Glass on Pavement

Chapter One

"Officer Conage, what have you found?"

Cheryl straightened and brushed bits of glass from her pants. The two females in the accident had been rushed to the hospital already. They were both severely injured, both in a coma. The chance they would survive was small.

She knelt again and rubbed her thumb across a tire mark. Her finger came away black. Cheryl sighed. "Nothing yet, Sheriff." She stayed down for another moment before she got to her feet and made herself cross to the edge of the road. This was where the cars had tumbled after the collision. She could see the wrecked remains of them. Twisted metal. There was blood everywhere, and a trail of glass on the pavement leading down. The two mangled things could hardly be called cars anymore.

Cheryl stumbled down the steep slope. Branches and weeds snagged at her pants. She pushed several tall bushes out of her way. When she reached the cars the smell of blood and spilled gasoline was stifling. She pulled her shirt up over her nose and continued to the wreckage.

What did she honestly think she would find? Several police officers had scoured over the area. The cause of the crash still seemed to be slick roads. Witnesses had confirmed however, that the woman driving had not been speeding. She hadn't been identified yet, but Cheryl had seen her while she was being loaded into an ambulence. She looked old enough to have experience driving in the rain. For some reason Cheryl didn't think the weather had any role in what happened last night.

She forced her way through undergrowth and stray bits of metal, and made her way to the closest car. It was the vehicle both women had been in. Cheryl found the spot that used to be the passenger side, and she crawled in. The glovebox was half caved in, and it took her several minutes of grunting and tugging to get it open. She reached inside and pulled out the contents, setting the pile on her lap. The car insurance papers were there, and so was a driving permit. The picture looked similar to the younger one that had been taken to the hospital. Cheryl set it aside for further examination and continued going through the pile. There were bank statements, business cards, female necessities, a hairbrush, several CD's, and a notebook.

Cheryl held her breath while her eyes took it in. The smooth, red leather binding had ink stains and scratch marks, but it looked promising. She set everything else aside and stroked the binding of the thick, tattered notebook. What was it? A planner? A scheduling book? Something business related? Or something else? After all, there had been a teenager in the car. Perhaps it belonged to her.

She jumped when a drop fell onto the back of her neck. She touched the spot and examined her finger. It was blood. With a shiver, Cheryl tucked the notebook into her belt and snatched the other items before climbing out of the car. She had to wiggle around and do a bit of manuevering to get out because it was so deformed.

When she looked up she could see the sheriff peering down the slope, shading his eyes with a hand. He saw her emerge from the wreckage and called, "You find something Officer Conage?"

Cheryl grunted as she started up the slope, holding the glovebox contents in one arm. "Yes, sir." She huffed when she reached the top of the slope. "Didn't your boys think to check the glovebox?"

Sheriff Farold grinned. "I reckon they couldn't find the damn thing."

Cheryl laughed and handed the pile to the sheriff. He glanced through a few things, pausing on the insurance statements and the permit. "These would've been nice to have," he grunted, scowling and shaking his head.

Cheryl felt her throat close slightly when her arm brushed the notebook. It could be something important. It could hold clues to the crash. Then again, it could just be a useless scrap of leather and paper. How would she know though? How would she know, unless she opened it up, and read it?