If She Only Knew by Lisa Jackson Page B

gain a reaction from her. He was testing her to see how much she really did remember. As if what—he didn’t believe her? Why would she fake amnesia? Was there something she didn’t know about herself, something that would make him distrust her?
    Paterno lowered himself into the single plastic chair stuffed into one corner of the room. “From what we can tell from the skid marks, you were driving Pamela Delacroix’s Mercedes south, presumably going to Santa Cruz where Pamela’s daughter, Julie, attended college. You rounded a corner going uphill and swerved. The truck, coming from the opposite direction, braked hard to avoid you or whatever it was you were trying to miss. It jackknifed and went through the guardrail on one side of the road, your car broke through on the other. Pamela wasn’t wearing a seat belt and was thrown out of the car. Her neck was broken and she died instantly.” Marla’s stomach tightened. Bile rose in her throat at the sheer horror and the guilt of it all. “The semi rolled down the hill through the woods before hitting a tree and exploding. Someone saw the fireball and called 911 just before the first witnesses, an older couple heading north, arrived.”
    Marla closed her eyes, shaken, the images he sketched painted in vivid colors in her mind. Tears burned her eyelids and she felt suddenly ill, as if she might throw up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered clumsily.
    â€œMe, too.” The detective didn’t sound as if he meant it, and when she met his eyes again she saw a hardness within their dark depths, disbelief and accusation shimmering just below the surface of his gaze. Another cop who’d seen too much.
    Getting to his feet, he fished in his pocket and placed a card on the table. He snapped off the recorder and jammed it into his pocket. “That’s it for today, but if you remember anything, contact me.”
    â€œI will,” she promised, then noticed movement in the partially open doorway. She’d been concentrating so hard on Paterno and the accident she hadn’t seen Nick arrive. She wondered how long he’d been there, how much he’d heard.
    â€œIsn’t she supposed to have a lawyer present when she talks to the police?” he asked stepping into the room. His black hair glistened as if he’d been in the rain, his eyes touched hers for a heart-stopping second, then his gaze skated away to focus on the detective. Paterno flipped his notebook closed and dropped it into a pocket.
    â€œMrs. Cahill and I have already been through this. She hasn’t been charged with anything.”
    â€œAlex said something about possible manslaughter.”
    Her blood ran cold. Her head thundered. Was that possible? Prison?
    â€œWe haven’t ruled anything out,” the detective said, rubbing his jaw. “You’re not the husband?”
    â€œNo.” Nick’s voice was firm and he glanced at Marla for a second, sending her a silent unreadable message that even in that short instant made her realize that he was making a point. “I’m her brother-in-law. ‘The husband’s’ brother. Nick Cahill.” He offered the detective his hand.
    Paterno’s fingers surrounded Nick’s larger hand. He gave it a quick, sharp pump.
    â€œYou’re from Oregon, right?”
    â€œDevil’s Cove.” Nick didn’t bother to smile. “Don’t ask. I think it was named by a drunken lumberjack or sailor.”
    â€œYou come down just to see the family?”
    â€œI was asked to. Business.”
    â€œNot because of the accident?”
    â€œThat had something to do with it.” Nick’s face was a mask without emotion, his features set, his jaw beginning to darken with five o’clock shadow.
    Paterno chewed his gum in earnest as he digested the answer. With a square finger, he tapped on the card he’d left on the table and glanced back at Marla.