Officer Morrison kept one finger on the security photograph as Charlotte stared down at it.
The entire dining room seemed to lean closer.
The image was grainy, taken from a camera mounted above the Sterling Room’s side entrance.
Rain blurred the streetlights, but the shape of the pickup was clear.
So was the dent above its rear wheel and the pale strip running across the tailgate.
“Ms.
Thomas,” Janet repeated, “is this your ex-husband’s truck?”
Tyler answered before Charlotte could.
“No.”
His voice came too quickly.
Charlotte turned toward him.
The color had drained from her face.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“It is.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened.
“You can’t tell that from this picture.”
“I can,” Charlotte said.
“I rode in that truck for nine years.”
Officer Morrison slid a second photograph from the folder.
This one came from a traffic camera two blocks away.
It showed the same pickup entering the intersection at Fifth and Madison against a red light.
The time stamp itself was too small for the diners to read, but Janet had already memorized it.
“Your ex left this curb at 6:14,” she told Charlotte.
“At 6:16, that truck struck Hannah Wilson’s car and continued through the intersection.”
Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth.
Tyler stared at the photograph as if refusing to understand it could make the connection disappear.
“That’s impossible,” he said.
“No,” Janet replied.
“It’s two cameras and three witnesses.”
The restaurant manager stood near the bar, frozen between curiosity and alarm.
At the neighboring tables, no one pretended not to listen anymore.
Officer Morrison pulled out the empty chair across from Tyler but did not sit.
“We need to know what happened before that truck left.”
“Nothing happened,” Tyler said.
“We were having lunch.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“He came inside.”
Tyler’s eyes snapped toward her.
“Charlotte.”
“Your ex entered the restaurant?” Janet asked.
Charlotte nodded slowly.
“He saw us through the window first.
Then he came in and started yelling.”
“What was he yelling about?”
Charlotte’s eyes dropped to the white tablecloth.
Tyler gave her a warning look, but the room had become too quiet for private signals.
“He said Tyler was married,” she admitted.
“He said Tyler had been lying to both of us.”
Tyler leaned forward.
“She’s upset.
She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Charlotte pulled away from him.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
Officer Morrison kept her tone even.
“Did the confrontation become physical?”
“No,” Charlotte said.
