CHAPTER FIVE
I didn’t sleep that night.
By morning, I had convinced myself the message was a cruel joke.
Then Detective Harris walked into my hospital room.
He was a tall man in his fifties with tired eyes and a folder under his arm.
“Grace Morgan?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you some questions about the accident.”
I sat up carefully.
“Wasn’t it an accident?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“What makes you ask that?”
I looked at him.
“Because someone just told me it wasn’t.”
His expression changed.
“Someone contacted you?”
I showed him the message.
He read it twice.
“Did you know anyone who might have witnessed something?”
“No.”
He opened his folder.
“We found something unusual.”
“What?”
“Your father’s vehicle had a mechanical problem.”
“I smelled something before the crash.”
“We found traces of a substance in the fuel system.”
My heart started pounding.
“What substance?”
“Sugar.”
I stared at him.
“Sugar?”
“Yes.”
“Someone put sugar in the fuel?”
“It appears so.”
“Would that cause the accident?”
“Eventually, it can damage the fuel system enough to make the engine fail.”
I thought about Dad’s refusal to stop when I’d complained about the smell.
Detective Harris continued.
“We also found something else.”
He placed a photograph on the bed.
It showed the underside of the car.
“There were fresh scratches around the fuel cap.”
“Someone opened it.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Then he looked directly at me.
“But there’s something you should know.”
“What?”
“Your father told us the car had been parked outside your aunt’s house for several hours before he picked you up.”
My blood ran cold.
Because that wasn’t true.
I remembered Dad arriving.
He had called us from the car.
He had told us he was already outside.
And I’d noticed something strange.
His hands had smelled like gasoline.
