‘Hi,’ she said to the woman behind the reception counter. ‘I’m looking for a patient named Justin Arden. Which room is he in?’

‘Are you a family member?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I’m his Aunt, I’ve just arrived in town.’

A few clacks of the keyboard later and she had a room number. ‘Ward C, Room 101.’

She took a deep breath and walked into the room. Joan was nowhere to be seen, but Justin was lying on the hospital bed. His eyes were closed, but they opened slowly when she said his name.

‘Justin?’

He blinked. ‘Mrs Wright?’

‘Yeah, hi. How are you?’

‘Sore.’ He tried to smile, but it seemed to hurt him. There were half-healed scabs on his face.

‘I’ve come to ask about the accident.’

‘Accident?’

‘Wren. You were driving. Justin, do you remember?’ He seemed pretty drugged up, but maybe he’d be more forthcoming.

‘Wren,’ he said sadly.

She swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in her throat. ‘It was an accident,’ he said slowly. ‘Swerved to avoid a deer, hit a tree.’

‘That’s what happened?’

‘Yeah,’ he said thickly.

‘Justin, there were no skid marks – why didn’t you brake?’

‘Happened too fast. No time to think.’ He was falling asleep while talking to her. She wasn’t going to get much more out of him, and she still had questions.

‘Why wasn’t Wren wearing a seatbelt?’

‘Not sure,’ he said slowly.

‘What are you doing in here?’ came the strident voice of Joan Arden. ‘You can’t be in here. Leave now or I will call security.’ It was an over-the-top reaction, and Vanessa had to wonder why.

‘I was just coming to see how Justin was doing, but he is a little out of it.’

‘I don’t want you talking to him.’

‘Why not?’ Vanessa replied, folding her arms across her chest.

‘Because Justin has been through something traumatic and I don’t want him to be reminded of that. He has a lot to recover from – he may never walk the same again. He has a concussion, a crushed leg from being pinned under the steering column, and memory-loss issues. He’s in no shape for visitors.’

‘Joan, I understand he’s in pain, but my son is dead, and I need answers. Justin may have them.’

‘Fuck off, Vanessa.’

Vanessa was taken aback by her words, her tone, her demeanor, but left anyway. She was going to have to try a different tack with Justin. She’d think on it some more.

She drove back to their small town and headed over to Wade’s house. The front yard was unkempt – weeds up to the knees, toys half hidden among the out-of-control foliage. She knocked on the door and heard the baby crying; someone was definitely home. A harried-looking Phillipa opened the door. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded.

She decided to be direct. ‘I want to speak to Wade. I want to ask him a few questions about the accident.’