Maybe not.
It didn’t matter, she’d weathered worse. Far worse.
Her fingers tightened over the wheel as she thought about the reporter. Wesley Tate had a lot of nerve. A lot.
But he did lose his father in the tragedy. You weren’t the only one who suffered a loss that night. Remember. Edmund Tate died because he saved you.
She felt that same bit of remorse she always did when she thought of the off-duty cop who’d chased her through the frigid forest that night. She reached the end of the street, slowed for the stop sign at the corner, and took one last glance at her drive. He was still there, watching her leave, long legs spaced apart, arms crossed over his chest, eyes following her.
Well, let him look all he wanted.
And let him come up with some new lunatic scheme to try to force her to talk to him.
She wouldn’t do it.
No interview.
Not with Wesley Tate or any one of the dozens of others who were calling. Despite the fact that her brother was now out of prison, that part of her life was over. O. V. E. R.
CHAPTER 9
He was losing her.
Tate thought fast, and started walking even faster.
He would have to play it for all it was worth, so he limped a little, as if his leg were bothering him. Bending down to rub his knee, he glanced up and saw the back of her car as it crested the hill.
Then brake lights.
Maybe she had second thoughts. Hadn’t she seen him in her sideview mirror? As the SUV disappeared over the rise, he straightened. He’d lost her. “Damn it.” He started walking as he heard an engine a distance down the block behind him and looked over his shoulder to spy the nose of her red Jeep appearing from behind a hedge.
Her SUV.
Coming around the corner behind him. She’d circled the block.
He felt a smile curve his lips and quickly bit down, turning his expression into a grimace, as if he were in pain.
And he kept walking, but now with a visible limp.
He heard the Jeep approach, then slow. She rolled down the driver’s side window.
“So you’re not okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine.” At least that wasn’t a lie. He kept walking but could see her in his peripheral vision.
Her eyebrows had drawn together over the tops of her sunglasses. “You’re sure? I mean . . . maybe you should see a doctor.”
“I said, I’m—”
“I know what you said, but you’re limping.”
“It’ll work out.”
“What the hell were you doing anyway? Where’s your car?”
He was ready for that. Time to blend fact with fiction. “I was coming to see you, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to it. You know, like nosy neighbors or reporters.”
“Other reporters,” she reminded him, keeping her Jeep alongside him, barely moving as she talked through the open window.
“Right. Anyway, I parked a few blocks over, thought the exercise would be good for me.”
“And you could sneak up on me,” she guessed.
He stopped. His eyes narrowed on her. “Yeah, that was part of it. But I really thought—and still do—that we could help each other.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Then there’s nothing to say.” He started walking again, then sucked in his breath, making his knee start to buckle before he kept going.
“Oh, for the love of God, get in,” she said. “I’ll drive you to your car. Where is it?”
“Just a couple of blocks. I’ll be okay.”
“Get in, Tate!” she ordered, and he decided this was his opportunity. He’d made his point. If he argued any further, she might just take off, and he couldn’t risk losing the chance to talk to her, to convince her to confide in him. So, while her Jeep idled, he hobbled around it, keeping a hand on the hood as he made his way to the passenger side and got in.
She saw the way he’d scurried quickly. “Did you really think I’d hit you again?” she asked as he yanked the door shut.
“What?”
“You watched me the whole time you were getting in,” she accused. “Like you expected me to step on the gas. You looked ready to vault out of the way.”
“Do you blame me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because of earlier? I thought I already explained; it was an accident.” She rammed the Jeep into gear.
“Was it?”
“Of course! I mean, my part was. I’m still not convinced you didn’t fake it.” Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she slid a glance at his bent knee as the SUV started moving again. “And just so you know? I’m not buying the limp.” Before he could argue, she said, “So, okay. Where did you park?”