Scared to Death. Debby Giusti

Kate smiled, waved and…

      Something jarred her. The door wrenched open. Hands touched her.

      “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

      A man pulled her from the car. Her head fell against his shoulder.

      “Hold on, honey.”

      Instinctively, she clung to him. “Eddie?”

      They were moving. Going through the water, but Kate felt nothing except the strength of his embrace. She wanted to drift to sleep in his arms.

      “Stay with me,” his voice warned.

      Suddenly, she was lying on the cold, hard ground. Rain pelted her face.

      She blinked her eyes open.

      Eddie hadn’t saved her. Someone else had.

      He dropped to the ground beside her and lifted her into his arms.

      “I know this hurts,” he said.

      She pushed her hands against his massive chest, but he drew her closer. “No!”

      She couldn’t move. With one hand, he held her tight against his body. With the other, he reached for something. A heavy wool coat wrapped over them, and he hunkered down under its protection.

      A siren wailed in the distance. Kate heard it, or thought she did. Only partially aware of the sound, she was totally aware of the man holding her close.

      Her eyes were heavy. She wanted to sleep, but his gentle voice urged her to stay with him.

      “Don’t leave me,” he said over and over again, as if they were a team working together to keep her alive.

      A chorus of voices broke through the night.

      “Over here,” he yelled. “North side of the creek.”

      Help was coming. But Kate didn’t want to leave the protection of his embrace.

      “What happened?”

      “She went off the bridge. Hypothermia. Keep her warm.”

      Blankets covered her. Kate felt their weight at the same time he pulled out of her grasp. She shivered, unable to control the spasmodic jerking of her muscles.

      “She’s in shock.”

      He touched her hand. “I’ll follow the ambulance to the clinic. Is there someone I can call? Maybe a relative?”

      She swallowed, tried to speak. Her voice came out a whisper, cracked. “Call Tina Esp—”

      He gasped. “Tina Espinosa?”

      Kate nodded.

      “Later.”

      She shook her head. “Now. Let Tina know I’m hurt. She’ll help me.”

      “Tell her, Price,” a voice demanded.

      Price? The man Tina worked for. Kate latched on to his arm and wouldn’t let go.

      Another voice chimed in from the foot of the stretcher. “Truth is, ma’am, Tina—”

      Sounds swirled around Kate. What had he said?

      “Hush!” Nolan glared at the person who had spoken.

      Kate gripped her rescuer’s hand even tighter. “What happened to Tina?”

      Nolan bent down, his face close to hers. Dark eyes, brow wrinkled with concern.

      “Tell me,” she pleaded.

      “I’m…I’m sorry,” he finally said. “They found her a few hours ago. Tina’s dead.”

      TWO

      Nolan Price would rather be anywhere than outside Mercy MedClinic’s emergency room. Hand him a financial portfolio to study or a corporate merger to broker and he was home free. But tubes pumping blood and oxygen into dying patients gave him the creeps.

      Maybe it was the memories. Eight months and the pain hadn’t gone away. He doubted it ever would.

      He glanced at his watch—10:00 p.m. Over three hours since he’d pulled the woman from the creek. Surely medical science, even in this rural facility, could determine the extent of her injuries in that length of time.

      Kate Murphy. He’d finally learned her name.

      Nolan shook his head. Too much had happened in one afternoon. The phone call about Tina, and then her friend had almost died in his arms.

      God had a strange sense of timing.

      Of course, he’d found that out with his wife’s tragic death.

      At least he still had Heather. Not that raising a fifteen-year-old single-handed was anything but tough. Every time he thought he was making headway, she retreated into her shell. He couldn’t relate to his daughter no matter how hard he tried. Or prayed.

      Maybe they should have stayed in Los Angeles.

      He sighed, then pulled his cell from his pocket, hit the home listing and listened as the phone rang and rang.

      The answering machine clicked on. “I’m sorry we’re unable to take your call. Please leave a message….”

      Why wouldn’t she answer?

      “Heather, I know you’re there. Pick up the phone.”

      No response.

      “I’m not mad.” Anymore, he wanted to add.

      If only Olivia were alive.

      “Make sure the doors to the house are locked, and don’t open for anyone. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

      Nolan snapped the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket as the sheriff pushed through the emergency-room doors. Early forties, tall and lanky, Wayne Turner was a pack-a-day smoker with a habit of poking his nose into everyone else’s business.

      “Doc said he’d be finished with her soon. Lady’s lucky. Tore one of her knee ligaments. That’s the extent of it ’cept for a few cuts and scrapes.”

      Nolan nodded. No reason to encourage Turner. Tonight of all nights, he didn’t feel like making conversation.

      “Must be quite a lady from what the EMTs said.” The sheriff stuck his chin in the air. “What’s your take?”

      “Last I saw, she was bone cold and struggling to survive. We didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries.”

      Turner shoved his hand in his pocket and rattled his change. “Lucky you found her. The way your house sits back from the road, no way you could have heard the crash. How’d you happen to be outside on a night like this?”

      A vision flashed through Nolan’s head—Heather’s boyfriend running through the woods.

      “I was on my way back from talking to Wade Green over at the funeral home about how to handle Tina’s arrangements,” Nolan said, purposely not mentioning the boy. “That’s when I saw the break in the bridge.”

      Turner sniffed. “Sorry about your housekeeper. Guess we owe you. Would have been two dead-on-arrivals if you hadn’t happened by in the nick of time.”

      Nolan leaned against the cold tile wall. He hadn’t thought of saving anyone when he’d raced after the boy. Then he’d seen the car, realized someone was trapped inside. Thankfully, he’d had his cell phone and the EMTs had answered his call for help or Turner’s statement might have proven true.

      The Good Lord supposedly didn’t give you more than you could handle. Heather was the problem. Tina had filled a portion of the void Olivia left. His daughter confided in the housekeeper, trusted her. Now that Tina was gone, Heather might withdraw even further from him.

      “Shame that housekeeper of yours had a flat on Old Man