Alex slammed shut her apartment door. She still fumed over the conversation with Hudson. After emptying her coat’s pockets of the glass pieces she picked up along the road, she hung it up and paced.

She dialed Andrew’s number, hoping the arraignment was over and he was on his way home. She sat at the table and stared at the wreckage while she waited for him to answer. Just by looking at the two separate piles, it was easy to tell the headlight covers belonged to different vehicles.

One had flawless plastic, like brand-new while the other was weathered, definitely not new.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Andrew whispered. He sounded tired.

“Why are you whispering?” she asked.

“We’re outside the courtroom, but it could be hours yet. Depending on how the cases before us go.”

“Is your lawyer feeling good about it?”

After a pause, he said, “They’ve added a few more charges—”

Fear stuck in her throat. “Like what?”

“On top of second degree murder, there’s failure to stop and render aid, reckless driving, a hit and run charge, leaving the scene of an accident—”

“Okay, enough.” She could take any more of this BS. She was about to throw up the non-existent food remaining in her stomach. But he was innocent, so she had nothing to worry about.

“I don’t want to scare you, babe, but you need to be ready,” he continued.

“For what?” her voice squeaked. Her heart raced, losing its steady pace. Could people in their twenties die from heart attacks?

“It’s possible I won’t be coming home after this.”

She sprang from her chair. “You didn’t do anything!” Her head started to spin. She put a hand against the wall to keep from falling.

“I know. It’s okay. Turner is doing all he can.”

“How long can they keep you?” Inhaling slow, deep breaths, she returned to her chair before her legs gave out.

“Could be until the trial.” That told her nothing.

“How long, Andrew?” It was becoming too hard for her to speak. Andrew going to jail was a joke. He was one of the most upstanding people she’d ever met.

“Months,” he replied.

“No.” She slammed her hand on the table, making the mangled glass pieces jump and move. “I won’t accept that.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I won’t.”

“It’ll be okay, baby. I promise. You can see me every day, Turner says.”

Alex wiped at her wet eyes. Trying to be positive, she said, “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about renting a car for you then.”

Andrew laughed lightly. “Nah, it’s time to buy something new. But it would be fun to rent a high-end sports car to show you off around town, racing between streetlights.”

She pictured him in a hotrod. “I’d never recognize you in one of those. I’ve only ever seen you in the SUV.”

“I wouldn’t recognize myself either. I’m getting too old for that kind of thing. I’m thinking more along the lines of a family car. What do you think?”

“But, Andrew, you don’t have a family,” she said.

“Maybe not yet. But I’m hoping soon.”

Alex stopped breathing. She finally caught on to what he was saying. Tears streamed faster. “Andrew, are you asking—”

“Let’s see how this goes today, sweetheart. Maybe we’ll go shopping this week.”

For a ring! she thought but didn’t say. She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming hallelujah to the world.

“Listen, baby, I should get back with Turner. There are two more cases before ours. They could go quickly, or we may be postponed until tomorrow if it gets too late.”

“Will you come home tonight, then?”

“I’m not sure. But be ready for my call, okay?” he said.

“I’ll pick you up immediately, no matter what time. I love you, Andrew.”

“I love you. We’ll talk later.”

Alex laid the phone on the table and buried her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t right. An innocent man shouldn’t have to spend time in jail. She smashed her hand down on the table again, making everything on it shift.

Her eyes skimmed the fragments and she noted how some of the older pieces looked to fit together. Scooting around shards, she turned them around, searching for a matching break line.

When they didn’t line up, she realized she wasn’t working with a flat puzzle, but a 3D-shaped object. She jumped up and searched the kitchen for clear tape, emptying the junk drawer on the counter. Finding a half-used dispenser, she hurried back.

Thinking about a bubble, Alex taped the larger pieces together on both sets. Even though holes remained throughout, a majority of the casing was there on the worn version. The new-looking pieces were too broken up to get an image, but the chunks, especially the one with the blue streak, didn’t match the curve of the other at all.

Not only were the vehicles different age-wise, but style-wise. So, which set belonged to the Suburban and what did the other set belong to?

