Normally, that’d be a monumental task. I can’t remember when I started measuring my decisions by the metric of how they’d impact my mom. Maybe because I alwayshave. Will it help her? Will it hurt her? Always in my mind. Always the deciding factor.
But right now? When my current circumstances have hurtledfarpast monumental into the territory of colossal? I can manage it.
“When you hang up, you’ll call 911, right? Right away.”
“I will. Right away.”
I don’t want to hang up. I don’t want to sever the connection to normalcy. I want to keep listening to the whiny feedback from the car’s Bluetooth speakers. As long as I do, nothing that bad can happen, can it?
I dial 911 as soon as the call ends.
Two beats and a woman’s raspy voice answers. “911. What’s your emergency?”
This might be a massive mistake. I just planned this call with Emma. What if itsoundslike it’s been planned out? I need to sound like I’m scared.
Youarescared,Emma says in my head.
“I need help. I’m in Russell Township on Harmon Road. A guy just tried to kidnap me. He shot the man who was helping me. My phone isn’t working and I can’t get any service. I don’t know what to do.”
“Ma’am, what’s your name?”
“Lucie Moore.”
“Lucie, you said you’re in a house. Do you know the number?”
“No, no, I don’t know. It’s—There’s only two houses on this road. It’s older. There’s a deer statue by the road. Theman who lives here—his name is Clarence. He was really nice. I think he’s dead.”
“Are you injured, Lucie?”
I look down at myself. At the dirt smeared across my jeans, at the puffy red patches where the world has scraped against my skin. I almost say no, then remember.
“Yes. I need an ambulance. There’s a lot of blood. My dog is with me. She got pepper spray in her eyes. That’s probably pretty bad. I don’t know. She’s friendly.”
“Thank you for telling me, Lucie. Authorities have been dispatched to your location. I want you to stay on—”
“I need an ambulance!” Ripley whines. I’m yelling. I quiet my voice and stroke Ripley’s head nervously. “Not just the cops. I said I think Clarence is dead, but I don’t know. If he isn’t he needs an ambulance like right now.”
“They’re on their way. Can you see him?”
“No. He’s outside.”
“Okay. Stay inside and stay away from the windows. They’ll help him if they can when they get there. Can you tell me about the man who tried to kidnap you? Do you know where he is?”
“No, I don’t know. Middle-aged. White. Brown hair. Blue eyes.” Inside my head is a buzzing, blank space. I hope I’m doing a good job. I hope she’s not just sending the cops. I hope they don’t shoot my dog if she does. “Do you know when they’ll get here?”
Moving toward the bay window is a bad idea. I know that. It pulls at me anyway.
The 911 operator’s voice comes from a distance. She’sasking if I knew the man who shot Clarence or if he was a stranger.
Blood stains the collar of Clarence’s flannel and his neck. Dark-colored splatters mark the grass around where his body lies crumpled in the yard.
Was that in him?I think numbly.
Coagulation, my brain supplies.
What if he’s alive? The side of his face turned toward the house is undamaged. The only sign of injury is the blood itself. It’s too far away to see if he’s breathing. What if he is and I’m staring uselessly while his life seeps out into the ground?
What if—
