Weaver's Needle

by Caroll, Robin;

  Landry started to follow him, but the EMT eased her onto the back of the ambulance beside the other woman.

  “Let me take a look at this shoulder.”

  All thoughts of Nickolai or the accident fled as he touched the exact spot on her shoulder that sent bolts of red, shooting pain down her arm.

  Oh, Lord, help me.

  She had to be okay.

  Even in the dark and from about a couple of hundred feet away, Nickolai watched her face go from pale to white as the paramedic examined her shoulder. It took every ounce of his self-control not to run over to the back of the ambulance. That, and the uniformed officer pushing for answers hovering by them.

  The area of the road was lit up like daylight with the cruiser’s spotlight shining on the group of them hovering around the uniformed officer.

  “You said you didn’t have enough time to stop?” the officer asked the driver of the eighteen-wheeler.

  “I didn’t. I didn’t see the line of traffic stopping. It just did. Next thing I knew, I slammed into the truck in front of me, which propelled them into the car in front of them. Luckily the light had already changed by then and the car in front of that one sped out of the way.”

  “Lucky for them indeed.” The uniformed officer jotted notes on the accident report form attached onto the clipboard.

  “It’s not his fault,” Nickolai interrupted.

  “Oh yeah? Got your license and registration?”

  Nickolai handed the cop his driver’s license. “Nickolai Baptiste. The registration is in my truck console. My brakes went out. I had no choice but to hit the car in front of me.” He nodded at the trucker. “I wasn’t able to stop, so neither was he.”

  “Had your brakes been squealing? Feeling a little mushy when you pressed on the pedal for a while?”

  “No, sir. They were fine earlier. Not a hint of a problem.”

  “I see.” No, he didn’t, but Nickolai didn’t feel like going into much more with the young cop who definitely fit the stereotype of an egotistical narcissist who got into law enforcement for the power, not to actually serve the people. Such a constant frustration to the good cops out there who had to deal with negativity based on behavior like this one’s.

  “You’re a long way from New Or-leans, Mr. Baptiste. You here for the marathon?”

  Swallowing the long, exasperating sigh begging to be exhaled, Nickolai explained who he was, why he was in town, and again, slower this time, explained that his truck’s brakes had gone out. The cop took down the information then handed Nickolai’s license back to him. “Recovery specialist working a case here, huh?”

  It was times such as these that Nickolai longed to have his badge again, just to avoid going through the silly rigmarole that this traffic unni would put him through. He quickly gave the condensed version, finishing up with mentioning Officer Hogan by name.

  “I’ll check in with him when I get done with my report. You say your brakes didn’t work?”

  Nickolai nodded. “Not at all.” And that was extremely strange. He intended to go back to where he’d parked at the restaurant and see if there was brake fluid on the ground. Same thing with where he’d parked at the motel.

  “Did you try pumping the pedal? Sometimes that can do it.”

  “No pumping on newer model vehicles equipped with ABS, which my truck has.” Nickolai ground his teeth.

  “Huh. I see.” Clearly he didn’t, but he wrote on his form anyway.

  Nickolai shifted, staring at the ambulance. The doors still stood open, but they’d moved Landry inside, so he couldn’t see her. Was she hurt more than she’d let on? More than she’d known? His gut tightened and twisted. If she was seriously injured while he was driving …

  “You are aware that the law requires drivers to maintain complete control of their vehicle at all times, correct?” the officer asked the truck driver. “And that hitting a vehicle in the rear is a clear indication that you were not in complete control of your vehicle.”

  The trucker nodded. “I should’ve been able to stop.”

  Nickolai turned back to the officer. “But he didn’t see me stopping because my brakes were out, so how would he know? Due to the steepness of the road toward the traffic light, and having no brakes to even slow down, our speed increased. This put more space between myself and the eighteen-wheeler, so naturally he would assume we were accelerating, not coming to a stop.” Nickolai knew how hard it would be if this accident was a black mark on the trucker’s record. He might lose his CDL, but he would definitely lose his job. Trucking companies had gotten too bad a rap for a long time, and the insurance on the big rigs alone cut deep into profits.