Alex sat back and rubbed her eyes. They were feeling dry from the tears recently shed. The image of Andrew in a cherry-red Corvette popped into her mind. She laughed at the silliness. He was such a big guy, and in a small two-seater, the car would look like it was ready to pop seams.

He was right when he said nobody would recognize him. But that was the purpose of renting sometimes. When you wanted to step out of your life and try something new for a short time. Or to hide if you didn’t want others to see you.

A thought came into her mind. Could it be that simple? She picked up her phone and googled car rentals close to Tony’s Bar and Grill. Nina said that Ted probably frequented the bar since his and Jen’s house was down the street. The address for the place next to the stoplight popped up. She tapped the green phone icon.

“Rennie’s Rental. We guarantee you the ride of your life. This is Natalie. How can I help you rent a car today?”

Quite a mouthful, Alex thought. “Uh, hi. I was wondering if you had any Suburbans come back damaged lately?”

“We don’t rent Suburbans, ma’am. Our biggest is a Tahoe,” the lady said.

A Tahoe and Suburban looked a lot alike, especially at night when driving fast. Maybe the casing belonged to a Tahoe. “Okay, has a damaged Tahoe been turned in?”

“May I ask why you are inquiring?” Natalie asked. “We don’t usually give out that kind of information.”

Well, shit. Alex wanted to kick herself for not preparing better. What would be the right answer? If she said she was in a wreck involving a black Tahoe, they’d probably think she wanted to file a lawsuit against them. If she said she was just curious, the woman would hang up on her as a prank call.

Alex sighed. “To make a long story short, I think my husband Ted Ortiz wrecked his rental and I need to know if he purchased the insurance with your company or if we need to call our provider. Is there any way you can just tell me if he got the insurance with the car?”

“Just a moment, ma’am.” Alex heard typing coming through the line. “Ma’am, what is your husband’s name again?”

“Ted Ortiz. He returned it Sunday,” Alex guessed. Another pause and more typing.

“Yes, ma’am, he did purchase the insurance. You have nothing to worry about,” Natalie replied.

“Thank you so much.” Alex hung up knowing she had to be right about this. Ted ran Jen off the road.

Her next call was to Detective Hudson.

When he answered, she spoke without hardly taking a breath. “Detective, Ted killed Jen, I know he did, he rented a Tahoe over the weekend, and it had front end damage—”

“Whoa, hold up there,” Hudson replied. “Who is this?”

Alex needed to get ahold of herself. “This is Alexandra Berte with Andrew Carter’s case.”

“Ah, Miss Berte,” he said. “What are you saying?”

“Ted Ortiz ran his wife off the road, killing her.”

The detective chuckled. “Miss Berte, I know you want your boyfriend to be innocent—”

“He is innocent, and I have proof,” she hollered.

“What proof?” Now she had his attention.

“I’ve confirmed that Ted Ortiz returned a Tahoe rental on Sunday with damage to the front,” she started. When Hudson didn’t reply, she went on about the headlight casings she pieced together and how those would prove which vehicle was at each incident.

“Miss Berte, let me remind this is an ongoing police investigation. I will check out your theories tomorrow. Your interference can have a negative impact on Mr. Carter’s outcome.”

“It can’t wait. At least I’m doing something to keep him out of jail,” she said.

“Miss Berte,” Hudson said, his voice getting louder, “the only thing that would keep Carter out of jail would be a confession by someone else.”

Fuck.

“Miss Berte, just so you know, I’ve made a special inquiry on Mr. Ortiz. When I get the report back, I will have another conversation with him. That’s all I can do without solid evidence.”

Alex knew he spoke the truth and needed to back off. “Thank you, Detective Hudson. I appreciate all you’ve done. Really. I’m just under some stress.”

“Have a good afternoon, Miss Berte.”

Alex put her phone on the table next to the taped headlight fragments. She was at a loss of what to do. But she had to do something. Andrew would be going to jail for months without any evidence to the contrary.

Well, if evidence was what the detective wanted, then evidence she’d get.