The Fifth Sense (Order of Magic #4) - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,1
Sanchez asked.
“I don’t think I was in the trunk.” Sue took a deeper breath, fighting the memory of tight spaces and the feel of a crowbar poking into her ribs as tires sped over asphalt. Lying came easier than it should have.
In. Out.
“We believe that when the semi clipped the car and sent it into a tailspin down the ravine, you were thrown from the back of the vehicle,” Sanchez continued.
“That doesn’t sound right,” Sue lied out of habit. Her nose burned with the threat of tears. “The doctor said I injured my head in the accident.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.” Price crossed his arms over his chest. “The truck driver said your car drifted into his lane. Skid marks on the road support that. Fingerprints on the steering wheel tell us Hank was driving at the time.”
“Then that is probably what happened.” Sue shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s not surprising.” Sanchez held up her phone to show a picture of a wrecked silver sedan at the bottom of a ravine. The vehicle looked totaled. How Sue survived was anyone’s guess. The top had been caved in and the sides were smashed liked crumbled tinfoil. “We found evidence that you were in the trunk when this happened.”
“Evidence?” Sue glanced at them before looking at her hands on the thin hospital blanket. Medical tape held the IV against her skin, hiding where it entered her. She followed the tube with her eyes. She willed painkiller oblivion to flow into her body to turn off her mind, but the saline bag only continued to drip in a steady rhythm. A chill worked up her spine, causing her to shiver.
“Blood and hair on the latch,” Sanchez continued. “The theory is you hit your head when you flew out.”
“That’s one theory,” Price corrected, indicating he had a different mindset.
Sue touched her head, feeling a bandage wrapped around it like a convalescent’s crown.
“Anything you can remember could help us understand what happened tonight,” Sanchez insisted.
“It sounds like you already know what happened. We had an accident. I broke my ribs.” Sue cradled her stomach. “The painkillers they gave me… I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What is the last thing you remember?” Sanchez asked.
“Having dinner with Hank,” Sue said. Tears slid from her eyes as she closed them. “He…”
What could she say? The words struggled to push past her tightening throat.
“He didn’t make it.” She repeated the doctor’s phrasing.
Dead. Hank died.
“I think we have all we need for now,” Price said.
Sanchez clearly disagreed. She approached the bed. “Mrs. Jewel.” The detective took a deep breath and gave her a serious stare. “Sue, if your husband did something to you, you need to tell us. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“My husband is dead.” Her voice was weak. More tears streamed down her face. The words felt foreign and thick on her tongue. “He died.”
The stuttered breath felt like a punch in the side. She doubled over and curled her body into a ball.
“Please leave,” Sue begged. “It was an accident. A horrible accident. I don’t know what you think you found in the trunk, but it’s not from tonight.”
“My card,” Sanchez said. “If you think of anything.”
Sue listened to them leave. She reached for a call button and hit it several times. When a nurse entered, she muttered, “Something for the pain. Please. Something for the pain.”
She didn’t want to feel anymore.
In. Out. In. Out.
Blessed numbness came through her IV, and she let it take her into oblivion.
Chapter Two
Three months later…
It started with the smell of Hank’s cologne, a mix of gun oil and cedar, lingering in the bedroom. Sue couldn’t shake the feeling of him standing behind her, watching, judging. In those moments, she forgot he was dead.
She donated his clothing and toiletries to charity, hoping that would erase the scent. Then she caught whiffs of it in the middle of the night, waking her from a troubled sleep. She thought it was the pillows, a haunting scent embedded in the polyester filling, so she threw out the pillows, bought new ones, and then shampooed the mattress with the carpet cleaner.
The smell returned.
It showed up in the kitchen and living room, so she cleaned the house ceiling to floor. Nothing helped. The cologne followed her like a cloud when she walked to the grocery store. Flowers emitted a hint of bourbon with their fragrant petals to cause a wave of sickening sweet nausea that forced her to hold her breath whenever