“Not a chance, but thanks for the sentiment, Jessie. I’m glad to see you too.” Dawson joked, poking fun, lightening the mood.
Blake ended the playful banter with a declaration that left the room silent. “Okay, gang, we aren’t just looking at a fire, this started with the accident.”
***
All eyes were on Sam as she stared blankly, pale as can be, like she had seen a ghost. She began to shake her head and mumble gibberish, when Dawson moved back to her side.
“Sam? Honey? What’s going on? Lou, go grab the doctor, Evie?” Dawson asked, confused by her current state.
“No! No doctor! Headlights, I remember headlights,” she replied, adding confusion to an already perplexing situation.
“What headlights, girl. C’mon, help an ol’ lady out, tell me honey, what do you see? What do you remember?” Granny asked, somehow understanding Sam was remembering the accident.
She felt the blood drain from her face and a chill strike her core—it was fear. A shiver took over as it all began to play back, like a movie, a dark frightening movie, starring her. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, a clear picture emerged. She scanned the room, making eye contact with each of her friends, their surprise laced with concern when she relieved them of the suspense she held them all in. “It wasn’t an accident.”
CHAPTER 21
Her words added to the confusion, and questions of Sam’s mental state were clear with the passing looks amongst the group surrounding her. “Sam, Jess and Colton just told us that it was arson,” Everly delivered as gently as he could, trying not to further upset her, in fear it was some kind of break down.
Sam, unaware of just how obtuse her declaration was, gave Everly a what the fuck look, like she was the one not making sense. “The car wreck, the fire, Dawson’s tires, all the weird thing around the house—none of it was an accident!” Sam struggled to get through to her friends, wishing she could just play them the highlight reel dancing around in her head right now. “Even the night here, the pillow over my face. She was wrong, it wasn’t friggen PTSD or whatever. It was real, I remember the headlights…I remember that night!”
“Slow down Sam, start at the beginning for Blake and me, let’s figure this out,” Morgan patiently said, anxious to hear the details that just might give them the break they were hoping for.
“I knew that accident was connected, but Morgan and I couldn’t piece it together without your input; let’s put it together,” Blake offered.
Sam continued slowly, as if she was delivering an ordered story, as if she were hearing it for the first time herself, truth be told, she was. “You already know about the things happening around the house before the accident—lights on, TV’s on, water left running, doors unlocked, and even open. I thought I was losing my mind, distracted.”
She looked to Dawson, who sat a little taller, and gave her a proud grin. The thought that he caused her to act like a love struck schoolgirl did his ego some good. Their knowing exchange didn’t go unnoticed by their circle of friends, their chuckles, followed by a sigh, and a “for fuck’s sake” from Jessie, brought them back to present quickly. The mood quickly shifted as it became clear by the look on Sam’s sullen face that she was reliving her nightmare, frame by frame, as she shared her memories from the night she should have died.
“I was on my way to work, took the back road to avoid the rodeo chaos through town, like I always do. I remember seeing headlights show up in my mirror and wondering where they came from, there isn’t a road or house along that stretch for several miles.”
Blake chimed in, interrupting her story, pointing out a possible clue. “You take that road to work almost every day? He might have been waiting.”
“Like he had been watching me?” Eyes wide, Sam paused, while she let that thought settle in, someone had been watching her. “I feel sick, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Taking a minute to collect herself, she continued with a shaky voice and tattered patience. “I saw the lights, they were getting closer, fast. I thought it was a tourist or someone a little too fermented from the rodeo. I slowed a bit, pulled to the shoulder slightly, so they could pass. They pulled up right behind me and flashed their lights at me. I waved for him to pass, but he honked and bumped the back of my car. I didn’t know what to do, there was nowhere to go, I screamed as he pushed my bumper again…”
Lou Shaw, seeing her girl’s fear and anxiety brewing, sat beside her, held her hand, and rubbed her back with her free hand. Sam started losing composure, emotions overwhelming her as she recalled the events of that night. “It’s okay girl, you’re safe, honey, take your time.”
Sam looked down, trying to catch her breath and composure, wanting to share every scary detail as vivid, real, and frightening as they felt, she wanted it to be over. Meanwhile, Dawson felt a fury like never before, teeth clenched, face red, one hand holding Sam’s granting support and comfort, while the other rest in his lap in an angry hardened fist that he couldn’t wait to use.
