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anything more than a shadow, maybe a lamppost. I didn’t know it was a person until I heard the thud. Felt the thud.” He felt it again, and again, and again. He doubted he would live long enough to forget it. It raised the hair on the back of his neck. “How much longer till we’re there?”
    â€œNot long. So you don’t have any idea who was driving the truck?”
    Tom expelled a frustrated breath. “If I knew, don’t you think I’d say?”
    â€œBeats me. I don’t know you much.”
    â€œTrust me. I’d say.”
    â€œYeah? Funny that you would. Most guys would be clamming up around now.”
    â€œOnly if they have something to hide. I don’t. That guy hit me. You studied the scene. You know that. There wasn’t a hell of a lot I could have done differently.”
    â€œStill, you’re city. I’d have thought you’d be yelling and screaming for a lawyer.”
    â€œI am a lawyer.” He hadn’t intended to say it, but there it was.
    Bonner sent him a guarded look. “I thought you said you were a writer.”
    â€œI am. I write about law.”
    â€œAh, jeez.” His head went back with the oath. “Another one lookin’ to be the next Grisham.”
    â€œActually,” Tom said, because he figured Bonner would run a check on him and find out anyway, and then, of course, there was his damnable pride, which survived despite months of trying to kill it, “I was writing before Grisham ever did.”
    â€œThat’s what they all say.”
    â€œI was published before Grisham ever was.”
    The chief paused. “That so?” Cautious interest. “Have I read anything of yours?”
    â€œWhile the Jury Was Out.” One look at the chief and he had his answer. “Lucky I have a common name, huh? I’ve been here seven months, and no one’s figured it out. Christ, they will now,” he muttered, refocusing on the road. “How much longer?”
    â€œNot much. Why the secret?”
    â€œIt’s been a rough few years. I needed downtime. I needed to be someplace where people didn’t know who I was.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    Taking aim at that damnable pride, he said, “I ran into trouble.”
    â€œLegal trouble?”
    â€œEgo trouble.”
    He stared out the window at the outskirts of Ashmont. Small frame houses came closer together now, lights on here and there. The Blazer fell in behind a plow that was spewing sand and slowed to give it space.
    Tom felt a surge of impatience. “Pass him.”
    â€œNot me. I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’d think you would, too. You don’t need two accidents in one night. So. You got famous and bought into the hype.”
    Tom lifted the gauze from his cheek, glanced at it, put it back. “Something like that.”
    â€œWeren’t there movies, too?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAre you loaded?”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œPoor?”
    â€œNo.” Tom looked at Bonner. “If she doesn’t have insurance, I’ll cover her bills.”
    â€œThat’s nice and generous, thank you, but Bree won’t have any part of it. She’s an independent sort. Besides, don’t feel guilty. If you hadn’t been where you were, that truck would’ve hit her directly, and it was bigger than you.”
    â€œSo if she dies, she’ll be less dead?” Tom asked. “Besides, it isn’t guilt.”
    â€œThen what?”
    Redemption was the word that came to mind, and it didn’t sound right. But he did know, for all he was worth, that this time he couldn’t turn his back.
    Â 
    The Ashmont Medical Center was small and relatively new, a two-story brick building at the end of a long drive curving back behind the old stone town hall. Tom remembered the parking lot as being neatly landscaped, but the peaceful feeling he remembered, from things green and