indicator, the entire scene could have been much, much worse.

  A woman remained behind the wheel of the Rav4. A concerned-looking heavy-set man stood at her passenger window and waved at the officers. Pete guessed he was the trucker and motioned to his officer. “Kevin, check them out.”

  “Got it, Chief.”

  The white pickup with the mashed right front fender was empty, so Pete headed for Naeser’s car. A familiar and noisy crowd had gathered next to it.

  Jack Naeser sat on the ground leaning against the Hyundai’s driver’s door. He pressed his left hand to the side of his head, blood trailing down his face. Mrs. Naeser was on her knees next to him, weeping. Ryan Mancinelli, the hedge-loving son-in-law, stood over him, bellowing at Ashley, who raged right back at her husband. A tall man Pete didn’t recognize stood holding a cowboy hat and looking like he’d pay a small fortune to be anywhere except where he was at the moment.

  Pete waded into the middle of the group and summoned his take-charge voice. The one that cut through most turmoil. “Ryan. Ashley. Give it a rest.” They both fell quiet, and Pete knelt beside the Naesers. “Jack? How bad are you hurt?”

  Naeser lowered his bloodied hand to reveal a gash above his left temple. “I don’t know. Must’ve whacked my head pretty good when that guy creamed me.”

  “I’m really sorry,” the cowboy sputtered, worrying the rim of his hat. “He pulled out smack dab in front of me. I never even had a chance to hit my brakes until it was too late.”

  “It’s those damned hedges,” Mrs. Naeser said, her voice shaky.

  “Look,” Ryan Mancinelli said, “I told you how awful I feel. What more do you want me to say?”

  And then Mancinelli’s wife and mother-in-law launched into a renewed tirade about hedges being more important than Naeser’s life and stubborn jackasses and would-haves and should-haves.

  The cowboy clearly would have preferred to face a raging bull. He took a big step back.

  Pete’s take-charge voice wasn’t going to cut it. He stood, brought his finger and thumb to his lips and let loose with a piercing whistle that silenced everyone. He pointed to Mancinelli and his wife then to their house. “You two go wait on your porch. I’ll talk to you shortly.”

  Chagrined, they nodded and headed away. Mancinelli reached for his wife’s arm, but she jerked it free. Pete shook his head. Happily ever after? Yeah. Right.

  From the sounds of the sirens winding down on the other side of the jackknifed semi, he guessed medical help had arrived. He looked at the cowboy. “How about you? Are you hurt?”

  “No, sir, I’m fine.”

  “I need to talk to you as soon as we get Mr. Naeser taken care of.”

  The cowboy gave his pickup a dejected glance and sighed. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  Pete checked the progress of the emergency medical response and spotted Zoe and Earl speaking with the driver of the Rav4 through her window.

  Zoe. Damn it. Every other time they’d worked a scene together, he’d been happy to see her. This evening, he didn’t have the luxury of sorting through the debacle their relationship had become. He had to stay focused on the accident scene. At least it was less messy.

  “Chief?” Mrs. Naeser said.

  Pete squatted next to her and her husband. “Yes, ma’am?”

  The worry in her dark eyes had sparked into anger. “I want you to arrest my son-in-law.”

  “Arrest? Ma’am, I’m afraid not trimming his hedges isn’t against the law.”

  Bitter tears glistened. “I don’t want you to arrest him for not trimming his hedges. I want you to arrest him for attempted murder.”

  “My neck hurts. A little.”

  The redhead behind the wheel of the Toyota Rav4 seemed more scared than injured when Zoe asked her if she was all right. But any indication of possible whiplash couldn’t be ignored. “Anything else? How about your back? Your legs?”

  The woman moved her lower extremities in response. “No. I’m fine. Except for my neck. And it doesn’t hurt much. I’m probably fine. Right?”

  Zoe smiled. “Probably. But you should let us take you to the hospital and get it checked out anyway.”

  The redhead took a trembling breath. “Okay.”

  Earl touched Zoe’s shoulder. “I’m gonna call for a second ambulance. Then I’ll get the collar and backboard and take her vitals. You check on the guy over there.” He motioned toward Pete and a man sitting next to one of the other cars.

  Zoe shot a look at her partner. The last person she’d wanted to see was Pete, and Earl knew that. But he’d turned his back and headed to the ambulance at a trot. Thanks, pal. Payback was gonna be a bitch.

  “You sit tight,” she told the woman in the car. “My partner will be right back. I’m going to see if the gentleman over there needs treatment.”

  Zoe grabbed the jump kit and strode toward the Hyundai with the mashed fender. A man she recognized as Jack Naeser sat on the ground next to his car. Pete was engaged in an intense conversation with Naeser’s wife.

