Crash part two, p.1
Crash - Part Two, page 1
Crash – Part Two is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used ficticiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or their likeness is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Miranda Dawson
All Rights Reserved.
Cover design by Cover Shot Creations (covershotcreations.com)
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Author’s Note
Mailing List
About the Author
Chapter One
“Are you sure you’re okay, Emily?” John asked over a video call. “It’s not like you to spend a whole week with your parents, so I know something is wrong.”
“I’m fine, John.” I wiped my sleeve across my eyes to clear away any traces of the tears that had been there a few minutes ago. “I just wanted to spend some time with my parents. My dad has been going through a rough patch and I’m helping him through it.”
That was half true. Dad was having a rough time, but that was only to be expected after I invited my brother’s killer to dinner. I wasn’t helping him deal with it, because I was taking it just as badly as he was. For the last week I had locked myself in my room and only came out for food and drink.
“And you’re not going to tell me what happened with Carter?” John asked for the hundredth time.
“I don’t want to talk about it John.”
“Okay, but the guy has been hounding me with phone calls and text messages asking to speak to you. Did he do something bad? I want to know whether I should be polite or tell him to fuck off.”
“Be polite,” I said. “Things just weren’t meant to be this time.” Because he killed my brother, I thought. As excuses went, that was a good reason not to continue dating a guy.
“He keeps apologizing,” John said. “I’m supposed to tell you how sorry he is and that things are not what they seem. It all sounds a little mysterious. I’m assuming he slept with someone else?”
“Drop it, John,” I replied. How were things not as they seemed? Dad hadn’t said much that night before Carter jumped on a plane back to San Francisco, but he made it quite clear that Carter had been the one jailed for killing my brother. He had been drink-driving and the judge classed it as manslaughter. That couldn’t be much clearer, could it?
Mom and I had stayed away from the trial. We didn’t want to know the gory details of William’s death; nothing would bring him back to us. I remember being surprised by the lengthy sentence the judge handed down, but I would be lying if I said there was any pity in my heart for the killer.
Once he’d been locked up, I put it all to one side and tried to just remember my brother with a positive attitude in my heart and not a desire for revenge or vengeance. I’d always imagined the driver as a reckless bum, someone so stupid they drove drunk, someone so reckless they didn’t care about other people’s lives. But that didn’t fit with Carter. He wasn’t like that. At least, he hadn’t appeared that way to me.
“What was the problem with the business you wanted to discuss?” I asked John.
“Not a problem as such,” John said. “I’m just having trouble keeping track of all the money.”
I laughed. “That’s not a bad problem to have.”
“I know. We still have a lot to play with, but we don’t have a constant revenue stream yet. I think we could do with getting an accountant or bookkeeper on board to help. Especially with these reports that the investor is demanding.”
“What reports?” I asked. That was news to me.
“I sent her the information she requested after the initial investment. She was happy enough initially, but she made it clear that she wanted official reports on a regular basis. I don’t think my hack-job spreadsheets are going to cut it with this woman.”
“Fair enough, I suppose, given the amount Marissa invested. Okay, let’s get an accountant in.”
“Got anyone in mind?”
“No. Perhaps we could ask Marissa for a recommendation. She’s bound to have a load of contacts in the industry.”
“Sounds good,” John said. “Feel free to call me anytime, Emily, if you want to talk.”
“I will,” I lied. “There really isn’t anything to talk about. Relationships end all the time. Don’t worry about me.”
I could see from his face on the screen that he was worried and would likely continue to be until he found out the truth. I would probably have to tell him one day, but not for a while.
I simply couldn’t bring myself to admit I had fucked my brother’s killer. What kind of person did that make me? One that John wouldn’t be able to look at in the eye again, probably.
---
“Mom, can we talk?” I asked, walking downstairs once I knew my dad had left for work. I couldn’t handle seeing him right now.
“Sure, honey. What about?”
“You know what about.” The color washed from her cheeks as we sat down on the sofa.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, dear,” she said. “This whole thing has been an awful shock, of course, but we will get past it.”
“I thought I knew him, Mom,” I said, already fighting back the tears. “I mean, I knew he was a bit of a wild card and it was obvious he had secrets, but I didn’t think he was capable of something like that.”
Tears welled up in my mom’s eyes. I put my arm around her and we just sat there together for a few minutes while she regained her composure.
“It was an accident, honey,” Mom said. “I don’t know all the details—I didn’t go to the trial and didn’t want to hear about it—but from what I understand, it was just a kid who had a few too many drinks and then hit a car. William’s car.”