  “You an expert in vehicular accidents now?” the officer asked Nickolai, glaring the entire time.

  “No, sir, but I can’t even be sure if I didn’t hit the car in front of me before I was hit.” He straightened as the lady who’d been driving the car he’d hit strode toward them from the ambulance. “It was nobody’s fault … that’s why they’re called accidents.”

  The cop didn’t even have a chance to ask the lady anything as she joined them. She held out papers to him. “My name is Molly Berringing. Here is a copy of my driver’s license and my vehicle registration. I’m the one who called and reported the accident.”

  He took them from her and slid them under the clip. “Thank—”

  “I was sitting at the red light, late because of the road being closed because of the marathon kickoff tonight. I’d forgotten this part of Apache Trail would be closed during the opening ceremony and I’d just needed to run to the store and pick up another loaf of bread. If I’d gone to the grocery on the other side of town, I wouldn’t have been caught in the traffic jam, nor this wreck.”

  “Ms. Berringing—”

  “It’s Molly. I’m divorced. A single mom to my sweet little Ashland and Ashley. Thank goodness they’re at their dad’s right now and weren’t in the car. They could’ve been killed.”

  “Molly,” the officer interrupted. “Tell me what happened, please. You were sitting at the red light….”

  “Right. I knew the light was about to turn green because I come this way from work every day. Anyway, something told me to look in my rearview mirror right at that moment. That never happens to me, really, getting funny feelings like that.”

  “So you looked in your rearview mirror?”

  Nickolai pressed his lips together to hold in the smile. At least the officer could understand frustration. Welcome to his world.

  She nodded. “I saw that pickup truck heading right toward me, and that big old eighteen-wheeler barreling down right behind him.”

  That wasn’t right. Nickolai interrupted her. “He wasn’t really barreling down—”

  “Please, Mr. Baptiste. I’m taking Mis—er, Molly Berringing’s statement.” The officer smiled at her. “Go ahead, ma’am.”

  The trucker locked stares with Nickolai then rolled his eyes.

  “As I was saying.” She shot Nickolai a warning to keep quiet. “I saw them both bearing down on me, and I thought, ‘Lord, You gotta save me.’ ” She nodded. “I saw the yellow light on the other side and knew the light was about to turn green, but wasn’t sure it’d turn in enough time.”

  He glanced back to the ambulance. Landry sat on the back, her right arm in a sling. One of the paramedics was still with her.

  “I knew I was gonna get hit and I was terrified. I mean, that’s a big truck and an even bigger eighteen-wheeler. I just knew I was a goner, so I started praying and praying.”

  “I bet.” The officer shot Nickolai a hard look.

  “I was praying, too, ma’am,” the trucker offered softly.

  “Well, He must’ve heard our prayers,” Molly said, “because just as those trucks hit and hit me and I started to slam into the car in front of me, the light had changed and those cars sped off, so I didn’t hit anything.” She narrowed her eyes at Nickolai. “I was just rear-ended. Good thing my kids weren’t in that backseat,
mister, or you and I would be having a totally different conversation right now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” No sense riling her up even more. Besides, he noticed Landry making her way toward them. He moved to intercept her. “Are you okay?”

  She fell into step beside him. “Bad bruise on my shoulder from hitting the truck door. Minor whiplash on my neck.”

  “And they aren’t taking you to the hospital?” What kind of two-bit town was this?

  “I declined. I’m fine. I told the EMT if I showed any of the symptoms we discussed, I’d go to the emergency room.” She let him hold her left elbow and guide her.

  “You should’ve gone with them.” While her color had improved a little, she was still too pale.

  “I’m fine.” She smiled.