  “There has to be something you can do,” the woman was pleading as Zoe arrived.

  Pete looked exhausted. He met Zoe’s eye for the briefest moment before shaking his head at Mrs. Naeser. “I’m afraid not. Ryan hasn’t broken any law.”

  The woman opened her mouth to reply, but Pete held up a hand. “You help the paramedics tend to your husband. I’ll go get a statement from your son-in-law. That’s the best I can do.”

  If Pete made any gesture to Zoe, she didn’t
see it. Instead, she dropped to her knees beside her patient and gently took his wrist, fingering a pulse. “How are you feeling, Mr. Naeser?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a truck, how do you think I feel?”

  “Jack,” his wife scolded gently. “Be nice.”

  “Can you tell me what happened here?” Zoe asked, as much to determine his cognition as to learn the details of the crash.

  While Naeser spewed his story of overgrown hedges and not being able to see to pull out of his own goddamned driveway, Zoe opened the jump kit and ripped into a stack of sterile gauze pads, using them to blot away some of the blood. Head wounds bled excessively and this one didn’t look quite so bad once she’d cleaned him up a bit.

  She tore into three more of the 4x4 squares and pressed them against the gash. “Hold these.” She took his hand and positioned it over the bandage.

  He winced but obeyed.

  Zoe plucked her penlight from a pocket in her cargo pants to check his pupils. Equal and reactive. Naeser continued his story, and she continued her eval, taking his blood pressure—elevated—and his respirations.

  “Do you have any history of heart disease or stroke?”

  “No,” Naeser barked.

  “Yes,” his wife said. “He refuses to admit it, but he had a TIA a little over a year ago.”

  Transient Ischemic Attack. Mini-stroke.

  Naeser snorted. “I was just overly tired is all.”

  Mrs. Naeser narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what the doctor said.”

  Indignant, Naeser pushed away from the car, drawing one leg in, moving to stand up. “You think I got hit because I had some kind of spell?”

  Zoe put both hands on his shoulders, blocking him gently. “Not at all. I just have to ask.”

  He sat back. “Oh.”

  Zoe added more sterile squares to the blood-soaked ones and opened a package of sterile bandaging. “Are you on any prescription drugs?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know what they are.”

  “I have a list in my purse,” Mrs. Naeser said.

  “Good.” Zoe touched Mr. Naeser’s arm. “Your vitals are fine, but I think you should let us transport you to the hospital to be checked out.”

  “I don’t need an ambulance.”

  She shifted her gaze to the wife. “At the very least, he’ll need some stitches. But head injuries can be serious. You really want to rule out a concussion.” Or something worse. Zoe raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Naeser, hoping the wife got the message without making Zoe say it out loud. She didn’t want to further rile the man if she could avoid it.

  Mrs. Naeser crossed her arms and fixed her husband with a hard stare. “Let them take you in the ambulance, Jack. I don’t want to drive you to the hospital and have you pass out halfway there.”

  The man mumbled something Zoe couldn’t quite make out.

  She hid her smile. Poor Jack Naeser didn’t stand a chance.

  Thirteen

  “Your mother-in-law wants me to arrest you for attempted murder.” Pete dropped the bomb without letting Ryan Mancinelli know the charge was ridiculous. Scare the guy a little. Maybe a little fear, even unfounded, might be what it took to get him to trim those damned hedges.

  “Attempted murder?” Mancinelli’s reaction was exactly what Pete had hoped. Panic. “She—you—can’t do that. Can you?”

  The correct answer was no, but Pete leaned on the Mancinelli’s porch railing and kept mum.

  Mancinelli turned to his wife, who stood at their front door, her arms crossed and shoulders hunched. “You need to talk to your mother. Tell her. I—I never intended—” He waved at the Hyundai and the pickup. “This was just an accident. I never wanted your father to get hurt. I sure didn’t want to murder him!”

  Ashley’s lower lip trembled. Pete wasn’t certain if her tears were a result of anger at her husband or fear for her dad. She uncrossed her arms, although her fists stayed balled, and looked at Pete. “Do it. Arrest him. I’ll give a statement or testify or whatever you need me to do.” She turned on her husband. “Just don’t expect me to post your bail.”

  Anger. Definitely tears of anger.

  She wheeled and slammed through her front door.

  Clearly stunned, Mancinelli stared after her, his jaw slack.

  Pete hadn’t anticipated the wife’s reaction, but decided to go with it. “Look, Ryan. I know you never meant for this to happen. And the court systems are overwhelmed. No one wants to add to the burden.”

