by Diane Burke
“Thanks, Cindy.” Adam reached through the open door and handed her a set of keys. “Tell Charlie to give us a couple of hours before bringing Rerun and the rest of my things over to the house. I want the boy to have some time to get acclimated to being home.”
“Sure thing, Doc.” Cindy flashed him a bright smile and the cutest little wave and then walked back inside.
Liz chewed her lower lip and tried not to grin.
Even in high school, Adam had never liked flirts and she could see the years hadn’t changed him. She recognized the red flush on his neck, the sheepish look in his eyes when he looked up at Liz to see if she had realized Cindy was flirting with him. His discomfort was so genuine, so sweet, she almost laughed out loud. Almost. The child’s loud, shrill screams made it impossible to focus on much else than saving her eardrums at the moment.
She climbed into the driver’s seat and twisted her face toward the back.
“Why the vest?” She had to shout to be heard over the boy’s screaming.
“Remember our conversation about swaddling? The weight of the vest and the snug seat belt should help Adam feel a little more secure on the trip home.”
As if on cue, the boy continued to sob but the sounds no longer rent the air.
“Who’s Rerun and Charlie?”
“I’ll explain later. Just get us out of here.”
A tap on the driver’s side window drew Liz’s attention. A woman she didn’t recognize held a microphone in her hand. A photographer stood behind her with camera ready and probably rolling.
“Sheriff, is it true that you’re taking the boy back to the scene of the crime?”
“Sheriff.” A second voice grabbed her attention. Harriet Townsend, a reporter from the local paper, tapped on the passenger window. “Has the boy said anything to you yet? Is he able to describe the killer?”
Within seconds, Liz saw at least a dozen more people running toward the car. Heaven help them, their little hometown secret had leaked out and was now national news.
As reporters stormed the car and banged on the windows, Jeremy’s cries began to intensify.
“Get us out of here before those idiots make the situation worse.”
Liz ordered the people to step back and slowly eased her car through the growing crowd.
She heard Adam trying to soothe the screaming child. He spoke in short, concise sentences. His voice remained low and calm.
Liz pulled out of the hospital lot and moved into the flow of traffic. She glanced in the rearview mirror. Adam held a small wad of brightly colored putty in the palm of his hand. He squeezed and stretched the putty and then handed it to the boy and encouraged him to do the same. Sobs subsided into whimpers and then hiccups rather than tears.
Liz breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention back to the road. She admired the way Adam was able to take charge of the situation and soothe the boy. Of course, he should know how. This was his job.
But not all psychiatrists knew what they were doing.
Fleeting thoughts of Luke surfaced and left a bitter taste in her throat.
She glanced in the mirror one more time. Satisfied with the peace that had descended upon the backseat, Liz allowed herself to relax. On the very slim chance that Dr. Adam Morgan was half as good as the reputation that preceded him, she conceded that maybe he was right. Maybe the familiar surroundings of his own home would be good for the boy. Maybe this wasn’t going to be the full-blown disaster she’d anticipated after all.
But just in case, she started to pray.
* * *
He positioned himself on the ground, well hidden from view in the brush at the edge of the woods. He’d just surveyed the area with his binoculars for the fourth time in the past hour and was certain he’d picked the optimal spot. There were no houses, no hiking trails, no reason for anyone to be walking in this area. No witnesses.
He propped himself up on his elbows and raised the rifle to his shoulder. He adjusted the scope and aimed the weapon exactly at the crest of the curve in the road. He calculated wind velocity, car speed and made all necessary adjustments. He was ready.
Where were they?
Rivulets of perspiration dotted his forehead and slid down the back of his neck. Gnats buzzed around his head, and he steeled himself not to lose concentration and swat at them.
The news on the radio had prompted him to action. He’d raced to the Henderson house to make sure they hadn’t arrived before him only to find hordes of media camped in the driveway looking for their lead story for the night.
Well, be patient, folks. Real soon now, I’m going to make sure you get the story of a lifetime.
He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. Hours ago, he’d shot up with heroin and cocaine, known on the street as speedballing. He needed another fix and he hated himself for it. The hit of cocaine he’d had in his kitchen wasn’t taking the edge off the urge for more heroin. It simply energized him for this task so he wouldn’t nod out.
When had he become a junkie? Nothing good came from drugs. He knew that. But still… How could he ever explain how great it felt to shoot up? The feel of the rush. Wired up. Energized. Alive. And then the nodding out. The deep well of black nothingness. Maybe it wasn’t all bad.
He tapped his finger against the gun stock and tried to distract himself by beating out a rhythm to one of his favorite songs. A bead of sweat dripped into his eye and he cursed as he wiped it away. Boy, he needed another fix.
He shifted his weight and visually checked out his rifle. The barrel rested in the tripod. He adjusted the vertical cheek piece. He looked into the telescopic sight and then he saw them, approaching fast from the east. He eased his finger against the trigger and waited.
Any second now.
Wait for it.
Wait.
The police cruiser pulled into the curve.