“Why did he get sent to jail for so long?” I asked. “I’ve always wondered why he got such a long sentence. Not that I was going to complain, of course, but it did seem odd.”
“Yes, I was surprised too,” Mom admitted. “I think the judge may have lost a family member to something similar, so he came down extra hard. I don’t know. Your father knows more about it than I do.”
“I’m so sorry for bringing him here, Mom. I had no idea.”
Mom took my hand in hers. “It’s not your fault, honey. You couldn’t have known. And anyway, when I try and see this in the cold light of day, I know that he may not be a bad person. He was young when it happened, and I’m sure he’s changed since.”
“But he has obviously been lying to me from the start,” I said. “He knew who I was, and then we… well, you know…”
“Are you going to keep seeing him?” Mom asked.
I let out a snotty laugh through my tears. “I don’t think that would go down too well with Dad, do you?”
Mom smiled. “No, probably not. But don’t worry about pleasing your dad. You just do what feels right.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. She had told me just what I needed to hear and I knew what I had to do. I would see Carter one last time—let him explain why he put me through all this—and then I would say goodbye.
No matter what happened that night five years ago, I would never be able to have a relationship with Carter. I already thought of William every time I looked at my leg; I didn’t need that to happen every time I saw Carter as well.
I booked a plane ticket and flew home. I was going to put this behind me and do something with my life. I would make my big brother proud.
Chapter Two
Carter was already at the coffee shop when I showed up. It was a good place for a personal conversation; there was just enough noise to cover up what we said from the ears of nosey neighbors and it was public. I usually managed to keep my emotions in check when in public, but I wasn’t entirely sure if that would hold true today.
“Hi, Emily,” Carter said, standing up to pull out my chair. He had the decency to not make any effort over his usually pristine appearance, but that didn’t make much difference. His hair was a mess and stubble covered his face, but that made him look even sexier. Traces of darkness under his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping all that well, but that was the only flaw I could find.
“Hi,” I said, sitting down to find a cup of coffee ready for me. Soy milk latte; my favorite.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Carter said. “I know this must have been a tough decision for you.”
“Just say what you have to say, Carter. I want to get on with my life, and I can’t very well do that when you are constantly trying to get hold of me and John. What did you want?”
Carter sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I deserved that. But I want you to know that this is not what it seems.”
“So you said in y our messages. What do you mean by that? This looks pretty clear to me. You were driving drunk. You crashed into the car me and my brother were in. You were locked up for ten years, but obviously let out a lot earlier than that. Then for some sick reason, you decided to track down the sister of the man you killed and…”
I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Without realizing, my voice had gradually been increasing in volume and a few others in the coffee shop were now staring.
“You tracked me down and then fucked me. Do I have a good understanding of all this? Is there something I am missing?”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Carter said.
Was that all he could say? What could make this any better? No doubt he would say it was all just a horrendous accident and that he shouldn’t be blamed for it. But that wouldn’t bring William back, and it wouldn’t mean I could ever look at Carter without remembering the accident.
“How much of it do you remember?” Carter asked, as if he were reading my mind. “About the accident. Do you remember much of it?”
I nodded. “I can remember a fair bit of it. I wish I couldn’t.”
“Tell me,” Carter said. “I want to know what you went through. I want to understand.”
I shook my head. “You’ll never understand. How can you possibly know what this feels like?”
Carter didn’t reply. He just stared at me with those deep eyes looking right through me. He leaned towards me on his elbows, showing me his perfectly sculpted arms. I hated myself right then. I hated myself for admiring him and for finding him so attractive.
“Fine, I’ll tell you,” I said at length, just to give myself a reason to look away from Carter’s eyes. “We were coming back from the movie theater.”
“What had you watched?”
“One of the Harry Potter films. I loved them. William hadn’t even wanted to watch it, but I didn’t want to go by myself. It was dark when we left, but William had driven in the dark loads of times, so we had no reason to think it wasn’t safe. We had been driving for about ten minutes when it happened. We were just five minutes from home. Beyoncé was playing on the radio and I was singing along.”
“You can sing?” Carter asked with a slight smile.
“No,” I admitted. “Not at all. William was the only person who had ever heard me sing. I would never sing in front of anyone else and never will.
“William turned a corner and there was a car—your car—coming at us on the wrong side of the road. William swerved to avoid it, but it was too late. The doctors told me he died from the impact.”
“Do you remember anything after that?” Carter asked.