  “Ma’am, you were the passenger in the Ford truck?” Officer Friendly had noticed her. He must have liked what he saw, because Nickolai would swear he puffed his chest out more than he already had inflated himself.

  She nodded. “Landry Parker.”

  Nickolai took a step closer to her.

  His movement wasn’t missed by the cop, who raised his brows at Landry. “Are you from New Or-leans as well?”

  She flashed him a smile so brilliant, it pierced the night. “I am, sir.”

  “What can you tell me about the accident?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention to the road, enjoying the cool evening when Nickolai informed me that the brakes in the truck were gone. I looked over and saw that the pedal had gone all the way to the floor.”

  “I’m sure you were frightened. What did you do?” Even the cop’s voice came out softer when he talked to Landry.

  She seemed to have that effect on people.

  “He warned me about the truck coming up from behind, and the stoplight in front of us. We both realized there was no shoulder and that there was a steady stream of oncoming traffic. We truly had nowhere to go.”

  The cop nodded, not even making notes.

  Nickolai and the trucker met gazes again, this time grinning.

  “Naturally, we knew we had to do something. Nickolai rolled down the windows in the truck and laid on the horn. After that, it’s a little blurry as to what happened. It all went so fast. We hit and were hit, almost at the same time.” She gestured to the sling. “I was slammed against the door, and I hit my head against the back of the seat.”

  “Are you going to the hospital?” the police officer asked her.

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll be okay.” She smiled at him. “I promised to go if I felt even the slightest bit like I needed to.”

  The cop smiled at her. “You watch yourself, Ms. Parker. Whiplash can creep up on you.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  The cop turned his gaze on Nickolai. “Why did you let your windows down?”

  “To reduce glass being broken and cutting us and others.”

  “Pretty clever, wouldn’t you say?” Landry smiled.

  The cop ignored her question and turned to Molly. “Did you hear his horn?”

  Her expression clearly said she had. Nickolai would bet that she hadn’t noticed him or the eighteen-wheeler heading toward her until she heard the horn.

  She shrugged. “There was so much going on, I really don’t recall.”

  Two regular tow trucks and one designed for a big rig pulled up.

  “I see.” The cop slipped his pen into his shirt pocket. “I have all of your information. Your vehicles will be towed to this garage.” He handed out business cards. “I’ll file my report and be in touch within twenty-four hours.” He turned and headed to his cruiser. The spotlight on top of his car went dark.

  “What are we supposed to do?” the trucker asked.

  Molly smirked. “My sister will be here any minute. I called her before I left the ambulance.”

  Landry smiled at the trucker. “I called our friend from the ambulance as well. I’m sure he’ll be more than pleased to drop you off.”

  “I’m not from here. I was just passing through. I need to call my boss.”

  “Look, why don’t you ride with us to the motel? From what I understand, there aren’t many rooms available in town with the marathon going on. If they’re all booked, you can crash on my other bed.” Nickolai already felt bad enough that the trucker was involved in the accident at all, knowing all that he did.

  “Thanks, man. Let me grab my stuff.” The trucker headed back to his rig.

  “That was nice.” Landry winced.

  “I’m sorry you got hurt.” He’d rather have cut off his own arm.

  Or get shot again.

  “It’s not your fault, which got me to thinking. Is it possible somebody messed with your brake lines?”

  “You know, I thought the exact same thing.” It was the only thing that made sense. “I plan to check in at this garage tomorrow morning and find out what a mechanic says about it.”

  If someone had messed with his brakes, that was three blatant attempts to get him and Landry out of town.

  What were they onto?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The morning sun sliced through the slit in the motel’s curtains, filling the room with brightness.

  Landry squinted against the light and flung her arm over her eyes. Pain shot out from her shoulder like electrical currents. Oh, sweet Jesus, make the pain stop.

  She cringed and gently sat up, pulling her arm close to her as if it were in its sling, and stared at the bedside clock.

  Really? Nine twelve? Already? She’d slept until after nine?

