first room where she quickly unlocked the door and shuffled us inside. She rounded the desk and started typing on the computer. “Okay, this database can search any reports through two thousand eight. We’re slowly working on cases before that.” She glanced out the window then back at us. “You two owe me.” And with that she left the room.
I sat at the desk. Amy had opened a database for us. My heart thrummed in my chest.
I typed in “Cara Baker”.
Mom’s license photo appeared on the screen, sending thousands of pinpricks all over my body.
There wasn’t any information I didn’t already know.
A
click
moved my attention to the other side of the room. Tucker stood in front of an open file cabinet.
“What’re you doing?”
“You heard her—the accident won’t be on there. It was before two thousand eight.”
I hesitated for a moment. He was right. I got up from the chair and went to him. “How do you know what you’re looking for?”
He snorted. “I don’t. These all seem to be labeled by case number.”
I bit my lip and looked out the window. Who knew how much time we had left. What if those guys came back sooner? Amy would definitely kick us out. And this would all be for nothing. Or at least another dead end.
I glanced at the computer, spurring an idea. I clicked away from Mom’s license photo and the search list came up with only one other link with her name. It led to a short report of the car accident. It was a scanned copy of a newspaper article but at the top of the page was a case number. I stumbled over the numbers, reading them for Tucker. He moved through the files quickly.
“It’s not here.” He closed that drawer and opened the one below. He scanned the files, tracing his finger along the top of each one.
With each
flip flap
sound my breathing sputtered.
“Got it!” He pulled out a thin file and shook it.
I raced to his side and snatched it from his hand, spreading it over the top of the other files.
Tucker slapped his hand over the top of the file.
My teeth ground together as I looked up at him.
He tilted his head. “What if there are pictures?”
“So?” I snapped.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. “You won’t be able to un-see anything.”
I moved the file from under his hand. “I don’t care.” I sucked in a breath, not willing to admit that his warning unnerved me. I opened the file. Thankfully the first page was a report. No nightmarish pictures.
Tucker moved to my side. “Is that the autopsy report?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would they do an autopsy if she was in a car accident?”
“Sometimes they do them if there are no witnesses to the crime.”
“How did you know that?”
“Remember? I like crime books.” Little did he know I’d done extensive research on many aspects of death after the accident.
I read through the injuries Mom had sustained in the accident. Pictures couldn’t touch the visions I had in my mind just looking at the list. Dozens of lacerations all over her body. Broken bones. I’d seen autopsy reports briefly as they flashed over my television screen during a number of crime shows, yet this one was different. Personal. Not only because it was my mom’s but also because every single injury was described in excruciating detail. My breakfast threatened to return with a vengeance. I pushed through and read each word as if the truth was held between each letter.
“Holy—” Tucker trailed off.
“What is it?”
He pointed to the last line on the second page. How had he read through that quickly?
I read the line aloud, as if somehow it wouldn’t be true or add a million more questions to my already filled mind.
I read it aloud again. It still didn’t make sense. “Remains Identified by Abigail Taylor. So?”
“That’s Bri’s mom.”
My mouth went dry. “She knew my mother?”
Tucker’s eyebrows rose. “Apparently.”
Had Bri known this? Is that why she wanted to separate from me? Was
I sat at the desk. Amy had opened a database for us. My heart thrummed in my chest.
I typed in “Cara Baker”.
Mom’s license photo appeared on the screen, sending thousands of pinpricks all over my body.
There wasn’t any information I didn’t already know.
A
click
moved my attention to the other side of the room. Tucker stood in front of an open file cabinet.
“What’re you doing?”
“You heard her—the accident won’t be on there. It was before two thousand eight.”
I hesitated for a moment. He was right. I got up from the chair and went to him. “How do you know what you’re looking for?”
He snorted. “I don’t. These all seem to be labeled by case number.”
I bit my lip and looked out the window. Who knew how much time we had left. What if those guys came back sooner? Amy would definitely kick us out. And this would all be for nothing. Or at least another dead end.
I glanced at the computer, spurring an idea. I clicked away from Mom’s license photo and the search list came up with only one other link with her name. It led to a short report of the car accident. It was a scanned copy of a newspaper article but at the top of the page was a case number. I stumbled over the numbers, reading them for Tucker. He moved through the files quickly.
“It’s not here.” He closed that drawer and opened the one below. He scanned the files, tracing his finger along the top of each one.
With each
flip flap
sound my breathing sputtered.
“Got it!” He pulled out a thin file and shook it.
I raced to his side and snatched it from his hand, spreading it over the top of the other files.
Tucker slapped his hand over the top of the file.
My teeth ground together as I looked up at him.
He tilted his head. “What if there are pictures?”
“So?” I snapped.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. “You won’t be able to un-see anything.”
I moved the file from under his hand. “I don’t care.” I sucked in a breath, not willing to admit that his warning unnerved me. I opened the file. Thankfully the first page was a report. No nightmarish pictures.
Tucker moved to my side. “Is that the autopsy report?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would they do an autopsy if she was in a car accident?”
“Sometimes they do them if there are no witnesses to the crime.”
“How did you know that?”
“Remember? I like crime books.” Little did he know I’d done extensive research on many aspects of death after the accident.
I read through the injuries Mom had sustained in the accident. Pictures couldn’t touch the visions I had in my mind just looking at the list. Dozens of lacerations all over her body. Broken bones. I’d seen autopsy reports briefly as they flashed over my television screen during a number of crime shows, yet this one was different. Personal. Not only because it was my mom’s but also because every single injury was described in excruciating detail. My breakfast threatened to return with a vengeance. I pushed through and read each word as if the truth was held between each letter.
“Holy—” Tucker trailed off.
“What is it?”
He pointed to the last line on the second page. How had he read through that quickly?
I read the line aloud, as if somehow it wouldn’t be true or add a million more questions to my already filled mind.
I read it aloud again. It still didn’t make sense. “Remains Identified by Abigail Taylor. So?”
“That’s Bri’s mom.”
My mouth went dry. “She knew my mother?”
Tucker’s eyebrows rose. “Apparently.”
Had Bri known this? Is that why she wanted to separate from me? Was
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