Hot Seat by Simon Wood Page A

from you. I need the one-two-three of everything that occurred as you experienced it and nothing else. Just your viewpoint. OK?’
    I liked Lucas and the way he went about his job. He was impartial and balanced, which made sense. He wasn’t judge and jury. He just collected the information.
    I nodded and proceeded to outline what happened from the moment I entered the roundabout until the woman in the Renault gave up on her chase. Lucas wrote down everything I said on a statement form, stopping me when he needed clarification on a point. Every time I tried to insert an assumption, Lucas reined me in and asked me to stick to the facts. At the end, he handed me three pages of paperwork.
    â€˜Read that over, initial each page and sign the last page. If you need to make changes, just make them and initial.’
    I looked the pages over. Sergeant Lucas had captured my account as I’d described it. A couple of additional things occurred to me as I read the statement. Lucas stood next to me while I hand wrote in additions and initialled the changes.
    â€˜So, is this an accurate account, according to you?’
    It was and it didn’t look like much. I put my faith in the facts. They were probably the only thing that could save me. This woman could say I’d driven her off the road, but her story didn’t hold water. Steve’s van didn’t have a scratch. Considering the damage to her car, she probably ran off the road all by herself in her rage, and was trying to squeeze some money out of Steve’s insurance to pay for it. ‘Yes, this is how it happened.’
    â€˜Then all I need is your signature.’
    I picked up the pen to sign, but Sergeant Lucas put his hand over mine. ‘Now you’re sure you want to sign this?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Once you sign this statement, it goes on record, so if there’s anything you want to change, do it now. We can tear this up and start over. It doesn’t matter to me how long this takes as long as we get the truth.’
    I tapped my statement. ‘This is the truth.’
    He looked at me with disappointment. He didn’t believe me.
    â€˜What are you trying to say?’
    â€˜All I’m saying is if your cars collided, I understand the situation. You’re a racing driver who can’t afford to lose your licence. Maybe you panicked and drove off. It’s totally understandable. I could see myself doing the same in your position.’
    â€˜But I didn’t. I did exactly what’s written here. I don’t know why the other driver is saying what she’s saying, but it’s not the truth.’ I tapped the statement again. ‘This is the truth.’
    Sergeant Lucas stood back from me. ‘If you sign that document, I can’t help you further. Charges will likely be filed against you.’
    â€˜I don’t need your help,’ I said and signed the statement.

Lap Ten
    D ylan poked his head through the door just after noon. ‘Ready for lunch?’
    I was more than ready. I’d been stewing in my own thoughts since Sergeant Lucas had left. I couldn’t believe that Miss Angry Renault had lied. What did she want – revenge for the incident? No. She couldn’t be that bent out of shape over it. Maybe she’d seen the Archway logo on the back of the van and thought she could squeeze some money out of the business. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I said.
    â€˜Rough morning?’ Dylan asked.
    â€˜More than you know.’
    I locked up Archway and Dylan drove us towards Ascot.
    â€˜You want to lose the scowl and tell me what happened this morning?’
    I hadn’t realized I’d been wearing my feelings for all to see. ‘Sorry. When I dropped off the Van Diemen the other day, I had a near miss with a car on the way back. The police just came by to question me because they’re investigating a claim that I ran a woman off the road.’
    â€˜Has