dangerous."
"Any chance this had something to do with him?"
"Mr. Jenkins was a retired Korean War vet. He lived on a small pension from the state and loved butter pecan ice cream. No, I don't think he did anything to deserve being run over by a Ford Explorer. The dog, on the other hand, had a long history of eating shoes."
Big Boy's face remained so impassive; Rainie almost missed the sarcasm again. Were all Southern boys so charming, or was she just in for a special treat?
"No sign of braking," she tried, still working the suspicious angle.
"Never met a drunk who did."
"Could've gotten tapped by a second vehicle," she rallied.
"No fresh scratches, dents, or paint chips on the SUV. No marks on the tire walls. No additional sets of tire tracks. Look at your photos,
ma'am."
Rainie scowled. Competent policemen could be such a pain in the ass. "What about a second person in the vehicle? A passenger?"
"I didn't see one."
"Did you look?"
"I looked in the passenger's seat. There was no one there."
"Did you dust for prints?"
Amity rolled his eyes. "What the hell would you gain by printing a car? First off, the dashboards and most side panels are too rough to yield a print. Second, the smooth surfaces that would work, such as seat belt clasps, door handles, or steering wheels, have been handled by so many Tom, Dick, and Harrys, you'd never get clean ridges. Again, I refer you to standard investigative procedures – "
"I get the point. You're the greatest police officer that ever lived and there is no evidence of a second person at the scene."
"Why, yes ma'am, I think we're finally in agreement."
Rainie smiled thinly at him. Then she leaned forward. "Did you happen to try the passenger-side door?"
Amity's eyes narrowed. She knew he followed her train of thought, because he started to nod. "As a matter offact…"
"The door was operable, wasn't it?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And you looked down for footprints?"
"Too much undergrowth. Couldn't get a sign of anything."
"But you were looking. Officer. Why were you looking?"
Officer Amity grew silent. He said finally, "I don't know."
"Off the record."
"I don't know."
"Way off the record. You followed up on this case, Officer, even after you knew the driver was dying. As you kindly pointed out, you state boys are much too overworked to randomly do such a thing. Something bothered you. Something's still bothering you. I'm even willing to bet that you're not that surprised I'm here."
Officer Amity remained silent. Just when she thought he was going to continue to play hard to get, he said suddenly, "I didn't think I was alone."
"What?"
His lips thinned. He continued in a rush. "I was standing at the vehicle staring at that poor, poor girl and this guy is puking out his guts behind me and I swore… I swore to God I heard someone laughing."
"What?"
"Maybe it was all in my head. Jesus, the sun wasn't all the way up yet and it gets kind of hinky on those rural routes. All the trees and brush, half of it hasn't been cleared in the last fifty years. Million and a half places for someone to hide, if they had the mind to. I looked around, checked things out. Never saw a thing. Probably was all in my head. The puking Samaritan didn't help much either. He almost got my leg."
"I want to see the car."
"Good luck."
"Come on, just a quick peek in the impound lot."
Amity shook his head. "It's been fourteen months. Sure the vehicle started in our lot, but only until the insurance company settled. They took it away months ago, probably towed it to some salvage yard where it's already been broken down for parts."
"Shit," Rainie muttered. She worried her lower lip again, not expecting this and trying to think of more options. "I thought there was some rule that seat belts from a wrecked vehicle couldn't be resold as parts. They're no longer guaranteed after the first accident."
"Yes, ma'am."
"So in theory, the salvage yard should at least still have the seat belts."
He shrugged. "If
"Any chance this had something to do with him?"
"Mr. Jenkins was a retired Korean War vet. He lived on a small pension from the state and loved butter pecan ice cream. No, I don't think he did anything to deserve being run over by a Ford Explorer. The dog, on the other hand, had a long history of eating shoes."
Big Boy's face remained so impassive; Rainie almost missed the sarcasm again. Were all Southern boys so charming, or was she just in for a special treat?
"No sign of braking," she tried, still working the suspicious angle.
"Never met a drunk who did."
"Could've gotten tapped by a second vehicle," she rallied.
"No fresh scratches, dents, or paint chips on the SUV. No marks on the tire walls. No additional sets of tire tracks. Look at your photos,
ma'am."
Rainie scowled. Competent policemen could be such a pain in the ass. "What about a second person in the vehicle? A passenger?"
"I didn't see one."
"Did you look?"
"I looked in the passenger's seat. There was no one there."
"Did you dust for prints?"
Amity rolled his eyes. "What the hell would you gain by printing a car? First off, the dashboards and most side panels are too rough to yield a print. Second, the smooth surfaces that would work, such as seat belt clasps, door handles, or steering wheels, have been handled by so many Tom, Dick, and Harrys, you'd never get clean ridges. Again, I refer you to standard investigative procedures – "
"I get the point. You're the greatest police officer that ever lived and there is no evidence of a second person at the scene."
"Why, yes ma'am, I think we're finally in agreement."
Rainie smiled thinly at him. Then she leaned forward. "Did you happen to try the passenger-side door?"
Amity's eyes narrowed. She knew he followed her train of thought, because he started to nod. "As a matter offact…"
"The door was operable, wasn't it?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And you looked down for footprints?"
"Too much undergrowth. Couldn't get a sign of anything."
"But you were looking. Officer. Why were you looking?"
Officer Amity grew silent. He said finally, "I don't know."
"Off the record."
"I don't know."
"Way off the record. You followed up on this case, Officer, even after you knew the driver was dying. As you kindly pointed out, you state boys are much too overworked to randomly do such a thing. Something bothered you. Something's still bothering you. I'm even willing to bet that you're not that surprised I'm here."
Officer Amity remained silent. Just when she thought he was going to continue to play hard to get, he said suddenly, "I didn't think I was alone."
"What?"
His lips thinned. He continued in a rush. "I was standing at the vehicle staring at that poor, poor girl and this guy is puking out his guts behind me and I swore… I swore to God I heard someone laughing."
"What?"
"Maybe it was all in my head. Jesus, the sun wasn't all the way up yet and it gets kind of hinky on those rural routes. All the trees and brush, half of it hasn't been cleared in the last fifty years. Million and a half places for someone to hide, if they had the mind to. I looked around, checked things out. Never saw a thing. Probably was all in my head. The puking Samaritan didn't help much either. He almost got my leg."
"I want to see the car."
"Good luck."
"Come on, just a quick peek in the impound lot."
Amity shook his head. "It's been fourteen months. Sure the vehicle started in our lot, but only until the insurance company settled. They took it away months ago, probably towed it to some salvage yard where it's already been broken down for parts."
"Shit," Rainie muttered. She worried her lower lip again, not expecting this and trying to think of more options. "I thought there was some rule that seat belts from a wrecked vehicle couldn't be resold as parts. They're no longer guaranteed after the first accident."
"Yes, ma'am."
"So in theory, the salvage yard should at least still have the seat belts."
He shrugged. "If
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