“Why? Why do you need all the goddamn details? You were there as well, or had you forgotten about killing my fucking brother?” My voice had gotten louder again, but the tables next to us were now vacant, possibly because no one wanted to be near us right now.
“Please, Emily,” Carter said, his voice calm and sincere. “Just humor me. Please.”
“Fine. I have flashes of memory, but nothing too substantial. I do remember screaming a lot and looking over at my brother. I can still picture him if I close my eyes. He looked good, actually. I mean, you would assume someone who dies in a car crash would look a bloody mess, but he looked peaceful. That’s how I like to remember him, anyway.”
“Were you in a lot of pain?” Carter asked. “With the leg?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even remember feeling it, but I lost consciousness quite quickly. After those flashes the next thing I remember is waking up in hospital. The doctors didn’t even tell me about my leg for three days.”
Carter looked disappointed, as if my recollection of events was not what he had wanted to hear from me.
“Happy now?” I asked in a somewhat petulant and childish tone which I immediately regretted.
“No, Emily, of course not. Listen, I really need to tell you something about that night, but I don’t want to do it here. Will you come to my place for dinner?” I opened my mouth to answer, but he held up a hand to stop me before I could say anything. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I must tell you my side of the events from that night. Please, Emily.”
As I looked into his eyes, I knew that if I answered right now I would say “yes.” I couldn’t say “no” to him.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, standing up and walking away. I needed time to think, and I couldn’t do that while he was sat opposite me. I didn’t want to spend any more time talking about the night my brother died, but I felt like he had earned the chance to tell his side of the story.
The story that ended with my brother’s death.
Chapter Three
“Boy, am I glad to see you,” John said as I walked through the door to my apartment. He almost lived with me these days, although he was actively looking for a new place to stay. He’d lived the life of a bachelor before he had settled down with Tom and I knew I was cramping his style a bit right now.
“Oh, that can’t be good,” I said. “These days you are only pleased to see me when you need my help with something.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well, I do need your help with something. Our illustrious investor would like to talk to you about the new accountant we are going to hire.”
“Why does she want to speak to me?” I asked. “I know less than you do about that kind of thing.”
“That’s what I thought, but because you are technically the ‘manager’ of the LLC, you need to make these decisions. I guess we may have forgotten about a few of the legal formalities, but she is quite hot on them.”
I’d completely forgotten all about my status as manager. I vaguely remembered Scott explaining what it meant, but John and I hadn’t put a lot of thought into the details. This new investor was a bit more on-the-ball, but that was probably a good thing. As the saying goes—”short term pain for long term gain.”
I pulled up the number for Marissa and gave her a call. It was already past business hours, so I expected to get her voicemail, but she picked up on the second ring.
“Hi, Emily,” Marissa said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I replied. John was doing some weird mime with a tissue in front of me. “Sorry I didn’t get in touch sooner. I had an awful cold and couldn’t focus on work.” John gave me the thumbs up.
“Yes, John told me you weren’t well. Glad you’re better now. I just wanted to chat about this new accountant. As the manager, you have to be the one to make decisions like this, although it is of course preferable if we are all in agreement.”
“Sure,” I replied. “Do you have someone in mind? I wouldn’t know where to start looking.”
“My client has recommended a good candidate,” Marissa said.
Her client. I kept having to remind myself that Marissa was not the investor; she was merely the lawyer for the investment company.
“What’s he like?” I asked.
“She’s called Jane and has worked with me on other clients before. She doesn’t have any particular experience with medical technology companies like yours, but she does specialize in start-up companies. As such, she is clued in to all the issues you will likely face. Plus she is quite cheap.”
“In that case, she sounds perfect,” I said. “Tell her to send me an email and I’ll get her set up with our accounts. Is she okay with working remotely? We don’t exactly have any offices yet, unless you count SF Station.”
Marissa gave a polite laugh. “Don’t worry, she’s used to that. Anyway, let me know if I can help with anything else.”
“Thanks.”
“Well, that was easy,” John said once Marissa was off the phone. “This investor has been incredibly useful.”
“I know. That was rather easy.” Was it a little too easy? I knew a few other people with start-up companies and they made everything sound like such a chore. All I had to do was phone our investor—or rather, our investor’s lawyer—and everything would get sorted out.
“What are you thinking?” John asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about what I’m going to work on today.”
“I could do with you looking at the data from our beta user with the artificial foot. I’ve collated the information as best I can, but I need your scientific expertise to tell me what the data is saying.”
