Chapter 11 - The Man Who Followed Her
Detective Ortiz traced the caller through a prepaid number, but the man contacted Nora first. He would talk only at an abandoned roadside diner north of Peekskill. Ortiz wanted officers nearby; Nora wanted him to feel safe enough to stay.
They compromised. Nora waited inside with Mateo. Ortiz parked across the road, out of sight.
The caller arrived wearing a trucker's jacket and a face marked by years of bad sleep.
“My name's David Wynn,” he said. “I drove security jobs for Northbridge. That night they gave me ten thousand dollars to follow Lydia.”
“Who hired you?” Nora asked.
“Malcolm handled the payment. Celeste gave the instructions.”
Mateo placed his phone face down, recording with David's consent.
David rubbed his palms together. “Lydia stopped near an exit. She knew we were behind her. Another car came up fast. It clipped her rear bumper and pushed her off the road.”
“Who drove it?”
“I couldn't see. Celeste was in my passenger seat when it happened.”
Nora felt the blood drain from her face.
“Lydia got out,” David continued. “She was hurt, but she was talking. She kept asking for her daughter. Celeste took her bag. When Lydia reached for the phone, Celeste stepped on her hand.”
“Why wait to call for help?”
David's eyes filled. “Celeste said an ambulance would bring questions. I went back to check Lydia. She was still breathing. By the time I made the call, she wasn't answering.”
Nora wanted to strike him. Instead she asked, “Why are you telling us now?”
“I have a daughter. I saw your little girl's face on the news after the gala. I can't sleep anymore.”
He slid a storage-key receipt across the table. His old dashboard camera had recorded part of the chase. He'd kept the memory card because he was afraid they'd blame everything on him.
A black SUV appeared in the parking lot. David saw it and stood so abruptly his chair fell.
“That's them.”
Ortiz's unmarked car accelerated from across the road. Mateo pulled Nora behind the counter.
The SUV never stopped. A passenger threw something through the diner's front window. Glass burst over the floor.
May you like
It wasn't a bomb.
It was a brick wrapped in a photograph of Ivy leaving school.
