As more cars joined the traffic jam, several people jogged towardthem.
“I can’t get the door open,” he said. “It’s locked.”
Despite the obvious force of the crash, none of the windows had broken. In fact, from the dashboard back, the car looked fine. Tara knocked on the little girl’s window. “Honey, can you unlock the door?” she called, hoping the girl could hear.
The child stared at her but stopped wailing. Wiping her damp cheeks, she thought for a moment,and then pressed a button on the armrest.Click.
Tara opened the door. “Good girl. Are you all right?”
Her lower lip trembled and she scooped in a shaky breath. “Mama’s hurt.” Tears started up again in earnest.
“We’re going to get help for her, okay?” Tara reached between the seat and the sidewall to unlock the car from the passenger side. Multiple locks clicked in unison.
Jeff flung openthe mom’s door. “Ma’am?”
A white woman with her gray hair twisted into a low bun tapped his shoulder. “I’m a doctor. Let me take a look.”
He stepped aside. “Let me know what I can do.”
“Call 911.”
While Jeff dialed dispatch, Tara focused on the girl, who was trying to unlatch her seatbelt. “Just stay here for a minute, okay? I want someone to make sure you’re not hurt.”
The girl droppedher hands. “Mama,” she said, her voice tight with fear.
“The doctor’s looking at her now.” Tara smiled. “What’s your name?”
The girl sniffled and stared at her mom for several seconds, but finally said, “Crystal.”
“Hi, Crystal. I’m Tara.” Snagging a red, flowered jacket off the floor, Tara held it up. “Are you cold?”
Crystal nodded and Tara laid it over the girl.
“How old are you?”
“Five.” Crystal held out a hand with all her fingers spread, and looked up through dark lashes. “How old are you?”
The girl’s question made Tara smile. “I’m twenty-nine.”
“Mama’s older than you.”
“Oh, yeah? How old is she?”
Crystal bit her lip and scrunched up her face, eyes closed. “Thirty-two” came out sounding like “firty-two.”
Up front, the doctor was examining the woman’s eyes witha penlight and asking, “Ma’am?”
“Do you know your mom’s name?” Tara asked.
“Neema.”
“The driver’s name is Neema,” Tara said to the doctor. “She’s thirty-two.”
The older woman nodded before returning her attention to her patient. “Is the girl injured?”
“I don’t think so,” Tara said. “Just scared.”
“Honey,” the doctor said, meeting Crystal’s gaze. “Did your mom fall asleep before thecar crashed or after?”
