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“Oh, my God,” Kathy Ann whined.

“Jesus,” Keefer said.

“We’re going to have that truck towed and impounded if you don’t open this door,” the policeman threatened.

“Damn it,” Keefer said. “Okay, put on the lights,” he told Kathy Ann. She was too terrified to move, so I did it. Then he opened the door.

“That your truck below?” the policeman asked him immediately.

“No. It belongs to my boss,” Keefer replied.

“Step outside, please,” he said. He looked in at us. “You, too, ladies,” he added.

“Why?” Kathy Ann whined.

The policeman just stepped aside for us to come out and we did. The three of us stood on the landing with both of the police officers.

“You were driving that truck a few minutes ago, then?”

“Yes,” Keefer said.

“Which one of you was in the truck? C’mon,” he said, “the man lodging the complaint saw two people.”

Kathy Ann was actually trembling.

“I was,” I confessed.

“You know it is a serious offense to leave the scene of an accident?” he asked Keefer.

“What accident?”

He smiled.

“You’re not going to stand there and tell us you don’t remember hitting another vehicle, are you? The other vehicle’s paint is on the truck.”

Keefer looked at me.

“I told you I thought

I might have hit something,” he said.

“I didn’t think you had,” I said.

The two policemen stared at us a moment.

“Let me see your license,” the first policeman asked Keefer. He took out his wallet and produced it.

“This your apartment?” he asked Keefer.

“No.”

“Whose is it then?”

“My sister’s music partner,” I said. “We’re living here temporarily.”

“Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” I said, glancing at Keefer, who tried to hide his eyes.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Broken Wings Horror