Chapter 3

A tight knot of anxiety twisted in Josie's stomach as she drove to the location Turner had texted her. She knew the road. It was a two-lane strip of asphalt that spider-legged into the mountains northwest of Denton. As it wound out of the more densely populated part of the city, foliage closed in on either side. April had brought lots of rain and now, in May, the trees were lush and wild, branches forming a canopy over the road. Josie put down her window to take in some of the fresh air. She hated fatalities of any kind, and she was not looking forward to notifying the family of the accident victim. She'd have to shatter someone's entire life today and then smile and be genial tomorrow morning when the case manager came to their house for the home study. As usual, the only way to get through a tough shift on this job was to compartmentalize like it was an Olympic sport.

The road slowly inclined and the shade of the trees fell away. On either side, untouched tracts of grass and brush spread, pushing the forest back. She passed a small farm, black cows lumbering across a green field. The smell of manure suffused the air. Putting the window back up, Josie punched her gas pedal, speeding away. There was an occasional residence sitting a few acres back from the road but for the most part there wasn't much out this way, not for miles. As she crested a hill, she saw emergency lights strobing red and blue. The road had been closed except for where patrol officers stood alongside the southbound shoulder, ready to guide any vehicles past the cluster of police cars and ambulances should anyone happen to be driving along. A fire truck slanted across both lanes. Josie had to pull around it to get the full picture of what had happened.

On the northbound side of the road, heading out of Denton, stood a souped-up Ford F-150 pickup truck. Its back was angled toward the shoulder. The driver's side door hung open. Yellow caution tape formed a perimeter around it. Two uniformed officers stood sentry along the border of the scene, ensuring no one crossed the tape without authorization. As Josie parked her vehicle and got out, a prickle of apprehension crawled up the back of her neck. The Denton police Evidence Response Team's SUV was parked nearby, its hatch open. Beside that was the small white pickup truck that belonged to their county medical examiner, Dr. Anya Feist.

The uniformed officers nodded at Josie in greeting as she moved past them. The front end of the Ford had turned a tiny blue Hyundai sedan into a facsimile of a crushed soda can. Josie tried not to visibly wince at the destruction. Officer Hummel and his ERT techs moved methodically through the scene, dressed in white Tyvek suits, complete with skull caps and booties. Hummel, the head of their ERT, stood near the passenger's seat of the sedan, scribbling on a clipboard. Dr. Feist, also garbed in a Tyvek suit, lingered behind him, her crime scene bag in hand.

One of the uniformed officers, Brennan, beckoned Josie. He, too, had a clipboard in hand to record every person who entered and left the scene. "Thought Turner and Palmer were on today," he said.

Josie sighed. "So did I." She gestured toward the sedan. "The car crossed the lines directly into the path of the F-150. The truck couldn't stop in time. What else do you have?"

Brennan quirked a brow. "How can you tell all that?"

"The truck is on the northbound side. It was headed away from Denton. Skid marks behind it where it tried to stop abruptly. The sedan was headed back to the city and crossed over. That's why it's facing south but not in the southbound lane. The truck is bigger, taller. The crash probably had little impact on its cab. Truck driver is fine?"

"He's upset but yeah, physically he's fine."

"What's his name?"

"Nolan Waters. Forty-seven. No warrants and no priors. Lives in Denton. Breathalyzer test was clean. He passed the field sobriety test with flying colors, and he's agreed to be transported to the hospital to have his blood tested for illegal substances." Brennan used his pen to point toward a cruiser parked in the southbound lane. "He said he was driving along, saw the car coming toward him. There were no other vehicles on the road in either direction. Everything seemed fine and then at the last minute, the car swerved directly in front of him. Bam!"

"No sign of a struggle inside the car before it crossed in front of him?" Josie asked.

"Not that he could see. He has no idea what happened or why the car came into his lane of traffic. Said it happened in a millisecond."

The things that changed lives irrevocably often did happen in milliseconds. Blink and you'd miss it. "The fatality was someone in the car, then."

"Yeah. The sedan is registered to a woman called Mira Summers. Thirty-seven. She also lives in Denton. No warrants, no priors. Her purse was in the car. ID matches up, so we know that she was driving."

"How many people were in the car?"

"Two adult females."

Josie saw the deflated driver's side airbag peeking out from the destroyed windshield of the sedan. Behind it was an empty seat. Scanning the scene, she saw two ambulances. One for Mira Summers and one to transport the fatality to the morgue. "Is Summers badly injured?"

"She was disoriented when we arrived and quickly lapsed into unconsciousness," said Brennan. "EMTs have been trying to rouse her. They're going to take her to the hospital now, I think. I had Dougherty go to her residence to see if anyone else lives with her—family or partner—just in case things go south for her."

"That's good." Josie glanced over at the ambulances again, noticing activity in the back of one of them. "I'll check with the EMTs before they take her. The passenger is deceased?"

"Yeah." Brennan used the tip of his pen to scratch at the bridge of his nose. Josie could tell by the way he grimaced that there was something she hadn't deduced. "But not from the car accident."

The knot of anxiety in Josie's stomach tightened. "Are you saying we've got a homicide?"

"See for yourself."