  How long had it been since she’d slept in like this? Months, at least. Must’ve been those pain pills the nice paramedic had given her. She rarely took even so much as an ibuprofen, so whatever was in those pills had really knocked her out.

  She stood and gingerly stretched, taking an inventory of every little ache and pain. Her shoulder hurt, obviously. Her neck ached a bit as she rolled her head to loosen the tensed muscles. The headache she’d gone to bed with last night had eased—no longer throbbing, just a steady, dull twinge. Her left hand felt a little sore as she flexed it. She must’ve really been holding on to that console with everything she had.

  Overall, she wasn’t in too bad a condition. Considering. Thank You, Jesus!

  A quick shower made her feel even better. Not being able to lift her right arm was a bit of an issue in her normal routine. Washing her hair with one arm was particularly challenging. And forget braiding her hair. Even pulling it back into a ponytail was an issue. No matter how hard she tried, there was no way to center it in the middle of her head. With the third failed attempt, she tossed the band into her bag and pulled out a headband. At least it would keep the hair out of her face.

  Dressed and ready with her sling keeping all pressure off her shoulder, she stepped outside and was welcomed by Nickolai standing in the parking lot, talking with the two officers who’d taken their reports of the note.

  Nickolai smiled when he saw her. “Good morning. How’re you feeling?”

  “Better, I think.” She couldn’t help grinning back at him. “Can’t believe I slept so late.”

  “You were exhausted.”

  “And the pain pills the EMT gave me really knocked me out.” She still felt a little fuzzy. “How’s our trucker friend?”

  “He made his statement at the police station early this morning, then picked up his rig and headed out. He said he hoped you were okay.”

  She nodded, regretting moving her neck instantly.

  “You remember Officers Hogan and Paxton?”

  So those were their names. “I do. Hello, again.”

  “Sorry to hear you were hurt,” Officer Paxton, a.k.a. Winky, said.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  “They were just telling me that they’re requesting a forensics mechanic inspect my truck.”

  She nodded. “So y’all know his brake lines were probably messed with?”

  The older officer, Hogan, shook his head and held up
a palm. “We don’t know anything right now. We only deal with the facts. Once our team looks over Mr. Baptiste’s truck and gives us a report, we’ll know more.”

  How unsurprisingly neutral. At least they were going to check.

  “In the meantime, we encourage common sense safety precautions like making sure your hotel room is always locked when you’re in for the evening, don’t go places alone, always have your cell phone handy … stuff like that.” Officer Paxton nodded as he spoke, reminding her of a bobblehead figure.

  “Of course.”

  Officer Hogan opened the driver’s door of their police car. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we get the report.”

  “Did you find out anything from the note?” she asked.

  “Our team’s still going over it for any trace evidence. Of course, we didn’t dust it for prints since so many of you touched it.” Officer Paxton didn’t sound hopeful.

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as they drove off, Nickolai moved beside her. “At least they’re working the case and not just blowing us off.”

  She shook her head. “So you feel it, too? Like we’re to blame for interrupting their quiet town life? I thought maybe it was just me.”

  “Nope, I feel it, but I also understand.”

  “Ahh, you boys in blue take up for each other so much.”

  “We do, but that’s not the case this time. You’ve got to admit, we do seem to have issues following us all of a sudden.”

  “Because we’re onto something.” She so hoped that was the case.

  “Speaking of onto something … Stan just headed over to Mickey D’s Café, not to be confused with the golden arches, for breakfast since the officers said pretty much everything else was closed until the marathon is over. Stan asked that we join him as soon as you were up and the police gone. I told him I’d drive us in your rental. Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course. I hated not being able to look for Phillip Fontenot last night.” She dug the keys for the Jeep out of her purse and handed them to him. She looked around and realized there weren’t any other people in the parking lot, and the traffic was almost nonexistent on the main street of town. She’d completely forgotten about the marathon being today.