FOUR
Liz glanced in her rearview mirror. Jeremy had drifted off to sleep clutching the teddy bear she’d brought to the hospital the night of the murders. His thumb barely clung to his lower lip. His short brown hair, drenched with sweat from his earlier temper tantrum, was plastered in little ringlets across his forehead. He looked so tiny…and innocent…and precious.
Her heart swelled with maternal instincts she hadn’t known she had. Having children had never entered her mind, certainly not in the years she’d worked to achieve her status as sheriff of Country Corners. She hit the transmit key on her radio and reported her ETA to the dispatcher.
The air rent with a crack followed by another. Before she could identify the sound, the vehicle shuddered violently and the steering wheel jumped out of her hands.
It took a second for her to react.
But a second was all it took to careen the patrol car out of control.
Liz grasped the wheel hard like it was the reins of a runaway horse. She tried to regain control but, traveling at more than fifty miles per hour, it was a lost cause. The car propelled toward the edge of an embankment. She knew if she continued in the direction of her skid, they would catapult into the air at the curve. She turned the wheel hard to the left, trying to compensate and grab hold of the road through the turn. The rear end continued to fishtail. At any other stretch of road, she might have been able to straighten out and regain control but not on this curve. It was just too sharp.
As the car went airborne, all Liz could do was yell, “Hold on!”
The road disappeared beneath her. Nothing but blue sky above and empty air surrounded them. Then the nose of the car dipped down, traveling at top speed back to earth. Seconds later the front grill hit the ground with a bone-jarring, crushing thud.
Upon impact, the air bags flew open and the force hit her chest and stole her breath away.
The car flipped upside down and continued to slide down the ravine on its roof, bumping…bucking…grinding over every stone, rut and pebble. The sound of tree branches scratching along the sides of the vehicle sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
Then absolute silence.
Liz didn’t move. She couldn’t. It took her a second or two to realize the crushing pressure on her chest was her seat belt holding her suspended in space and stealing whatever breath remained in her lungs.
Jeremy.
She pushed against the air bag and tried to find the release button on her seat belt.
“Jeremy.”
Liz twisted her head to the side, throwing her voice toward the backseat. She stifled a scream.
Adam’s face was mere inches from her own. He must have removed his seat belt so he could tend to Jeremy and had smashed against the wire barrier between the front and back seats. His eyes were closed and blood flowed down the left side of his face from a nasty-
looking cut on his forehead.
“Adam!”
She couldn’t move enough to see if he was still alive. She tried to turn her head far enough to see Jeremy. It was the deathly silence that frightened her. For once, she gladly would have opted for the sound of his earsplitting screams.
Something heavy pressed against her lower body. She couldn’t feel her legs. Panic washed over her. Why couldn’t she move her legs?
She slid her arm up and reached the radio microphone.
“This is Bravo 24. Come in.”
“This is Dispatch. Go ahead, Sheriff.”
“Officer down. Vehicular accident. Send bus. Over.”
“GPS location complete. Ambulance and backup en route.”
Liz released the button and turned her face back toward Adam. She pushed the air bag away enough to get her hand free. Pain shot through her shoulder but she didn’t stop. Once clear, she slid her fingers through the holes in the wire.
Please, God, let him be alive.
She poked the tips of her fingers through the mesh enough to feel his skin. It took several tries but she was finally able to press one of her fingertips against the carotid artery in his neck. His skin was warm and his pulse strong and steady. It was warm to the touch and Liz released a nervous laugh. He was alive.
Adam’s eyes flickered open at about the same time a scared, protesting wail sounded from Jeremy.
Liz smiled wide and welcomed her tears of relief.
Thank You, Lord. We’re alive.
“Lizzie?”
“Adam. Thank God. How badly are you hurt?”
Adam raised his face off the wire mesh. His head spun and the hand he held against his face came away wet with blood. It took him a moment to get his bearings.
They must have been in an accident. But he couldn’t remember any of it.
Adam ripped a piece of cloth from the tail of his shirt, and wrapped the makeshift bandanna tightly around his head to apply pressure.
“Are you okay? Adam, talk to me.”
“I’m okay.” He blinked his eyes and tried to clear his head. He stared unseeingly through the wire mesh and then his eyes widened as everything came into focus. “Liz! Are you hurt?”
She was crying…and grinning…and hanging upside down. What had happened?
“I’m okay, Adam. Check on Jeremy.”
Immediately Adam turned his attention to the crying boy, who was also suspended from the ceiling. Expertly and slowly he moved his hands over the boy’s body to check for any major injuries or breaks. When nothing seemed wrong, he released the seat belt and lowered Jeremy to a standing position in the tiny space in front of him.
Jeremy wrapped his arms around Adam and held on like he was never going to let go.
Adam twisted his left arm behind his back and pushed down on the handle, but the car door didn’t open. Of course. The back doors in a police cruiser are automatically locked.
“Liz, are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Can you open the back door?”
He heard her grunt and watched as she struggled to move.
“Can you get your seat belt unfastened and move yourself into an upright position?”
“I don’t think so. The metal clasp on my seat belt is crushed. I can’t release it.”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m stuck. Something heavy is pinning my legs. But I’m not in any pain.”
“Can you reach your radio and call for help?”
