"I was in an accident—in a car."
"Yeah? You seem to be in a hell of a lot of accidents. I think maybe you better come downtown with us. You got quite a lot of explaining to do. You keep popping up in this too often, Cameron. I don't like coincidences."
"I killed her!" Boyle blurted out.
We all stared at him—Bullock, his lean partner, myself. The big youth rolled over on his side. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he began to beat his head against the pavement with a terrifying deliberateness.
"I killed her, I killed her," he moaned. "I killed her!"
The corporal bent down swiftly and jerked Boyle's head up. Sgt. Bullock moved in quickly. Between them they held the big man immobile.
"Okay," the sergeant said after a moment, glancing at me over his shoulder. "So he did it. So maybe that lets you out. We won't need you tonight—but stay where I can find you. I've still got some questions to ask you."
"What about him? What are you going to do with him?"
"There's an ambulance on the way." He looked past me, his gaze sweeping in a circle. "If you want to help you can tell these people to go back to bed. Then you might as well do the same."
I discovered that a large number of people had come out of their trailers and were standing in clusters talking and staring curiously at the tableau in the street. For some reason I was surprised. The whole incident had happened so quickly and with so little noise that I hadn't thought of anyone being aroused.