Лиза Смит - The Return - Nightfall

Meredith, never one to soft-pedal anything, simply nodded. But she put a hand briefly on his shoulder as they entered the dim, high-ceilinged bedroom.

Shortly after, Elena and Bonnie came up, and Matt could tell at once by their faces that the worst-case scenario wasn’t true. Elena saw his expression and immediately went to him and hugged him. Bonnie followed, more shyly.

“Feel okay?” Elena said, and Matt nodded.

“I feel fine,” he said. Like wrestling alligators, he thought. Nothing was nicer than hugging soft, soft girls.

“Well, the consensus is that you don’t have anything inside you that doesn’t belong there. Your aura seems clear and strong now that you’re not in pain.”

“Thank God,” Matt said, and he meant it.

It was at that moment that his mobile phone rang. He frowned, puzzled at the number displayed, but he answered it.

“Matthew Honeycutt?”

“Yes.”

“Hold, please.”

A new voice came on: “Mr. Honeycutt?”

“Uh, yeah, but—”

“This is Rich Mossberg of the Fell’s Church Sheriff’s Department. You called this morning to report a fallen tree midway down Old Wood Road?”

“Yes, I—”

“Mr. Honeycutt, we don’t like prank calls of this sort. We frown upon them, in fact. It takes up the valuable time of our officers, and besides, it happens to be a crime to make a false report to the police. If I wanted to, Mr. Honeycutt, I could charge you with this crime and make you answer to a judge. I don’t see just what you find so amusing about it.”

“I wasn’t — I don’t find anything amusing about it! Look, last night—” Matt’s voice trailed off. What was he going to say?Last night I was waylaid by a tree and a monster bug? A small voice inside him added that the Fell’s Church Sheriff’s officers seemed to spend most of their valuable time hanging around the Dunkin’ Donuts in the city square, but the next words he heard shut it up.

“In fact, Mr. Honeycutt, under the authority of Virginia State Code, Section 18.2-461, making a false police report is punishable as a Class 1 misdemeanor. You could be looking at a year in jail or a twenty-five-thousand-dollar fine. Do you find that amusing, Mr. Honeycutt?”

“Look, I—”

“Do you, in fact,have twenty-five thousand dollars, Mr. Honeycutt?”

“No, I–I—” Matt waited to be cut off and then he realized that he wasn’t going to be. He was sailing off the edge of the map into some unknown region. What to say?The malach took the tree away — or maybe it moved by itself? Ludicrous. Finally, in a creaky voice he managed, “I’m sorry they didn’t find the tree. Maybe…somehow it got moved.”

“Maybe somehow it got moved,” the sheriff repeated expressionlessly. “In fact maybe somehow it moved itself the way that all those stop signs and yield signs keep moving themselves away from intersections. Does that ring a bell, Mr. Honeycutt?”

“No!” Matt felt himself flush deeply. “I would never move any kind of street sign.” By now the girls were clustered around him, as if they could somehow help by appearing as a group. Bonnie was gesturing vigorously, and her indignant expression made it clear that she wanted to tell the sheriff off personally.

“In fact, Mr. Honeycutt,” Sheriff Mossberg cut in, “we called your home number first, since that’s the phone you used to place the report. And your mother said that she hadn’t seen you at all last night.”

Matt ignored the little voice that wanted to snap,Is that a crime? “That was because I got held up—”

“By a self-propelled tree, Mr. Honeycutt? In fact we had already had another call about your house last night. A member of Neighborhood Watch reported a suspicious car roughly in front of your house. According to your mother, you recently totaled your own car, isn’t that right, Mr. Honeycutt?”

Matt could see where this was going and he didn’t like it. “Yes,” he heard himself say, while his mind worked desperately for a plausible explanation. “I was trying to avoid running over a fox. And—”

“Yet there was a report of a brand new Jaguar lingering in front of your house, just far enough away from the streetlight to be — inconspicuous. A car so new that it had no license plates. Was that, in fact,your car, Mr. Honeycutt?”

“Mr. Honeycutt’s my father!” Matt said desperately. “I’m Matt. And it was my friend’s car—”

“And your friend’s name is…?”

Matt stared at Elena. She was making wait gestures, obviously trying to think. To say Elena Gilbert would be suicidal. The police, of all people, knew that Elena Gilbert was dead. Now Elena was pointing around the room and mouthing words at him.

Matt shut his eyes and said the words, “Stefan Salvatore. But he gave the car to his girlfriend?” He knew he was ending his sentence so that it sounded like a question, but he could hardly believe Elena’s coaching.

Now the sheriff was beginning to sound tired and exasperated. “Are you asking me, Matt? So you were driving the brand-new car of your friend’s girlfriend. And her name is…?”

There was a brief moment when the girls seemed to disagree and Matt hung in limbo. But then Bonnie threw her arms up and Meredith moved forward, pointing to herself.

“Meredith Sulez,” Matt said weakly. He heard the hesitation in his own voice and he repeated, huskily but with more conviction, “Meredith Sulez.”

Now Elena was whispering rapidly in Meredith’s ear.

“And the car was purchased where? Mr. Honeycutt?”

“Yes,” Matt said. “Just a second—” He put the phone into Meredith’s outstretched hand.

“This is Meredith Sulez,” Meredith said smoothly, in the polished, relaxed tones of a classical music disk jockey.

“Miss Sulez, you’ve heard the conversation so far?”

“Ms.Sulez, please, Sergeant. I have.”

“Did you, in fact, lend your car to Mr. Honeycutt?”

“I did.”

“And where is Mr.”—there was a shuffling of paper—“Stefan Salvatore, the original owner of the car?”

He’s not asking her where they bought it, Matt thought. He must know.

“My boyfriend is away from town right now,” Meredith said, still in the same refined, unflappable voice. “I don’t know when he’ll be back. When he is, shall I have him call you?”

“That might be wise,” Sheriff Mossberg said dryly. “These days very few cars are bought with cash on the line, especially brand-new Jaguars. I’d like your driver’s license number, also. And, in fact, I’d very much like to speak to Mr. Salvatore when he returns.”

“That may be very soon,” Meredith said, a bit slowly, but following Elena’s coaching. Then she recited her driver’s license number from memory.

“Thank you,” Sheriff Mossberg said briefly. “That will be all for—”

“May I just say one thing? Matt Honeycutt would never, ever remove stop signs or yield signs. He’s a very conscientious driver and was a leader in his high school class. You can speak to any of Robert E. Lee High School’s teachers or even the principal if she’s not on vacation. Any one of them will tell you the same thing.”

The sheriff didn’t seem to be impressed. “You can tell him from me that I’ll be keeping an eye on him in the future. In fact it might be a good idea if he stopped in the Sheriff’s Department today or tomorrow,” he said, and then the phone went dead.

Matt burst out, “Stefan’s girlfriend? You, Meredith? What if the car dealer says the girl was a blond? How are we going to work that out?”

“We aren’t,” Elena said simply from behind Meredith. “Damon is. All we have to do is to find him. I’m sure he can take care of Sheriff Mossberg with a little mind control — if the price is right. And don’t worry about me,” she added gently. “You’re frowning, but everything is going to be fine.”