“Like I said, it ate me up, but I loved my own hide,” Liam said. “I promised myself, when the time was right, I’d return it to his family.” He looked at Vance. “But mostly, I kept it because I couldn’t face you. It was easier to hate myself than knock on your door.”
“You could have come forward,” Vance said firmly. Liam gave a tired, crooked smile. “To whom? The cops?” he asked. “Your people wrote it up as an accident before the wreck cooled. Someone in your department wanted it buried. What do you suppose they’d have done to me?”