But it was still August, a Saturday evening no less, so the streets must be clogged with traffic. The flashing lights, the siren, the blasting horn made little difference.
“Can’t everyone get out of the damn way?” she cried to the EMT who sat opposite her, holding onto the tubing that snaked from an IV bag into Kevin’s arm, his eyes fixed on a small monitor that was attached to white plastic circles pasted on Kevin’s chest. An electrocardiogram, Annie supposed.
“We’ll get there,” the EMT responded. “Your brother’s fairly stable, so that’s good.”
She searched his face to see if he was telling the truth, but she could not be sure. Then she looked back at Kevin. His face was peaceful, his hazel eyes that were exactly like hers, exactly as their mother’s, were closed. If Annie could only see his eyes, she might be able to tell if he was in pain.
“Kevin, are you okay?” she whispered. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”
His breathing was a little raspy. Was that indicative of someone who was “fairly stable”? Annie had never done much research about medical trauma—in her books the victims were already dead. She supposed that was how she’d averted the shattering and squashing and the rest.
“Don’t be scared,” she repeated. “Don’t be scared.”
Then she gasped.Medical trauma. The only one she knew of who’d gone through such a thing was Meghan.
Meghan. Who was back at the Inn, packing or not packing to leave, not knowing that her husband had returned.
“I need a phone,” Annie pleaded with the EMT. “Can I use yours?”
“Sorry. It’s not for public use. We’ll be at the hospital spoon enough.” He was nice but not helpful. Meghan needed to know what had happened. And she needed to hear it from Annie, before someone else on the grounds of the Inn told her first. If anyone other than them had been on the grounds.
Leaning toward the closed window that connected the driver from the action in the back, Annie shouted, “Hello? Hello, up there? Can you hear me?”
“He can’t,” the EMT said. “He has to focus on the road.”
“But . . . can’t you ping him or something? Please?” She wanted to say that her brother’s wife needed to be told what had happened. But she was afraid if she said that much, everyone would find out the rest.
He shook his head. “Sorry,” he repeated, then checked the EKG again.
She didn’t know where they were, how far from the hospital. She couldn’t see out the back, as there were no windows. And though she squinted, she couldn’t see through the small window to the front seat and all the way out the windshield. It didn’t help that they were driving into the sunset.
So Annie bolted up, banging her head on the ceiling. Then she stooped and lunged toward the window, knocking on it with insistence. She’d moved so fast the EMT couldn’t thwart her.
“Help!” she shouted through the glass. “I need a phone!” Her eyes were fixed on the back of the driver’s head. Which made it all the more surprising when a man sitting on the passenger side suddenly turned and was eye to eye with her. It was John. Again.
Why the hell was John there? He was a cop, not an EMT.
He opened the window a couple of inches.
She shook off her surprise. “I need to make a call.”
“You don’t have your phone?”
That’s when she realized she didn’t even have her purse. What had she been thinking? Then she remembered she hadn’t been able to think. “No,” she replied.
“I can call someone for you. You want my dad?”
Dear God, no,Annie thought. She couldn’t very well tell Earl that the woman he knew as Mary Beth was really Kevin’s wife. Not now, anyway. Then she remembered that she’d told Francine. “Francine. I want Francine. Ask her to check on Mary Beth Mullen. Tell Francine what happened. And that I’ll be at the hospital with my brother.”
“Do you know her number?”
She did not. Damn cell phones, where links had erased the need to know details like that.
“You don’t want me to call my dad?”
“Not yet, okay?” How could she say she didn’t want Meghan to find out about Kevin from Earl. Francine knew the facts. Francine would know how to handle it. “I had plans with Mary Beth tonight,” she said. “I don’t want a guest to think I’ve stood her up.” It could have been the stupidest lie Annie had ever told. But it was all that came to mind. Meghan had to be told. Meghan had to know. If Kevin didn’t make it . . .
Annie started to cry. She slinked back to her seat and took Kevin’s hand in hers again. His palm was warm, callused from the manual labor that he worked at so hard. He looked a little tanned. Perhaps Hawaii had been good for him.
