PART 2 — THE BLOOD ON MY BROTHER’S SHIRT WASN’T WINE… AND BY SUNRISE, TWO DEPUTIES WERE ASKING WHY MY CAR HAD BEEN AT THE SCENE

The sheriff’s cruisers arrived just after sunrise.

I was standing in the kitchen when I heard the tires crunch over the gravel driveway.

Two deputies stepped onto the porch.

One of them looked toward my Explorer.

The passenger-side front bumper was crushed.

The headlight was shattered.

And there was something dark smeared across the hood.

My stomach dropped.

The older deputy knocked.

“Ms. Morgan?”

“Yes?”

“Are you Claire Morgan?”

“Yes.”

His eyes moved past me into the house.

“Is that your vehicle?”

I nodded.

“Did you drive it last night?”

“No.”

He paused.

“Are you sure?”

“I never left the house.”

Behind me, I heard footsteps.

Tyler.

He appeared at the end of the hallway wearing a different shirt.

The pale blue one from last night was gone.

His hair was wet, as if he had just showered.

He looked at the deputies.

Then at me.

For half a second, something passed between us.

Fear.

Not mine.

His.

The older deputy opened his notebook.

“We received a report concerning a hit-and-run shortly after 1:20 this morning.”

My chest tightened.

“What happened?”

“A pedestrian was struck near Dayton-Yellow Springs Road.”

I looked at my Explorer.

“Is the person okay?”

The deputy’s expression changed.

“I’m afraid not.”

Silence filled the kitchen.

My mother appeared behind Tyler.

She looked at him.

Then at me.

Her face was almost colorless.

The deputy continued.

“A witness gave us a partial description of the vehicle. Dark blue SUV. Front passenger damage.”

I stared at Tyler.

He wouldn’t look at me.

The pieces fell into place so quickly that I almost felt dizzy.

The spare key.

The garage door.

The blood on his sleeve.

The damaged bumper.

The shower.

And now the deputies standing inside my parents’ home.

“Can I see the keys?” the younger deputy asked.

I reached into my overnight bag.

The keys were still there.

I held them up.

His eyebrows tightened.

“Those are the keys to the vehicle?”

“Yes.”

“Where were they last night?”

“I took them from my brother.”

Tyler suddenly spoke.

“She gave them to me.”

I turned.

“No, I didn’t.”

His voice remained strangely calm.

“She changed her mind.”

The older deputy looked between us.

“Then who was driving?”

Tyler hesitated.

Only for a second.

But it was enough.

“She was.”

My blood went cold.

“What?”

Tyler finally looked directly at me.

“You left around one.”

“That’s a lie.”

My mother lowered her eyes.

My father came down the stairs.

He stopped when he saw the deputies.

“What’s going on?”

The older deputy explained.

Dad listened.

Then he looked at me.

Not Tyler.

Me.

And said the words that would haunt me for years.

“She was upset last night.”

I stared at him.

“Dad?”

He swallowed.

“I told her to calm down before she drove.”

“You knew I never left.”

He said nothing.

The deputy closed his notebook.

“Ms. Morgan, we need you to come with us and answer some questions.”

I looked at Tyler.

He had already stepped behind Mom.

The same brother who had begged me not to take his keys.

The same brother whose sleeve had been stained with blood.

The same brother whose car accident was now somehow becoming my crime.

I could have screamed.

Instead, I asked one question.

“Did anyone check the garage camera?”

Both deputies looked at each other.

Tyler’s face changed.

And suddenly I understood why he had been so confident.

He hadn’t just taken my car.

He had spent the entire night making sure the evidence would point to me.