Driven Read Online Free Page A

to tell you we’re almost out of the woods, but at his age…” The doctor
     finished his sentence with a shake of his head.
    Gavin nodded slowly, then looked straight at the doctor. “Doc, I know he’s an old man who probably doesn’t have a whole lot
     of time left anyway. But he means a lot to me. Please call me when he comes to.” He handed the doctor a white business card.
     “His wife’s gone and most of his other close relatives have either died or moved away. I don’t want him to be alone when he
     starts to hurt.”
    Dr. Cohn took the business card. “Sure… Detective,” he said, reading the card. I’ll make sure you’re notified immediately.”
    As the doctor shook Gavin’s hand and left, the man in the tweed jacket stood up and walked over.
    “May I have a turn? I’d like to talk to you about what happened,” he said, holding out a detective’s shield. “I’m Detective
     Steve Rogers. I couldn’t help hearing the doctor call you Detective. What job are—”
    Gavin nodded before Rogers could finish his question. “Gavin Pierce, Nassau County.”
    “Which squad?”
    “Homicide.”
    “Really… Look, I, uh, understand this isn’t an easy time for you, but as you know, we have to ask dumb questions at bad times.
     If it’s okay, I’d like to—”
    “No problem,” Gavin said impatiently. If he weren’t so utterly consumed with Grampa’s condition he would have been amused
     at the role reversal.
    “I’ve got one question: did you see him?”
    “Who?”
    “The driver.”
    Gavin’s eyes widened. “You don’t have the driver yet?” How was that possible? He remembered the driver hadn’t been in the
     truck, but he’d assumed the person was simply wandering aimlessly in a shocked stupor.
    “No,” Rogers said, then looked away, his disappointment overshadowed by anger.
    Gavin’s focus intensified. “Weren’t you able to ID the driver through the truck?”
    “It wasn’t his,” Rogers said, clearly frustrated.
    “Stolen?”
    Rogers shook his head. “Belonged to the passenger.”
    “The passenger?” Gavin said, surprised anyone would abuse avehicle that badly with the owner sitting right next to him. “Did you check with the passenger’s next of kin?”
    Rogers looked at him blankly. “Of course.”
    “And?” Gavin said, not caring if he sounded like he was challenging the man’s competency.
    “I spoke to his widow this morning. It wasn’t a pretty scene. But aside from that, she said her husband left in the morning
     to go fishing off the beach like he does every Sunday. Surf casting. All she could tell me was she was shocked he had been
     drinking. She claimed he was a recovering alcoholic and hadn’t had a drink in two years.”
    “Nothing on the driver?”
    Rogers shook his head. “The owner went alone and never mentioned anything about meeting up with anyone before he left. In
     fact, the wife said he preferred being alone. Said he would go to clear his head out. He was an auto mechanic—was putting
     in some long hours in his own garage and had one day off. He didn’t care if he caught a fish or not. And we’ve got no priors
     on him whatsoever.”
    “Still, the driver’s got to be somewhere,” Gavin said, his voice rising. “He’s got to be hurt. Did you check the local vendors,
     the park, under the boardwalk, other hospitals… the freakin’ garbage cans?”
    “We’re doing the best we can. Believe me, we want this guy, too.”
    Gavin exhaled, limped to the waiting-room window, and stared intently into the lightening sky. “He’ll turn up.”
    “He didn’t last time or the time before that,” Rogers said.
    Gavin spun around. “
What?
”
    “About a month ago we had a similar accident, although I’m using the term loosely. It wasn’t quite as spectacular and didn’t
     receive the press this one’s gonna, but it was the same guy.”
    “What happened?”
    “A movie theater. A multiplex down on Utica got rammed, killing two ticket