“You’re welcome.” He checked his watch. “It was nice meeting you, but we need to be on our way.”
“Wait a minute,” Libby said. “I really should buy a top for the red-and-orange skirt.” She found one in the perfect pale orange shade and added it to her bill. She took the lime-green shopping bags Abigail handed her and followed Santos out the front door.
&nbs
p; Manuel opened the SUV’s doors for them. Libby shot a quick glance up and down the street before she slipped into the car, while Santos leaned against the door and searched more thoroughly.
Even without the brace, he was still more comfortable in the front seat. “Drive around awhile. It doesn’t matter where you go; let’s just see if anyone follows.”
Manuel nodded, but before they reached the corner, a black pickup truck pulled out of a narrow side street and entered their lane. “Don’t turn around,” Manuel advised, “but we may already have one.”
Libby watched the rearview mirror. “There’s just the driver. Do you suppose he left Victoria at home?”
Manuel changed lanes to make a right turn and the pickup followed. “I’ll go straight for a while and see if he turns.”
“He could be Abigail’s boyfriend and merely curious about where we’re going,” Libby offered.
“He could be someone who followed us earlier,” Santos argued. “Or he could be on his way to work.” He kept his eye on the side mirror. “Let’s try a left turn.”
Manuel had to wait for a pause in the traffic to compete the turn, and the light changed as he went through the intersection. Speeding to following them, the black pickup sped through the red light just as a large refrigerator truck surged into the intersection. Libby heard the scream of brakes, then a terrible crushing roar as the truck slammed broadside into the pickup.
“Pull over and stop,” Santos shouted, and Manuel pulled to the curb. “You stay here, Libby. You don’t need to see this.”
She felt too sick to move but opened her car door to look out as Manuel and Santos headed toward the intersection. The flow of traffic had stopped so suddenly, there had been several rear-end collisions. People were getting out of their cars to view the damage and check out the major wreck up close. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her stomach. They hadn’t caused the wreck; the driver of the pick-up truck had run the light, but she still felt as though it were her fault. The smell of burnt rubber stung her eyes.
The airbag had inflated, but the driver of the pickup was trapped in the twisted wreckage. The man who’d been driving the large truck sat on the curb, crying. A white-haired woman who’d been passing by stopped to pat his shoulder, while others shied away. Clerks came out of nearby businesses to stand around and observe, while Santos and Manuel remained unnoticed in the background. Santos called Detective Nuñez. The firefighters were still working to free the injured driver from the mangled pickup truck when he arrived.
The detective’s eyes were bloodshot, and he appeared to have as little enthusiasm for Santos’s cause as he had displayed previously. “I do not routinely cover traffic accidents. Please explain how you are involved.”
Santos provided a succinct account of the time leading up to the accident. “I don’t know why he followed us, but he may be the one who’s trying to kill me.”
“And maybe not,” Nuñez replied. “If Ms. Gunderson was with you, where is she now?”
“Just down the street. Manuel, we shouldn’t have left her alone.”
“I’ll go.” The chauffeur took off at a run.
Santos watched until Manuel had reached their SUV and waved. “Do you want to speak to her?”
“No. Will you be home later this afternoon? I should have the accident victim’s name for you by then. If he’s an artist who owns a rifle, we may have found the man we’re after.”
“I sent you another drawing.”
“I’ll add it to the file. You needn’t remain here. If this wasn’t the man who’s after you, you ought not to be standing in the street.”
Santos nodded and made his way back to his car. Libby’s beautiful complexion had taken on a pale green tinge that worried him. “We won’t know anything until the man’s freed from the wreck. We’re going home. Will you be all right until we get there?”
“I think so.”
Apparently not convinced, he placed his crutches in the front seat, climbed into the backseat and drew her into his arms. “It was frightening,” he offered softly, “but not as bad as being shot at.”
“No, that was definitely worse. Maybe everything just caught up with me all of a sudden. Give me a minute, and I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have to be fine. I’m the one who has to be fearless.”
“You really are. Will the police need us as witnesses?”
“Nuñez has our names. Other people saw the accident. All you need do is forget it.”