I slowed down and turned on my headlights. Dusk had begun to fall. “It doesn’t look like anyone is there.”
Becky pressed her nose against her window. “We have to stop.”
I bit my bottom lip.
She turned to look at me. “We have to see if they’re okay.”
I nodded. “I’ll call the police and report the accident. Can you hand me my cell phone from my purse?”
Becky gave me the phone. No service. I groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“No reception here.”
Becky put her hand on the door. “Chloe, we have to stop. What if they’re hurt?”
“Okay.” I stopped the Prizm next to the truck. “Do you think they are still in there?”
Becky unlatched the passenger side door, her eyes wide. Something moved on the other side of the overturned green pickup.
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get out.”
Curt and Brock climbed out of the ditch and stumbled across my headlights, covered head to toe in mud. It was like watching a clip from a swamp monster movie. Timothy and I had probably looked much the same.
I shifted the car into drive. “See, they’re fine. Let’s go.”
Becky put her hand on the dashboard. “Ask them if they’re hurt.”
My brow shot up. “Are you serious?”
“Please.”
“Fine.” I opened the window halfway. “Are you okay?”
Curt ambled over and leaned against my car. “Brock! Look who’s here. Our Red!” He twisted a glance in my direction. “Red, I didn’t know you cared.”
Brock wiped mud from his face with a filthy bandana.
“See.” I spoke through gritted teeth. “They’re both fine. I’ll call the police when we get back into town.”
Curt stood a foot from my car, his arms outstretched. “Red, are you here to rescue us?”
Brock folded his arms in front of his barrel chest and smirked at his scrawny friend. “Maybe you’re right, Curt. Maybe she likes you more than the Amish dude.”
Curt smiled, his teeth mottled. “I always knew Red wanted a real man.”
I started manually rolling up the window, but Curt reached through it. I jerked away from him, and he knocked the visor down. “Get out!” I screamed. He pulled his hand away and I finished rolling up the window.
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and swerved around the truck. In my rearview mirror, I could see Curt and Brock doubled over in laughter.
When we were close enough to town to get a cell phone signal, I called the chief. She picked up on the first ring. “What do you have, Chloe? I’m in the middle of storm cleanup right now.” Chief Rose’s voice sounded sharp. “This better be good.”
I told her about Brock and Curt’s accident.
She groaned into the phone. “I’ll send a tow truck out there to pick them up. Not that they deserve it. Did they say anything to you?”
“Nothing important.” Appleseed Creek’s square came into view.
“Hmm.” She murmured as if she didn’t believe me. “All right. We’ll talk about this later.” Then she hung up.
In our driveway, I reached up to the visor for Grayson Mathews’s business card. It wasn’t there. A streak of dirt marred the cloth roof of the Prizm.
Becky had stepped out of the car. “What are you looking for?”
“Mathews’s business card. I put it in the visor.”
She pressed her lips into a line. “It must have gotten lost when Curt reached into the car.
I shrugged. “I don’t need it. I know how to find Mathews.”