Читать книгу Mrs. Morris and the Ghost of Christmas Past - Traci Wilton - Страница 2

HOLIDAY HOMICIDE

Officer Horitz turned the monitor for his computer toward her. “We have a 3D program that allows us to discover how fast the vehicle was going that hit David, in relation to things around him.”

“Oh?” Charlene thought back to exactly what she’d seen. David’s head had been turned toward the flashing red dentist Santa holding a giant toothbrush.

“There were no skid marks on the street,” he told her, “which means that the driver didn’t stop. Duval and Crown Point Road have speed limits of forty miles an hour. According to this”—he gestured to the diagram—“David was hit at thirty to thirty-five miles per hour.”

“That doesn’t seem very fast,” Charlene said, unable to take her eyes away from the red X on the monitor.

“It was bad luck for David,” Officer Horitz agreed. “The vehicle hit him at an awkward angle and broke his neck.” The policeman sighed and got to his feet. “Thanks for coming in.”

And just like that, Charlene was escorted out of the station.

Bad luck? Someone on the phone or texting. Even changing a radio station—the driver would have heard or felt something, and made a decision not to stop.

At thirty miles an hour, whoever had run over David had to have known what they were doing as they left him on the street to die. . . .