“Where are they taking her?” he demanded.
The traffic cop looked up from the pad on which he was writing. “Most likely Providence. It’s the closest.”
“Can you find out for sure?”
“No.” He seemed agitated that Sam would interrupt his questioning.
“Then I’m following the medics. She’s new in town and only knows a few people.” He wasn’t sure where this protective attitude was coming from, but it consumed him. For whatever reason, he felt it was important that Beth not be alone. Conscious or not.
“Is there someone you can call for her? A relative? A friend?”
Of course. Nichole. He hadn’t thought of her until that very moment. He reached for his phone and hit the number for Rocco. His friend picked up on the third ring.
“Okay, Sam, I know what you’re going to say—”
“There’s been a car accident,” he said, cutting off the other man. “Beth is badly injured. I saw the whole thing.”
“What?” Rocco asked, seemingly stunned.
“Beth was in a car accident,” he repeated. “Some kid was on her phone and ran the red light, slamming into Beth, hitting her broadside. She’s hurt, Rocco, badly. She’s being rushed to the hospital … cop thinks Providence.”
Rocco didn’t answer him and then his friend shouted for Nichole. He heard the urgency, and Nichole must have, too, because Sam heard her ask, “What is it?” This was followed with a few short, sharp sentences as Rocco repeated what Sam had just told him.
They, too, had a short discussion. “We’re going to the hospital. Nichole is contacting Leanne to see if she can come stay with the kids. We’ll get there as quickly as we can.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Sam said, his voice filled with resolve.
Rocco hesitated. “You sure you want to do that? You barely know Beth.”
“Yes,” he shouted, hardly understanding it himself. “I’ll see you soon.” With that, he disconnected the line.
The investigating officer held him up for an additional twenty minutes, with repeated questions that put Sam on edge. He’d already told the officer everything he knew. For reasons he would be hard pressed to explain, he felt this compelling need to get to Beth. At this rate Rocco and Nichole would make it to the hospital before he did.
When he was finally able to break free, he raced to the medical facility, driving ten miles above the speed limit. If he wasn’t careful he’d be in an accident himself. Parking wasn’t convenient and he ended up in the garage on the sixth floor. By the time he made it to the emergency room waiting area, he was breathless.
He didn’t see Rocco or Nichole, so he hurried to the front desk, hungry for information.
“I’m here to find out about the car accident victim? She was brought in no more than thirty minutes ago.”
The woman whose name tag identified her as Susan McNeil asked, “Name?”
“Sam Carney.” As soon as he spoke he realized she was asking about Beth. “Sorry. I’m Sam. The woman who was brought here by paramedics—the victim of a car crash—her name is Beth.”
“Last name?” she asked, punching a few computer keys. When he didn’t immediately answer, the nurse glanced up.
Sam was no help. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. Nichole had mentioned it when she made the introduction but it was completely out of his mind now. Fact was, Sam hadn’t paid that much attention. He didn’t expect he would ever see her again. “Sorry, I don’t know.”
“You’re not a relative?”
“No.” That much should be obvious. This was like talking to the police officer all over again. He got little information while he was repeatedly asked questions he found difficult to answer.
The sliding glass doors leading in from the outside opened and both Rocco and Nichole came rushing into the waiting area. They immediately joined Sam at the front desk.
“She’s asking for Beth’s last name,” Sam said.
Nichole supplied it.
“Are you a relative?” Susan McNeil asked.
“No, I’m a friend.”
Susan nodded. “Do you have the contact information for any relatives?”
“No, sorry. Beth is going to be all right, isn’t she?” Nichole’s voice trembled with concern.
“Sorry, I’m not allowed to give out information,” Susan said.
“Beth was just at our home for dinner. She left about forty-five minutes ago.” Nichole was visibly upset. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
Sam felt unsettled as well. Witnessing the accident had shaken him. When he’d left dinner, he hadn’t had feelings toward Beth one way or another. She seemed nice. Nothing special, but pleasant.
He’d gotten her message and she’d gotten his. As soon as he realized she’d been finagled into this the same as him, he’d relaxed. They’d both been in a rush to escape, nearly knocking each other over in their eagerness to get out the door. He’d smiled about it at the time, but he found little amusing at the moment.
“Beth hasn’t lived in Portland long,” Nichole was explaining to the woman at the desk, breaking into Sam’s musings.
The hospital employee made a notation in the computer.
“I know she has an aunt living in the area,” Nichole supplied. “Her family all lives in Chicago.”
“Do you happen to know the aunt’s name?”
Nichole exhaled as if rummaging through the filter in her brain. “I believe it’s Sunshine.”
Susan McNeil glanced up and narrowed her gaze. “Sunshine is her given name?”
“I … don’t know, but probably not.”
The questions continued, with Nichole answering as best she could. One thing was clear, the three of them were the only ones waiting for word on Beth’s condition.
Once the hospital had collected as much information as they could from Nichole, the woman manning the desk said, “If you’d like to wait, I’ll let you know about your friend as soon as any news is available.”
“Thank you,” Nichole whispered and turned away from the desk.
Rocco and Sam followed her into the crowded waiting area. They were fortunate to find three seats in close proximity. Rocco and Nichole sat together and Sam took the chair across from them.
As soon as they were seated, Nichole leaned forward. “Tell us what happened.”
Sam relayed the details once again.
“How badly injured was she?” This came from Rocco.
“Bad. My guess is she has fractured ribs, and I suspect her hip is broken as well. I heard the paramedics mention a collapsed lung.”
“Internal damage?” Rocco asked.
Sam nodded. “It’s possible.”
Nichole released a soft gasp. “She’s going to live, isn’t she?”
Sam didn’t feel qualified to answer. “I can’t say.”
“Was she conscious?”
“Partly. I spoke to her, but I don’t know if she heard me or not. She was in a great deal of pain. I could see she was going into shock. I was the one who called for help.”
“Did she say anything?” Rocco asked.
“No.” All Sam could think about was the way she’d locked her eyes with his as if holding on to him, as if he would be the one to pull her through this crisis. In thinking about it, Beth had remained remarkably calm. Sam wasn’t sure he would have reacted the same.
When they first sat down, Rocco and Nichole had been full of questions. As time wore on the conversation dwindled until there was nothing left to say.
An hour passed. Rocco bought them coffee out of a machine. Sam took a sip, grimaced, and let the rest grow cold.
He didn’t know why it was taking this long. He got up to stretch his legs and strolled past the front desk. Susan McNeil glanced at him and gave a gentle shake of her head as if to answer his unspoken question. She had nothing to tell him.
When he returned to his seat, Rocco studied him as if he had something to say. If that was the case, it went unsaid.
Sometime later, Sam glanced at the time. It’d been almost two hours since the accident.