Road Test David Wickenhauser (the top 100 crime novels of all time .TXT) 📖

fire destroyed so much of the car and the occupants that the authorities haven’t been able to identify the victims. As of this morning’s news they still don’t know who died.”

“Ah.”

“You get it? With no identifiable victims we have nobody to sue on behalf of.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“Obviously.”

“What can we do?”

“You’ve got to get with the husband. Have him call the highway patrol to tell them his wife and their children left the house yesterday evening to go shopping and they never returned. He’s got to do some acting. He’s got to be distraught and fearful it might have been them in that horrible crash last night,” the attorney said. “Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“They’ll need him to go to the impound yard to identify his wife’s car. We need to get this taken care of before we can begin the rest of the process. Get on it, and don’t screw it up.”

Hugh came out of the bathroom, and saw Jenny sitting on their bed watching the morning’s coverage of the crash. Not much was happening this morning, so it was heavy on replaying footage from last night’s coverage.

An overhead of the accident scene clearly showed Hugh’s truck, and even Hugh himself standing near it talking to the trooper. TV and cable news were increasingly using aerial drones for this kind of reporting, which was considerably cheaper than using helicopters.

Prominent in the replays from last night were videos of the car still smoldering and smoking after the flames had been extinguished by firefighting personnel. It was only in the early hours of the morning that a flatbed tow truck had arrived to drag the car onto its deck for its ride to a police impound yard for forensic examination.

Authorities opened up the Interstate in stages, eager to do so, as commuter traffic usually began to build in Phoenix as early as 4 a.m., and all the westbound lanes had been shut down for most of the night. All lanes were opened by the time the morning news had begun its coverage.

Several major accidents occur in this city of around eight million people every day. But what has kept this particular accident in the news cycle for so long was that the accident’s fatal victim or victims remained unidentified.

Reporters this morning were appealing to anyone who might know who the victims could be to contact the authorities. Preliminary evidence that there might have been two children’s car seats in the back of the demolished vehicle drew an emotional response from the reporter.

Jenny was considerably more somber now, in sharp contrast to her ebullience earlier in the morning.

Hugh sat next to her on the bed, and put his arms around her.

“That was so awful, Hugh.”

“I know, sweetheart, but there was nothing we could have done.”

As they continued to watch the news, they were surprised to see Hugh’s image appear on screen. It was a photo taken by the Idaho State Police public affairs trooper during the commendation ceremony at Hugh’s parents’ ranch.

The chyron crawling from right to left underneath his photo identified the truck driver involved in the crash as Hugh Mann, the “hero trucker” who was recently involved in the hijackings, and in saving the life of the Idaho state trooper.

“That’s all we need,” Hugh said.

The reporter was stating that, according to unofficial information received from an unnamed source, but based on credible evidence, it was expected the truck driver would not be held responsible for the crash.

“Well, at least there’s that.”

Both of them were lost in thought, so they were startled by a knock on their door. It took Hugh a few seconds to respond.

“Breakfast?’

“Yeah, I completely forgot about that. Can we turn the TV off while we eat?”

“Please. Go ahead,” Hugh replied. “I’ll get the meal.”

The room service waiter wheeled in breakfast on a large rolling cart, uncovered each item from its heated cover, and set it all on the dining room table for them.

“Please leave everything here when you finish. Housekeeping will clean up,” the waiter said.

Hugh tipped him, and he wheeled the cart back through the door and out of the room.

“Everything still looks hot,” Jenny said. “And looks delicious.”

When they had started digging into the meal, Hugh said, “I’ve got to take care of business with the truck and insurance. Which means I’m going to be gone for a little while today. I think you should take advantage of some of the amenities they have here. You know they’ve got a large pool. And a spa. You should go pamper yourself.”

“Anything I want?”

“You shouldn’t even have to ask. Treat yourself to anything you want.”

“I don’t have a swim suit.”

“Don’t even ask. Anything you want. Buy one. Or two.”

“OK, I get it,” Jenny said, with a grin on her face.

“Make sure your cell phone is charged, and the ringer is on in case I need to get in touch with you.”

Joe was getting back to sleep when his phone rang again.

“Damn, what the fuck now?” he yelled into the phone. It was the attorney again.

“Watch yourself, pal. I’m not liking your insolence,” the attorney said.

“Sorry. What can I do for you?” Joe said. On second thought, he had hoped it hadn’t come out as snide as he had meant it. The attorney was a powerful man, and not someone who Joe wished to be on the wrong side of. Apparently, nerves were being stretched for both of them.

“Did you see the morning news?” the attorney asked.

“No, what’s going on?”

“It’s crazy. It’s turned out you picked the one trucker who happens to be the most famous trucker in the country right now.”

“Because of this crash?”

“No, you idiot. Because he’s the trucker who killed all those guys in the hijack ring,