I whirled around, reaching just as instinctively for my weapon.

The sound of the crash was followed almost instantaneously by the squealing of brakes. Charlene had hit hers, and the driver of the car that had rear-ended her had also made an abrupt stop.

It took only half a second to recall the woman behind the wheel, and the man sitting next to her. It was the couple from the lobby of the first hotel the night before. The ones who’d recognized Jeremy.

Not that I had a perfect view of them. Both front airbags had deployed. They’d deflated enough for me to see that the man had a phone in his hand, holding it in camera mode, and the woman had put her hand over her mouth in what looked like a gesture of shock and horror. I was guessing she hadn’t meant to ram Charlene’s car, but had gotten caught up in the moment.

The man had flung open his door and was aiming the phone at Jeremy, snapping away. But then he saw me, pointing my gun at him.

The woman behind the wheel started screaming.

“Donny!” she shouted.

Donny put his hands over his head. “Jesus! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

I yelled at Jeremy, “Check Charlene!”

He ran toward the Miata. I moved toward Donny, who still had his hands in the air. “Get down,” I said.

He lay flat on the pavement, head down, arms outstretched. “Please don’t shoot me!” he said again.

I tucked the gun away and leaned into the car from the passenger side. “Are you hurt?” I asked the woman.

“It was an accident!” she said. “I didn’t mean to hit that car! Donny said speed up, the kid was going back into the hotel!”

“Are you hurt?” I repeated.

While she’d hit the Miata hard enough to make the airbags go off, it was still a low-speed accident. Damage to the cars, I’d noticed seconds earlier, appeared minimal.

“I . . . I don’t know,” she said, patting her face and her chest. “I . . . I think I’m okay.”

Several staff from the hotel had run outside. I shouted, “Call 911.”

A couple of them nodded, as if it had already been done.

“Donny just wanted a picture,” the woman said. “For the website. There’s money!”

I moved away from the car and said to Donny, still splayed out on the asphalt, “Get up.”

Jeremy was with Charlene. He’d opened her door and she was sitting sideways, her butt in the seat, her feet on the pavement. She had her head down and was rubbing the back of her head.

“How is she?” I asked.

Before Jeremy could speak, Charlene said, “My neck hurts.”

“You’re going to have to go to the hospital,” I said. “We’ll call your parents.”