On My Way To You (Broken Love Duet 2)

“Motherfucker,” I hiss. I thought I understood the hell she lived after seeing the shape Mitch left her in. Hearing this just shows me there’s so much that I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

The detectives look taken back. Cage clears his throat.

“Telling you that we’re sorry for your loss doesn’t seem like the words to say here, Callie,” he says, not trying to call her Ms. Lane again.

“The last time he attacked me, I thought he had finally succeeded in killing me. If Reed and Katie hadn’t found me, he would have. As it is, I have scars all over my body and some inside that no one can see that will never heal. So, no. That wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Yes, well. There were some signs another vehicle was involved. We’re trying to track that down. A witness has come forward and said she saw a truck in the oncoming lane at a high rate of speed and another truck following it. She believed it to be a Dodge. We’re trying to track those leads down to see if we can get a complete picture of what happened.”

“I see. I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help with that, gentlemen. Yesterday is the first day I’ve really ventured out except for doctor appointments and thankfully, Mitch never tried to contact me when I was released from the hospital.”

“Well, that’s the thing. Mr. Lane, you were the deceased’s brother, correct?”

“Unfortunately,” I respond, hands crossed at my chest, standing behind Callie’s seat.

“What sort of vehicle do you drive?”

“Well, until recently all I had was a rental. I’ve been living in California. I plan on moving back here. I let my rental go back after Callie got out of the hospital. I’ve actually been driving Jeff Ryan’s truck or my boss’s until I get my vehicle back from California.”

“I see and could you tell me what model of trucks those are?” Cage says writing in a notebook.

“Jeff’s is a two-thousand-and-one Toyota Tacoma,” I respond. “Mr. Johnson’s is a two-thousand-and-seven Ford Ranger.”

“So, both smaller trucks?” the other detective asks.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us of your whereabouts on the Friday in question, Mr. Lane?”

“Am I under suspicion here, detectives?” I ask, wanting it laid out between us.

“Not officially, sir. Like I said, we’re just investigating. Still, word around town is that you and Mitch Lane didn’t exactly see eye to eye.”

“That’s not true,” I respond.

“It’s not?”

“It wasn’t a matter of seeing eye to eye. My brother was evil and dangerous. I hated him.”

“That’s not exactly taking yourself out of the lists of suspects,” the detective points out.

“I was being honest,” I answer with a shrug. “I won’t shed a tear over the asshole. I’m glad he’s gone.”

“I see,” Cage says. “Maybe we should discuss this down at the station.”

“If that’s what you—”

“Gentlemen, I think it’s pretty clear that my husband was not a good man. Honestly, he bragged to me before he died that he killed Chasity Newberg years ago and made it look like a drug overdose. I know she had family that hated Mitch. To be honest, most people in Macon hated him. Your list of suspects will only grow—if there was anyone else involved at all. That said, if it will make your job easier, I can tell you absolutely with one-hundred percent surety that Reed was nowhere near Lassiter that night.”

“With all due respect, Ma’am, it doesn’t take that long to travel to Lassiter.”

“True, but what Reed isn’t telling you because he’s too nice and conscious of my reputation to say anything, he’s been here every night.”

“Ms. Lane—”

“What time did the accident happen, Detective Cage?” she asks. I don’t bother speaking up. I’m watching Callie closely and with every moment that goes by she’s just surprising me more and more. Of course, before she gets in too deep, I’ll make sure to stop her. I’ll confess before I drag Callie down.

“We can’t be sure, but the estimated time is between nine and ten that night.”

“Estimated? So really your witness might not have even seen my husband’s truck at all?”

“Maybe, the detective allows.

“I find this whole thing ridiculous. Perhaps if you had been following complaints more often, I wouldn’t have almost been killed, because I know for a fact my neighbors lodged several against Mitch.”

“Ma’am—”

“Regardless, I can vouch that Reed was here all night. He’s been driving Mr. Johnson’s truck and that was in my driveway all night. You can ask my neighbor’s if you want.”

“Perhaps he left while you were sleeping.”

“That would be impossible.”

“Not really. You could—”

“Reed has been sleeping in my bed and with my history, gentlemen, I can tell you without a doubt that the slightest movement wakes me—and that’s if I manage to sleep.”

“Will you be willing to go on record stating that, Ms. Lane?”

“Detectives, I think this is a—”