Chapter Seven

When Doc filled a wineglass with her favorite white wine and handed it to Hannah before he served anyone else, Hannah knew that whatever they had to tell her wasn’t good. She waited until everyone else had been served and then she spoke. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

Delores looked at Doc and Doc looked at Delores. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Delores gave a slight nod and Doc cleared his throat. “This isn’t really appropriate conversation for dinner,” he said. “We should wait until after we’ve eaten.”

“No,” Hannah said. “Whatever it is, I want to know now.”

“It’s that man you hit with your truck this morning,” Delores said, and Hannah noticed that her mother wasn’t quite able to meet her eyes. “Doc just finished the autopsy and . . . and . . .”

Delores stopped speaking, clearly unable to go on, and Hannah knew that whatever it was, it was deadly serious. “What?” she asked, turning to Doc.

“With the exception of a cracked cheekbone, the rest of his injuries were consistent with the damage to the front of your truck,” Doc said.

“Did the cracked cheekbone cause his death?” Norman asked the question that Hannah was afraid to ask.

“No. He died almost instantly from massive trauma and an obstructed airway.”

“So when I hit him, I broke his neck,” Hannah said.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Hannah. I was hoping that there was some other explanation, but there isn’t. When you hit him with your truck, you broke his neck and killed him.”

Hannah swallowed hard and put down her wineglass without taking a sip. Even though she’d known that it was a long shot, she’d been hoping that Doc’s autopsy would reveal that the man had died of something else. Of course it hadn’t. She had killed him and now that Doc had performed the autopsy, it was official.

“It was an accident, dear.” Delores reached across the table to pat Hannah’s hand. “Nobody blames you.”

“That’s right,” Norman said, reaching out to cover her other hand with his. “It was a terrible storm. You couldn’t see him. And then there was the tree branch in the road when you came around the bend. You certainly didn’t mean to hit him. Everyone knows that.”

“There’s more, Hannah,” Doc said looking sad. “There are times when I hate some aspects of my job and this is one of them. I have a responsibility as the Winnetka County Coroner. I’m sorry, but I had to report it to the authorities.”

“To the authorities,” Hannah repeated, still not understanding exactly what Doc was trying to tell her. “Which authorities?”

“I had to file a report with the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department.”

“But . . . why, Doc? It was an accident!”

“No one doubts that, Hannah. We know that you didn’t intend to hit him, but you did hit him and he died as a result. Unfortunately in this case, whenever that happens there are consequences.”