Free What She Doesn't Know by Tina Wainscott Page A

His jacket and jeans took most of the scrapes. He let them clean and put salve on him but not a bandage. By the time they were cleared, Connard was waiting for them in the lobby. He was clearly surprised to see the two of them together, but she didn’t give him a chance to ask.  
    She walked over to him. “Now you’ve got to investigate Brian’s fall. Someone tried to run me down—again. I didn’t see the driver, but it has to be the same person who came to Boston. Christopher was there, he can tell you what happened.”
    Connard’s normally neutral expression was tainted with skepticism, but he turned to Christopher.  
    “I don’t think it was intentional. The driver was probably stoned.”
    Rita’s mouth dropped open. “What? How can you say that? You were there!”
    He held up his hand as though to ward her off. “What I saw was a car veering toward you. I heard squealing tires as he took the corner too fast. I don’t think he had control of the car.”
    “He drove right at me! Oh, this is ridiculous.” She waved him away and faced Connard. “It was intentional, the same way the car hitting me in Boston was intentional.”
    “A car hit you in Boston?” Christopher asked.
    She ignored him, which was much better than grabbing his coat and shaking sense into him. “Can’t you see, there’s a pattern here?”
    Connard said, “The officer I spoke with in Boston said he thought the driver was a teen who had stolen the vehicle for a joyride.”
    “Why would a joy-rider purposely try to hit another car?” she asked.
    “Why do joy-riders shoot paint guns at pedestrians? Why do they run up on curbs and lay out people on the sidewalk? Drugs can make people do crazy things.” He glanced at Christopher, and then pulled Rita a short distance away and spoke in a low, calming voice. “Brain injuries can make people do crazy things, too. Being in a coma could make a person paranoid, maybe think that people are trying to kill her.”
    She had to reign in her anger. “I’m not crazy, and this has nothing to do with my being in a coma. Well, it does, but not because I’m brain damaged.”
    His hand was still on her shoulder. “Here’s what I suggest: you get on your flight tomorrow and forget about New Orleans. Forget about that guy in the coma. Be safe.”
    She pulled out of his grasp. “Am I being paranoid when someone has tried to run me down twice in a six week period of time?”
    “I think you’re just unlucky. We’re talking two different states and two different types of accidents.”
    “Using a car as a weapon both times. I know you have to look at things objectively. That’s your job. But you”—she turned to Christopher—”you were there. Why can’t you see that it was intentional?”
    “I stopped seeing demons in every shadow a long time ago,” he said, one of those shadows in his eyes.
    Rita wanted to scream in her frustration. Since that would only contribute to Connard’s view of her, and Christopher’s as well, she simply stalked away. This time she kept a careful eye on what was going on around her as she made her way to her car. Once inside, she warmed up the engine and let the adrenaline and frustration drain from her body. She felt an overwhelming urge to cry, which seemed weak and ineffective. She heaved great gulps of air to keep it at bay.
    Was Christopher’s denial a way of protecting someone? She had to admit, as much as she wanted to see him as a bad guy, he had saved her life. She grimaced when she reached to put the car into gear. Her elbow ached.
    “Breakfast,” she said, heading out of the parking lot. She spotted a beige sedan in a spot near the exit that looked like the car that had tried to run her down. “It was on purpose,” she said. She was sure that the driver wouldn’t have left the car in the lot even if he had stolen it, so she continued on, keeping an eye on her rear view mirror…looking for evil in every shadow.  

 
    CHAPTER 7
     
    After