Dark Confluence: Book One of 'The Darkening' trilogy
“See ya!” he called, “I’ll ring ya later about the insurance and stuff.” He glanced back down
the road, “I reckon ya car’s a write-off, those nose to tails always bugger up the smaller cars,
doubt you’ll be allowed to drive it. Oh, I can hear a siren.” He grinned ruefully, “She’ll be
right, just wait where you are. They know where to find ya,” and then in a cloud of noxious
diesel fumes, he was off and speeding down the road.
“Are you sure you are alright, dear?” enquired a voice above her.
Jen looked up squinting and could only make out a pink and purple haze. Eventually, the
haze resolved itself into the ferret-like features of Miss Amelia Crane, the Chairwoman of the
Country Ladies Society. The local town gossip had descended upon her as soon as Dave had
departed the scene.
“Headache,” Jen explained, touching the now impressively large red swelling on her head
“Then you best be off to the clinic, dear. Oh, and the ambulance is here,” she added quite
unnecessarily, as the big white vehicle with the painfully bright flashing lights pulled up
where Dave’s four wheel drive had been only moments before. Jen found further
conversation impossible as two burly blue uniformed paramedics shooed the now growing
crowd of onlookers back to a reasonable distance and started firing a barrage of questions at
“Was it a car accident, love?”
“Where does it hurt?”
“Can you move your hands and feet?”
“Are you dizzy?”
“Do you have a headache?”
Jen answered their questions as best as she was able, whilst the medics fussed over her.
Moments later, she heard another siren, a police car pulled up, and two uniformed officers got
out. Their eyes noted the crowd, the paramedics, and Jen seated on the footpath. One officer
went back to the car and started talking on the two-way radio, whilst the other walked over to
where she was.
“Hit and run?”
“Jennifer McDonald’s car was hit from behind,” Miss Amelia Crane, piped up helpfully.
“Oh, did you see the accident?” the police Senior Constable enquired.
“Indeed I did,” the old lady said, happy to be the centre of attention. “You see that lady
there on the ground,” and she pointed at Jen, “Well, she stopped suddenly, and Dave
O’Donnell’s 4WD utility ran straight up the back of her car.
“Ah,” the police Senior Constable continued writing in his notebook, then knelt and turned
“Did you hit something, Miss?” he asked.
Jen shrugged, “I thought I did, but Dave looked and couldn’t find anything.”
“Where is your car now...and Dave?”
“He...he moved the car,” she explained unsteadily, her headache boring into her skull. “He
had to go to a job, he was late,” she said apologetically.
“Was he now?” the Senior Constable was unimpressed. “Cars involved in an accident
should not be moved. That will cause problems, and he should never have left the accident
scene. I’ll have words with Dave later.” He looked across the road at the mangled end of the
elderly mini, “Your car?” he asked.
“I’ll take a look.”
The other officer finished speaking on the two-way radio and walked over to where she