Debra Burroughs - Paradise Valley 04.5 - The Color of Lies by Debra Burroughs

Chapter 1
    “That Will Ferrell is hilarious.” Colin laughed as he and Emily pulled out of the movie theater parking lot and onto a main street. It was almost eleven at night and their fellow movie goers were streaming out of the lot as well.
    “He’s weird, too,” she said. “Next time, let’s make it a romantic comedy.” She leaned toward him, batting her turquoise eyes. “I enjoy them so much more than that stupid physical slapstick stuff.”
    He glanced away from Emily and back at the road. “You want me to sit through a chick flick?” The corner of his mouth quirked.
    She straightened in her seat. “They call them ‘date movies’ these—”
    Boom! Like a bomb blast, the deafening sounds of crashing metal and exploding glass filled the Jeep as the impact forced it to slide sideways, followed by the squeal of skidding tires and the acrid smell of burning rubber. Heat stung his face as the airbags burst out.
    Both vehicles screeched to a halt.
    His first thought was her.
    “Emily!” Colin screamed, punching down his airbag. He turned to check on her, but she was encased by her deflating airbag and held prisoner by the bent door frame.
    Her head hung limply to the left and blood matted a section of her blond curls. Colin could only hope the injury wasn’t too severe—from this angle he couldn’t tell exactly where the blood was coming from, aside from assuming she had a gash on the side of her head, evidenced by bits of broken glass scattered in her hair and pooled on her chest and the airbag.
    “Emily,” he called again, but no response. He leaned close to her, she was breathing, but just barely.
    The crash had hit on the passenger side, crumpling the metal around her, pinning her into her seat. Colin forced his door open with his shoulder and jumped out, shaking small pieces of glass off his clothes. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he dialed nine-one-one as he sprinted around the Jeep.
    “This is Detective Colin Andrews, Paradise Valley Police, badge number five-seven-seven. There’s been a ten-fifty PD, vehicular accident with injuries, at the corner of State Street and Prescott Way. We’re going to need EMS, Code-Three.”
    While talking to the operator, he checked on the driver of the older brown pickup truck that had T-boned them. A middle-aged man, dressed in a rumpled white shirt and worn jeans, was slumped against the steering wheel. “You’d better make that times two.”
    He shoved the phone back in his pocket and glanced again at Emily, his chest tightening as he stared at her, unconscious and battered. A stream of fresh bright red blood continued to carve an ugly path through her blond curls. He yanked hard on the car door, but it wouldn’t budge. He was helpless to do anything for her until the emergency crews arrived.
    His attention switched back to the driver of the pickup. “Mister, can you hear me?”
    The man groaned, blood oozing from a deep gash below his eye where he must have hit the rigid steering wheel. His breath reeked of alcohol.
    Colin’s hands balled into fists and his arms tensed as he gritted his teeth. It was all he could do not to drag the man out of his truck and beat the crap out of him.
    He turned back to Emily, frantic, trying to pull the door open again, but the way the truck had smashed it in against her, it was immovable. She was trapped. Only a couple of feet sat between her and the truck’s grill.
    Sirens in the distance caught Colin’s attention, growing louder as they raced closer. “Hold on, Emily.” He reached in through the broken window and checked her pulse, relieved that she still had one.
    Within minutes, the crash site was teaming with emergency vehicles, bright lights flashing in every direction. A couple of officers and a fireman slipped the truck into neutral and pushed it out of the way so other firemen could move in and use the jaws of life to extricate Emily.
    Paramedics pulled the man from his truck. He flailed around and mumbled