Lydia looked over at Dean. "No!" Their eyes met. "No. He was a great-help." The medic knelt to look at her knee. "It's just a scrape. I slipped coming up." The medic tried to examine her but she waved him away, her eyes on Dean all the while.
"You've had a hell of a night," Fitzgerald said to her. "Why don't you take off? Have a shot or two of whiskey. This is tough duty. I'll stop by later and check in on you."
"No!" She said it with a snarl, and then dropped her eyes. "I just want to be alone-and get some sleep." She looked once more at Dean, turned, and began hobbling down the road to her car. It was blocked by other vehicles and would require considerable maneuvering before she could leave. She sat alone in the darkened car, waiting, her head bowed low.
Fitzgerald moved too close to Dean. "So what were you doing up here? How much did you see?" Dean turned away without answering and walked toward his Jeep. Fitzgerald chased after him and grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. "Hey, you're a witness and I want your statement, whether you like it or not!"
Dean moved close enough to bump Fitzgerald but held his temper. Others turned around and stared at the pair. "Take it easy, Fitz," one of them said. "He was down there, too."
"In the car?" Fitzgerald asked.
"No," Dean answered. "And I'm not a witness. I didn't see it." He turned and went to his Jeep.
Fitzgerald didn't follow but called after him, "I still have to talk to you!" When Dean didn't respond, he added, "Tomorrow," but made no further move to stop him.
Dean's Jeep was at the uphill end of the line of cluttered vehicles and Lydia Larkin was long gone by the time he was free to leave. He drove directly home, knowing Cynthia would be terrified by his absence and the sound of sirens in the night. Exiting traffic from the fireworks delayed his progress, but as he turned in front of Bird Song both Fred and Cynthia were on the porch to greet him.
"We heard," his wife said as they kissed. She continued to hold him. "I was so frightened when you were late. Then we heard it was Billy."
He murmured an agreement. "Sorry I couldn't call. I knew you'd worry."
She took his hand to lead him up to the porch where Fred stood. The old man said nothing but shook his hand. The look in his eyes conveyed the sympathy Dean knew he felt.
Dean continued to his bedroom with Cynthia following. He changed into a clean shirt as he briefly described hearing the accident, climbing down to investigate and discovering Billy Langstrom's body.