  Mancinelli’s mouth had clamped shut—the exact opposite of his eyes—and he nodded then shook his head.

  “The way I see it,” Pete went on with his good cop routine, “you have an easy way out.”

  “I do?”

  Damn, the guy was dense. Or maybe terror had dulled his brain cells. Pete gripped Mancinelli by one shoulder and gave him a wake-up shake. “Cut the hedges.”

  Mancinelli reacted as if the idea was entirely new to him. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I should.”

  “Yeah. You should.”

  “If I promise to trim them will you not arrest me?”

  Pete pretended to give the proposition serious thought. “All right.” He neglected to add he wasn’t going to arrest Mancinelli either way. “I think if you do that, I can even talk your mother-in-law out of pressing charges.” Mancinelli’s wife was another matter, but she wasn’t Pete’s problem.

  Mancinelli blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll do it. I promise. I’ll go get my trimmer right now.”

  “You should wait until we clear the wreckage.”

  “Sure. No problem.” He gazed past Pete and tipped his head. “I think someone’s looking for you.”

  Pete turned to see Zoe striding his way. For a second he forgot they weren’t getting along and smiled, descending the porch steps to greet her. Then the memory of Holt Farabee living under Zoe’s roof slapped the smile off his face.

  “We have a second ambulance on the way.” Zoe hooked her thumbs in the front pockets of her pants and cocked one hip. “The lady in the SUV is complaining of neck pain. Mr. Naeser probably just needs stitches, but I can’t rule out a concussion or a closed head injury.”

  Pete shifted his position to keep an eye on Mancinelli. With the threat of an arrest off his shoulders, the guy had slouched into a chair on the porch. Keeping his voice low, Pete asked her, “Has Naeser’s wife calmed down any?”

  Zoe glanced toward the Hyundai. “She’s not letting him back out of going to the hospital, if that’s what you mean.”

  It wasn’t. But as long as she’d quit ranting about attempted murder charges, maybe Pete could see that the offending hedges were trimmed before the Naesers returned from the hospital.

  One item off his caseload. “Zoe, we need to talk.”

  Her jaw jutted. “I have to get back to my patient.”

  Pete caught her arm as she spun away from him. “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. He’d prefer to keep his personal business personal, but suspected Ryan Mancinelli’s ears had perked up. “I had no right to say what I did.”

  Her eyes, filled with steely resolve, met his, but she didn’t say a thing.

  “You know I respect your instincts. But you’re letting that little girl cloud your judgment.”

  Zoe bristled. “And you have tunnel vision where Holt’s concerned.”

  Pete winced. He should have stopped after the respect your instincts comment. “Will you at least consider the possibility he might be involved in his wife’s death?”

  “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “I’m a cop, not a lawyer. Not a judge or a jury. Neither are you. If you want to be a coroner and investigate homicides, you better learn that.”

  “So you have free rein to railroad someone just because y
ou don’t like them?”

  “No.” Pete sputtered. “I’m not railroading Holt Farabee. I’m investigating his wife’s death. He may or may not have played a part in it. But until I clear him, I’d prefer the woman I love not live under the same roof with the man.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened, and a hush fell over the entire accident scene with the exception of the idling motors of stopped traffic and rescue vehicles.

  Pete realized his voice had risen more than he’d been aware. The Naesers at the end of their driveway, the cowboy by his pickup, Earl, two firefighters, and the truck driver standing next to the Rav4 all stared at him. Pete glanced at Ryan Mancinelli, whose face had gone ashen.

  Damn it. Pete had just professed his love for Zoe in the worst possible manner. He wished she’d slap him. Hard. “Zoe, I’m sorry…”

  She wrenched free from his grasp and walked away without another word. Pete closed his eyes and gave himself a silent tongue lashing. Idiot. Moron. Stupid son of a bitch. Could he possibly screw up his chances with her any worse?

  Mortified, Zoe strode toward the Rav4 and her partner. “What’s the second unit’s ETA?”

  Ever the voice of reason and the face of calm, Earl checked his watch. “Should be here any minute now. In fact, I think I hear them coming.”

  Over the roar inside her head, she made out the faint siren in the distance. She nodded at the two Vance Township firefighters staring at her. “You have enough help extricating her from the car, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, then I’ll keep an eye on Mr. Naeser until the other ambulance arrives. Holler if you need a hand.”

  “We’re fine.”

  Zoe rubbed at the stabbing pain piercing her skull above her left eyebrow as she made her way back to the wrecked Hyundai while keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her. The last thing she wanted was to make eye contact with anyone.