Chapter 5: Red Light

The sheriff's substation smelled of burnt coffee and floor wax.

Dane was already in the lobby when the deputies walked me in.

He wore a clean shirt and the sad, brave face he saved for funerals.

Beside him stood his mother in her church cardigan, and Lindsey, holding his arm.

"There she is," his mother said, loud enough for the desk clerk to hear. "The girl who stole from my son."

"I didn't steal anything," I said. "The money was mine."

"It was our wedding fund," Dane said gently. "She's confused. She had a head injury."

"Four days," Lindsey said. "She's not herself."

I did not look at her yet.

A detective in a grey suit came out of the back office. He had a notepad, and he looked tired already.

"Ms. Holt. Mr. Prewitt says you grabbed the wheel of his truck."

"He was drunk," I said. "He ran the red light at Route Two and hit a delivery van, and he walked away and left me in the passenger seat."

"That's a serious thing to say."

"Then check it."

"The van's in the tow yard," the detective said. "The driver's in a coma. There's no witness."

"There's a dashcam."

Dane blinked.

"It's in the van's glovebox," I said. "In a blue case. A spare card."

I had no idea how I knew that.

"He'd keep one there," said Plus One quietly. "Anyone would. The one in the mount only holds an hour, and the spare holds the whole route."

"How do you know?" I whispered, with my lips barely moving.

"I'm a thorough sidekick."

The detective looked at Dane.

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