“I already did.”
No sooner had she answered than the sound of multiple sirens filled the air.
She grunted and groaned and twisted. “Try it now.”
“What?”
“The door.”
Adam pressed down on the handle. He fell out. The short fall knocked the wind out of him. Jeremy tumbled with him, amazingly never letting loose of his death grip on him. He helped the boy to a sitting position.
“We’re okay.” Adam forced Jeremy’s face around. “Look at me. I need to help Ms. Lizzie.” He pried the boy’s hands loose. “Sit here. Don’t move. Do you hear me? Don’t move.”
Adam rushed around to the driver’s side of the car. The entire front of the vehicle looked like a crushed tin can in a recycling bin.
Please, God, don’t let Lizzie’s legs be tangled in that mess.
Adam tugged on the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. He shoved his fingers between the twisted door and the bent frame and then pulled with every ounce of strength in his body. Nothing.
“Try this. It’s all I have for now.” Darlene seemed to appear out of nowhere and Adam had never been happier to see anyone. He took the crowbar from her hand.
“I’ve radioed for the Jaws of Life unit. They should be here soon. Is the sheriff okay?”
“I’m fine,” Liz yelled when she heard her deputy’s voice. “Take care of Jeremy.”
Darlene raced around the car. As she reached the child, she tripped over the teddy bear, which must have fallen out of the car when they’d exited. She sat on the ground, scooped the child up on her lap and handed him the stuffed toy.
Surprisingly, the boy’s cries had stopped and he watched the commotion in silence, his thumb tucked in his mouth, his body gently rocking back and forth.
Adam glanced over at those serious brown eyes and worried that the boy might be going into shock. But there was nothing he could do for him right now. He hoped the paramedics would arrive soon. All he could think about at the moment was getting Lizzie out of this death trap.
He placed the crowbar in the opening again and pulled with all his strength. Still nothing. Not even the slightest budge. He pulled again and again.
Adam saw Sal slide down the ridge a foot or two, fall on his butt, and then regain his footing and continue his slide until he reached them. “Here’s another crowbar. Maybe two of them will give us the leverage we need.”
“Three are better than two.” Tom Miller joined the two men.
Adam, Tom and Sal inserted the crowbars into the opening, used the force of their bodies as leverage and pushed down with all their might. On the second try they were able to pry the door open just wide enough that Sal could reach inside and cut Liz free of her seat belt. No longer bound, she was able to dislodge the computer console that had broken off and pinned her beneath the dashboard.
Once free, she slipped to the floor, which was actually the ceiling of her patrol car, and pulled her feet under her. Her face grimaced in pain and she tentatively ran a hand over her thigh. Her pant leg was torn and her hand came away wet.
The sight of red on her palm sprung Adam into action.
They needed to get Liz out of the car.
Now.
Before anyone else noticed the steady stream of gasoline slowly pooling around their feet.
“Can you climb out on your own?” Adam yelled.
“I don’t think so. My leg doesn’t seem to want to hold my weight.”
“The door’s not open enough to get you out,” Sal yelled. “If we break the window, maybe we can hoist you through.”
“Gas.” Tom kept his voice low so only the other two men could hear. “We’re standing in gasoline.”
A
dam locked eyes with the man. He kept his voice low and stern. “Then we better get your sheriff out of this car before it becomes her coffin. Right?”
The man squirmed beneath Adam’s intense stare and then nodded.
Sal, with his slim, tall build, elbowed his way past Adam, flopped on the ground and shoved his arms inside the opening.
“Grab my hands, boss. We don’t have any time to lose.”
“Everybody hightail it to the road. Now!” Deputy Miller swung his hat back and forth as he ushered gathering onlookers up the embankment. As the smell of gasoline grew stronger, none of them needed a second invitation.
“That goes for you, too, Doc,” Tom ordered.
“I’m not leaving Lizzie.”
Tom grabbed Adam’s arm and stepped between Adam and the car. “Sal’s got it under control. Right now that boy up yonder needs you—and I’ll be guessing the sheriff might need a little informal counseling, too, when all of this is over. Get going, Doc.”
Adam fought the urge to push the older man out of his way. His adrenaline was pumping. He felt like a bull ready to charge anything and anyone in his path that tried to keep him from Liz. Until he saw her hands clasped tightly to Sal’s wrists and knew the detective was going to get her out.
He locked eyes with Tom. The older man nodded and released his hold on Adam’s arm. Reluctantly, Adam turned and climbed up the embankment.
From the top of the rise, Adam turned and watched Sal pull Liz into his arms. He could barely stand the feeling of failure that washed over him. It wasn’t his hands that had pulled her from the wreckage. It wasn’t his arms wrapped around her. He’d let her down—again. She’d been better off without him years ago and nothing had changed. She didn’t need him now, either.
“Put me down.” Liz wriggled and pushed against Sal’s chest. “I can walk.”
“We’re almost at the top.”
“Sal, I’m not kidding. Put me down. How do you think it looks to all those people that the sheriff can’t climb up this embankment under her own steam?”
Sal hesitated then let her slide to her feet, but he kept a steadying hand on her arm.