“That’s a good mother.”
The girl smiled.
“I’m Kayla.”
“Avery.”
“I know.”
Avery’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
Kayla’s eyes widened.
“You’re Avery Monroe.”
Vanessa looked up sharply.
Avery closed eyes.
So much for anonymity.
Kayla continued excitedly:
“My dad works at Grayson Medical.”
“You did their backup-grid project.”
Avery smiled tiredly.
“Yes.”
“You’re CEO.”
Vanessa’s face transformed.
Not guilt.
Recognition of consequence.
Avery saw it immediately and hated it.
There.
That shift.
The same one she had seen too many times.
Now Vanessa looked at the graphite car differently.
At Avery’s clothes.
At the officer.
At the gathering phones.
Her voice softened.
“Ms. Monroe.”
Avery’s expression hardened.
“No.”
Vanessa blinked.
“No what?”
“Do not change your tone because you know my job.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did.”
Avery pointed toward the pump.
“Five minutes ago, I was apparently somebody who needed to prove the car wasn’t stolen.”
“I never said stolen.”
“You wanted police to check where it came from.”
“I was upset.”
“You were comfortable accusing me before you knew anything about me.”
Vanessa looked toward Price’s cruiser.
Then back.
“I made a mistake.”
Avery glanced toward the security camera.
“Yes.”
“But the mistake was already a mistake before you learned my title.”
Vanessa’s mouth tightened.
Avery stepped back.
“I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”
Officer Price returned.
He had been on the phone.
His expression was different.
Not because Avery was CEO.
Something else.
“Ms. Carlisle.”
Vanessa looked.
“Yes?”
“Have you had other collision claims in the last two years?”
Her face emptied.
Avery looked at him.
Vanessa said:
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Price held her license.
“Dispatch pulled a recent report involving another parking-lot collision.”
“That’s private.”
“It’s a police report.”
“So?”
“So the circumstances are similar.”
Vanessa swallowed.
Avery felt a new thread tighten.
Price said:
“I need you to step over here.”
Vanessa did not move.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
“No.”
Her head snapped up.
Price’s voice stayed calm.
“You are being detained while we complete investigation.”
“For an accident?”
“For the totality of circumstances.”
Vanessa looked toward Avery with hatred.
“This is because of her.”
Avery shook her head.
“No.”
“It’s because of the camera.”
The camera.
That became the center of everything.
Not Avery’s title.
Not the car.
Not the clothes.
A lens mounted beneath a gas-station canopy had preserved ninety seconds Vanessa assumed belonged only to her.
Three hours later, Avery sat at her mother’s kitchen table with no appetite.
Rochelle Monroe pushed a bowl of gumbo toward her.
“Eat.”