Read Online A Bend in the Road by Nicholas Sparks - Free Book Online Page A

through the same information.
Knowing what he’d been through, no one had refused to cooperate, but in the end
he’d learned no more than the official investigators. As it was, the file sat
on the bedstand, as if daring Miles to find out who’d been driving the car that
night.
    But that didn’t
seem likely, not anymore, no matter how much Miles wanted to punish the person
who’d ruined his life. And let there be no mistake: That was exactly what he
wanted to do. He wanted to make the person pay dearly for what he’d done; it
was his duty both as a husband and as someone sworn to uphold the law. An eye
for an eye—wasn’t that what the Bible said? 
Now, as with most mornings, Miles stared at the file without bothering
to open it and found himself imagining the person who’d done it, running
through the same scenarios he did every time, and always beginning with the
same question.  If it was simply an accident,
why run?
    The only reason
he could come up with was that the person was drunk, someone coming home from a
party, or someone who made a habit of drinking too much every weekend. A man,
probably, in his thirties or forties. Though there was no evidence to support
that, that’s whom he always pictured. In his mind’s eye, Miles could see him
swerving from side to side as he made his way down the road, going too fast and
jerking the wheel, his mind processing everything in slow motion. Maybe he was
reaching for another beer, one sandwiched between his legs, just as he caught a
glimpse of Missy at the last second. Or maybe he didn’t see her at all. Maybe
he just heard the thud and felt the car shudder with the impact. Even then, the
driver didn’t panic. There weren’t any skid marks on the road, even though the
driver had stopped the car to see what he had done. The evidence—information
that had never appeared in any of the articles—showed that much.
    No matter.
    No one else had
seen anything. There were no other cars on the road, no porch lights flicked
on, no one had been outside walking the dog or turning off the sprinklers. Even
in his intoxicated state, the driver had known that Missy was dead and that
he’d be facing a manslaughter charge at the least, maybe second-degree murder
if he’d had prior offenses. Criminal charges. Prison time.  Life behind bars. These and even more
frightening thoughts must have raced through his head, urging him to get out of
there before anyone saw him. And he had, without ever bothering to consider the
grief he’d left in his wake.  It was
either that, or someone had run Missy down on purpose.
    Some sociopath
who killed for the thrill of it. He’d heard of such people.
    Or killed to get
back at Miles Ryan?
    He was a sheriff;
he’d made enemies. He’d arrested people and testified against them. He’d helped
send scores of people to prison.
    One of them?
    The list was
endless, an exercise in paranoia.
    He sighed,
finally opening the file, finding himself drawn to the pages.  There was one detail about the accident that
didn’t seem to fit, and over the years Miles had scribbled half a dozen
question marks around it. He had learned of it when he’d been taken to the
scene of the accident.  Strangely,
whoever had been driving the car had covered Missy’s body with a blanket.
    This fact had
never made the papers.
    For a while,
there were hopes that the blanket would provide some clues to the identity of
the driver. It hadn’t. It was a blanket typically found in emergency kits, the
kind sold in a standard package with other assorted items at nearly every auto
supply or department store across the country. There’d been no way to trace it.
    But . . .why?
    This was the part
that continued to nag at Miles.
    Why cover up the
body, then run? It made no sense. When he’d raised the matter with Charlie, Charlie
had said something that haunted Miles to this day: “It’s like the driver was
trying to apologize.”
    Or throw us off
the track?
    Miles didn’t