This man seemed to regard her as just another homicide victim in the making. Worth his intellectual interest, but that was all.
She straightened her back and met his gaze without wavering as he approached.
Are you all right? he asked.
A few bruises. A few cuts. Thats all.
Youre sure you dont want to go to the ER? I can drive you.
Im fine. Im a nurse, so I think Id know.
They say doctors and nurses make the worst patients. Ill drive you to the hospital. Just to be sure.
She gave a disbelieving laugh. That sounds like an order.
As a matter of fact, it is.
Detective, I really think Id know if I was
She was talking to his back. The man had actually turned his back to her. He was already walking away, toward his car. Detective! she called.
He glanced over his shoulder. Yes?
I dont This isnt She sighed. Oh, never mind, she muttered, and followed him to his car. There was no point arguing with the man. Hed just turn his back on her again. As she slid into the passenger seat, she felt a sharp stab of pain in her chest. Maybe he was right after all. She knew it could take hours, or even days, for injuries to manifest themselves. She hated to admit it, but Mr. Personality was probably right about this trip to the ER.
She was too uncomfortable to say much as they drove to the hospital. It was Sam who finally broke the silence.
So, can you tell me what happened? he asked.
I already gave a statement. Its all in the police report. Someone ran me off the road.
Yes, a black Ford, male driver. Maine license plate.
Then youve been told the details.
The other witness said he thought it was a drunk driver trying to pass you on the hill. He didnt think it was deliberate.
She shook her head. I dont know what to think anymore.
When did you first see the Ford?
Somewhere around Smugglers Cove, I guess. I noticed that it seemed to be following me.
Was it weaving? Show any signs of driver impairment?
No. It was justfollowing me.
Could it have been behind you earlier?
Im not sure.
Is it possible it was there when you left your mothers house?
She frowned at him. He wasnt looking at her, but was staring straight ahead. The tenor of his questions had taken a subtle change of course. He had started out sounding noncommittal. Maybe even skeptical. But this last question told her he was considering a possibility other than a drunk driver. A possibility that left her suddenly chilled.
Are you suggesting he was waiting for me?
Im just exploring the possibilities.
The other policeman thought it was a drunk driver.
He has his opinion.
Whats your opinion?
He didnt answer. He just kept driving in that maddeningly calm way of his. Did the man ever show any emotion? Once, just once, shed like to see something get under that thick skin of his.
Detective Navarro, she said. I pay taxes. I pay your salary. I think I deserve more than just a brush-off.
Oh. The old civil servant line.
Ill use whatever line it takes to get an answer out of you!
Im not sure you want to hear my answer.
Why wouldnt I?
I made a brief inspection of your car. What I found there backs up quite a bit of what you just told me. There were black paint chips on the drivers side, indicating that the vehicle that rammed yours was, indeed, black.
So Im not color blind.
I also noticed that the drivers window was shattered. And that the breakage was in a starburst pattern. Not what Id expect for a rollover accident.
Thats because the window was already broken when I went off the road.
How do you know?
I remember I felt flying glass. Thats how I cut my face. When the glass hit me. That was before I rolled over.
Are you sure? He glanced at her. Absolutely sure?
Yes. Does it make a difference?
He let out a breath. It makes a lot of difference, he said softly. It also goes along with what I found in your car.
In my car? Perplexed, she shook her head. What, exactly, did you find?
It was in the right passenger door the door that was jammed against the tree. The metal was pretty crumpled; thats why the other cops didnt notice it. But I knew it was there somewhere. And I found it.
Found what?
A bullet hole.
Nina felt the blood drain from her face. She couldnt speak; she could only sit in shocked silence, her world rocked by the impact of his words.
He continued talking, his tone matter-of-fact. Chillingly so. Hes not human, she thought. Hes a machine. A robot.
The bullet must have hit your window, he said, just to the rear of your head. Thats why the glass shattered. Then the bullet passed at a slightly forward angle, missed you completely, and made a hole in the plastic molding of the opposite door, where its probably still lodged. Itll be retrieved. By tonight, well know the caliber. And possibly the make of the gun. What I still dont know what youll have to tell me is why someones trying to kill you.
She shook her head. Its a mistake.
This guys going to a lot of trouble. Hes bombed a church. Tailed you. Shot at you. Theres no mistake.
There has to be!
Think of every possible person who might want to hurt you. Think, Nina.