The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [2]
She nodded, furrowing her brow and struggling to concentrate. Wheel felt funny in her hand. Round. Huh. Pressed on the brakes. Hit the gas instead. The SUV lurched forward.
“Sorry,” she muttered. World was beginning to spin again. She didn’t feel well. Like she was going to throw up, or pass out. Maybe both. If she could just close her eyes . . .
Road moved on her again. Vehicle jerked.
Seat belt. Needed a seat belt. She groped for the strap, got the clasp. Pulled. Seat belt spun out toothlessly. That’s right. Broken. Must get that fixed. Someday. Today. May day. Stars spinning away, sky starting to lighten. Sun going to come up. Now she just needed a little girl singing, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow—”
“Slow down,” he repeated from the passenger’s seat. “There’s a sharp turn ahead.”
She looked at him numbly. He had a strange gleam in his eyes. Excitement. She didn’t understand.
“I love you,” she heard herself say.
“I know,” he replied. He reached for her kindly. His hand settled on the wheel. “Sweet, sexy, Mandy. You’re never going to get over me.”
She nodded. The dam broke, and tears poured down her cheeks. She sobbed hopelessly as the Ford Explorer swerved across the road, and the gleam built in his eyes.
“I’m as good as it gets,” he continued relentlessly. “Without me, Mandy, you’ll be lost.”
“I know, I know.”
“Your own father left you. Now, I’m doing the same. The weekend visits will stop, then the phone calls. And then it will just be you, Mandy, all alone night after night after night.”
She sobbed harder. Salt on her cheeks, champagne on her lips. So alone. The black abyss. Alone, alone, alone.
“Face it, Mandy,” he said gently. “You’re not good enough to keep a man. You’re nothing but a drunk. Christ, I’m breaking up with you, and all you can think about is that third bottle of champagne. That’s the truth, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
She tried to shake her head. She ended up nodding.
“Mandy,” he whispered. “Speed up.”
“Why didn’t Daddy come home for my birthday? But I want Daddy!”
“Sweet, sexy Mandy.”
Fill me up. Make me whole.
So alone . . .
“You hurt, Mandy. I know you hurt. But I’ll help you, baby. Speed up.”
Salt on her cheeks. Champagne on her lips. Her foot settling on the gas . . .
“One little push of the accelerator, and you’ll never be lonely again. You’ll never have to miss me.”
Her foot . . . The approaching curve in the road. So alone. God, I’m tired.
“Come on, Mandy. Speed up.”
Her foot pressing down . . .
At the last minute, she saw him. A man on the narrow shoulder of the country road. Walking his dog, looking startled to see a vehicle at this time of the morning, then even more surprised to have it bearing down on him.
Turn! Turn! Must turn! Amanda Jane Quincy jerked frantically at the wheel. . . .
And it remained pointed straight ahead. Her lover still gripped it, and he held it tight.
Time suspended. Mandy looked up without comprehension at the face she had grown to love. She saw the rushing dark through the window behind him. She saw the seat belt strapped tight across his strong, broad chest. And she heard him say, “Bye-bye, sweet Mandy. When you get to hell, be sure to give your father my regards.”
The Explorer hit the man. Thump bump. A short-circuited cry. The vehicle plowed ahead. And just as she was thinking it would be okay, she was still in one piece, they were still in one piece, the telephone pole reared out of the darkness.
Mandy never had time to scream. The Explorer hit the thick wooden pole at thirty-five miles per hour. The front bumper drove down, the back end came up. And her unsecured body vaulted from the driver’s seat into the windshield, where the hard metal frame crushed the top of her skull.
The passenger had no such problems. The seat belt caught his chest, pushing him back into his seat even as the front end of the Explorer crumpled. His neck snapped forward. His internal organs rushed up in his chest, momentarily cutting off his air. He gasped, blinked his eyes, and seconds later, the pressure was gone. The SUV settled