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Authors: Lisa Scottoline
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ride home.
“Good call.” Officer McMullen cruised ahead, talking idly over his shoulder. “I’m married twenty-six years. My wife likes it when she knows what’s going on. Women, they like to know things.”
“Right.” Jake added, See you soon. He hit SEND and held the phone. He looked out the window at the passing scenery, his heart aching.
“Kind of a busy morning, this one. Everybody’s over at a scene on Pike Road, a hit-and-run. That’s where I was when the property-damage call came in, for you. My supervisor told me to go.”
Oh God. Jake kept his expression calm, so he didn’t look suspicious in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t anticipated that McMullen would’ve been at the scene, but Pike Road and the Wawa were both in Whiteland Township, which was small. It wasn’t unlikely that the cop who came to the Wawa would also have been on Pike Road.
“I’ll tell you this, it wasn’t pretty.” Officer McMullen slowed the cruiser to a stop at a red light. “The victim was a high-school kid, a jogger. Female.”
“What a shame.” Jake swallowed hard, feeling a wave of regret so powerful he almost confessed. Then it could all be over. He would be punished, he would pay. But so would Ryan.
“They were gathering evidence when I left. No suspects yet, in case you were wondering.”
Jake should have been wondering, but he was still thinking about Kathleen. He flashed on her bloodied face, for the umpteenth time.
“We got a crack team on the case. We call in a team of accident-reconstruction officers who are specially trained to investigate a hit-and-run. We share them. We don’t have the payroll to justify them, or the need, but we borrow them from Pikeland Township.”
Jake nodded, but Officer McMullen didn’t require encouragement to keep talking.
“They’re crackerjack, five full-fledged accident-reconstruction specialists. Most of our guys were active-duty law enforcement, so they have a lot of experience too. We call it the total station.”
“I see.” Jake had to get it together. As anguished as he felt about Kathleen, it worried him to think of how expert the police could be. He felt his gut wrench, caught between feeling guilty and not wanting to get caught, for Ryan’s sake.
“They go out there with equipment, like surveyor’s equipment with the scope, and they triangulate the scene. They measure everything. They look for skidmarks, any damage, any trace evidence or other physical evidence, like pieces of the headlamp or any part that came off the car.” Officer McMullen kept his eyes on the road, and they looked flinty in the glare from the bright gray sky. “They collect that evidence, log it in, and bag it, and they can run down exactly what car it was, make and model, the whole nine.”
Jake’s phone signaled an incoming text, and he looked down. It was Pam, saying, Oh no, are you okay?
“It’s all up-to-the-minute technology, those guys are something else. They come back and upload all the data into the computer and they can completely rebuild the accident. They can tell you exactly how it happened.”
Jake texted back, I’m fine, don’t worry. Go to the gym if you want to. Don’t wait for me.
“This poor kid was knocked out of her shoes, her sneakers. Most pedestrians who get hit, they get knocked out of their shoes. I bagged her sneaker myself.”
Jake couldn’t hide the revulsion he felt inside and he didn’t try. He was the lowest form of life on the planet.
“A few months ago, I worked a scene, this is kind of gory, but we got body parts, like the skull. We put that in these cans, looks just like a regular paint can, gallon size. That’s for evidence that can decompose. We get all the evidence we can and we comb the area for debris. You never know what’ll pay off.”
Jake’s phone signaled a text. Pam replied, Not going to the gym. Ryan’s sick.
“And that’s only the beginning. We knock on doors, we ask the neighbors what did you
“Good call.” Officer McMullen cruised ahead, talking idly over his shoulder. “I’m married twenty-six years. My wife likes it when she knows what’s going on. Women, they like to know things.”
“Right.” Jake added, See you soon. He hit SEND and held the phone. He looked out the window at the passing scenery, his heart aching.
“Kind of a busy morning, this one. Everybody’s over at a scene on Pike Road, a hit-and-run. That’s where I was when the property-damage call came in, for you. My supervisor told me to go.”
Oh God. Jake kept his expression calm, so he didn’t look suspicious in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t anticipated that McMullen would’ve been at the scene, but Pike Road and the Wawa were both in Whiteland Township, which was small. It wasn’t unlikely that the cop who came to the Wawa would also have been on Pike Road.
“I’ll tell you this, it wasn’t pretty.” Officer McMullen slowed the cruiser to a stop at a red light. “The victim was a high-school kid, a jogger. Female.”
“What a shame.” Jake swallowed hard, feeling a wave of regret so powerful he almost confessed. Then it could all be over. He would be punished, he would pay. But so would Ryan.
“They were gathering evidence when I left. No suspects yet, in case you were wondering.”
Jake should have been wondering, but he was still thinking about Kathleen. He flashed on her bloodied face, for the umpteenth time.
“We got a crack team on the case. We call in a team of accident-reconstruction officers who are specially trained to investigate a hit-and-run. We share them. We don’t have the payroll to justify them, or the need, but we borrow them from Pikeland Township.”
Jake nodded, but Officer McMullen didn’t require encouragement to keep talking.
“They’re crackerjack, five full-fledged accident-reconstruction specialists. Most of our guys were active-duty law enforcement, so they have a lot of experience too. We call it the total station.”
“I see.” Jake had to get it together. As anguished as he felt about Kathleen, it worried him to think of how expert the police could be. He felt his gut wrench, caught between feeling guilty and not wanting to get caught, for Ryan’s sake.
“They go out there with equipment, like surveyor’s equipment with the scope, and they triangulate the scene. They measure everything. They look for skidmarks, any damage, any trace evidence or other physical evidence, like pieces of the headlamp or any part that came off the car.” Officer McMullen kept his eyes on the road, and they looked flinty in the glare from the bright gray sky. “They collect that evidence, log it in, and bag it, and they can run down exactly what car it was, make and model, the whole nine.”
Jake’s phone signaled an incoming text, and he looked down. It was Pam, saying, Oh no, are you okay?
“It’s all up-to-the-minute technology, those guys are something else. They come back and upload all the data into the computer and they can completely rebuild the accident. They can tell you exactly how it happened.”
Jake texted back, I’m fine, don’t worry. Go to the gym if you want to. Don’t wait for me.
“This poor kid was knocked out of her shoes, her sneakers. Most pedestrians who get hit, they get knocked out of their shoes. I bagged her sneaker myself.”
Jake couldn’t hide the revulsion he felt inside and he didn’t try. He was the lowest form of life on the planet.
“A few months ago, I worked a scene, this is kind of gory, but we got body parts, like the skull. We put that in these cans, looks just like a regular paint can, gallon size. That’s for evidence that can decompose. We get all the evidence we can and we comb the area for debris. You never know what’ll pay off.”
Jake’s phone signaled a text. Pam replied, Not going to the gym. Ryan’s sick.
“And that’s only the beginning. We knock on doors, we ask the neighbors what did you
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