Dirty Summer 8

Blair ended the call from her steering wheel, and adjusted her rearview mirror to get a better look at the damage the crying had done to her mascara. Dammit.

She still had ten minutes of road ahead of her before making it to the station. Plenty of time to pull myself together. It felt good to release the breath she had been holding for what seemed like a month.

Blair slowed the car in the KANG parking lot and pulled into the closest space to the back door. The satellite trucks were all gone. Must be a busy news day. She reached for her purse as the words of a country song belted out through the radio. Are you kidding me? Of all the country songs on all the country stations, the one I danced to in the cove has to play right now.

She jabbed at the radio button, silencing the song. I’m not dealing with this right now. Pinching her cheeks a few times, and brushing the wrinkles from her suit, she charged into the newsroom.

“Where have you been?” Ray roared over the rows of news desks. “If you don’t get to the scene of the accident now, there’s not going to be any B-roll for you to take and you might as well look like you’re doing any ole traffic story.”

Blair glared at Ray. “I got here as fast as I could. You called me in on my day off.”

“Whatever.” Ray waved her on. “Get down there before you miss the whole damn thing.”

Blair didn’t bother to check her email or grab the stack of notes in her inbox. She turned toward the exit doors and ran back out into the Texas heat.

She didn’t know what Ray was fussing about. There was plenty of evidence of the last hit and run on the side of the Texas service road. Blair pulled up behind the police car and put her car in park. She couldn’t see all of the vehicles from her vantage point, so she walked across the road to survey the damage. The tow trucks had just arrived.

“You with the station?” The officer stepped from the accident and tipped his cowboy hat at Blair.

“Hi, yes, I’m Blair Emory from KANG.”

“Officer Justin.” He smiled. “You ok?”

Blair’s ankle gave a little in her pumps. “Your name is Justin?” She straightened her stance.

“I can spell it out for you, so your people get it right on the screen. It’s J-U-S-T-I-N. Bob Justin. You think it’d be an easy name to spell, but they sure do like to get creative with it.”

Blair reached out to grab hold of the police car. She would blame it on the heat.

“Do you need to sit down or something?” Officer Justin stepped closer.

Embarrassed, Blair faked a smile. “No. No. I’m ok. Would you mind showing me the damage and the vehicles? I think my photographer is up ahead getting the footage.”

“Sure. Let’s stay on this side of the road so you don’t have to worry about the glass.” Office Justin pointed at the debris. “It started five cars ahead with that trailer.”

Blair looked around the side of the tow truck. Are you kidding me?

“Seems like whoever the suspect is hit that boat up there first, which lead to this chain reaction.” He whistled.

Blair looked at the wooden boat sitting on the back of the trailer. Her stomach lurched into the back of her throat.

“Hey, where are you going?” the officer called as Blair ran toward her car.

She didn’t bother to answer. The universe or her heart was talking to her. It didn’t matter which, because they both were saying the same thing.

Two

Blair

Blair’s hands were trembling as she parked the car in front of the boathouse. This has to be the single most insane thing I have ever done. She looked through the window of the workshop building and saw a figure walk past the glass. An instant swirl of butterflies descended on her stomach.

Of all the nights for Maggie to work late, this would be the one. It was nine o’clock, and her phone hadn’t rung once. After she fled the accident scene on the side of the road in Dallas, Blair headed back to the apartment to pack a bag. She had enough coherent thoughts strung together to remember October in North Carolina was chilly.

With her suitcase in hand, she rushed straight for the airport. Luckily, flights between Raleigh and Dallas were frequent. She was on the next flight to Raleigh three hours later, and touched down in her home state at five o’clock. She decided not to worry about the hefty credit card bill she had just incurred from her hasty ticket purchase.

It all happened so fast; she didn’t have a great plan. She watched the shadowy figure pass by the window again. Well, I didn’t just spend a fortune and fly across half the country to sit in my car. She pushed open the car door and walked toward the boathouse office door.

She bit down on her bottom lip. Justyn would be just as excited to see me; he had to be. She knocked on the door.