She gave a smile, ever so slight, and found confidence in the strength he was shedding for her, and continued sharing. “After he hit me the second time, I sped up. I tried to get away, there was nowhere to go, so I just floored it hoping to get to town, or maybe lose him. I didn’t have my phone next to me, it was in my bag, in the back so I couldn’t call, I…” She paused to take a deep breath and remind herself where she was, and who she was surrounded by. All she wanted for weeks, was to remember, feel complete. Missing that event and the several weeks that followed, in a coma, left an eerie void that haunted her, but remembering left an eerie sense of fear. Reciting the series of events was like reliving every terrifying moment. She was recounting, reliving, and reconciling her emotions from that frightful night, all at once.
“Sam, what happened next, let us help you, tell us how to find him,” Colton replied eager to help his friend. Colton Sparks was a man’s man, a mighty fine one at that, but underneath all of that machismo, was a genuinely loyal man with a very loving heart. Sam didn’t doubt for one minute that he meant every word; he wanted to protect her too, and seek justice from whoever was behind this.
Sparks was a family guy, he wasn’t shy about his desire to find a girl, make her his, and have as many little Sparks as she would give him. Sam wanted that for him, and found his intensions and presence heartening.
With a thankful smile for Colton, Sam continued, “I had sped up, so he did. I swerved right to left so did he. I almost lost control, so I hit the brakes. I thought maybe I could turn around, I was closer to help if I went the other way, but I didn’t have to, he kept going.”
“If he kept goin', how’d you hit the tree, Sam?” Blake asked. He was a dear friend, but right now, he was investigating a crime and fishing for details, all business, so he and Jameson could resolve this for their friend. “How was this intentional, not an accident, if he drove off?”
Stuff like this just didn’t happen in their small mountain community, being an ex-army ranger or whatever he was, no one really knew, worked in Sam’s favor as he turned every last stone, peeled away every last layer, he wasn’t your typical rural Barney Fife. He felt that too familiar pang in his gut, they were close to finding answers, and that chill down his spine told him this was about to get bad, and very ugly. His instincts never failed him, he mentally prepared himself for the big, dark, reveal, and hoped it didn’t haunt him like his past.
“I sat on the roadside for a minute, collected myself,” Sam continued, bracing herself for what was coming, remembering her near death account. Her memory was flowing like a cool mountain spring, pushing its way to the forefront. She wished she didn’t have to remember her near end.
“I got back on the road headed here, and that’s when it happened. I was going faster than usual, I wanted out of there. I noticed oncoming headlights, but it was pretty dark at this point so I didn’t realize I…“ She was trying to push through the fear, to finish telling her story. She was struggling
, the memory so vivid, the terror so fresh, “…didn’t know it was that car, again, not until it was too late.”
“When he was just a short distance ahead of me he switched to my lane, head on. That’s when I realized it was him, it was that car again. It stunned me at first, then I reacted, last minute, I saw nothing but bright lights, and I swerved. I was going so fast that must have been when I hit the tree.” She finished, searching the room, not sure what she was searching for, questions, concern, maybe even judgment. “I remember a scream, a loud, haunting scream. It must have been me, the scream was from me. That’s all I remember, until I woke up, here.”
***
Emotions ran high as the group of professionals surrounding a victim of a crime, struggled to maintain composure as her friends. The horror of the crash scene, now relived and brought to life, was now darker tainted with an eerie state of terror and unknowns. Hurting for their friend and loved one, motivation brewed and an eager willingness to vindicate same became the shift in emotion around the room, especially for Dawson.
The idea of this person carefully and calculating each move, watching her, targeting her, drew out the most primal, protective instinct he had experienced or even knew he possessed. God help whoever this animal is, if he should cross Dawson’s path first.
***
Blake burst back into the hospital room, after taking a call. The look on his face was one of determination and duty, he knew something, was this the break they had been waiting for? Each were focused on him as they all stood at attention, ready to react to whatever Blake had to share, except Sam; unease showered her as an anxious vibe tuned her into what was likely going to be the worst day of her life. She all but panicked at the idea that Blake had her attackers name written on the pad he palmed.
“What is it, Coop, what do you have, I know that look.” Asked a bright-eyed Morgan, reading her partner like a book.
“Sam, what can you tell me about the vehicle the night of the crash?” Blake quickly questioned, all attention shifting to Sam, hopeful she had the answer he was looking for.
She looked down as if sorting through the memories to find the answer he needed. “It was dark, maybe black or charcoal?” Struggling to recall the finer details that she hadn’t yet reconciled, she continued, “The windows…they were dark, I couldn’t see inside. It was some sort of small SUV.”
“That’s good. Can you remember anything that marked the vehicle, like a bumper sticker, something on the antenna, or hanging from the rearview mirror?”
“I can’t, I guess I didn’t really think to look for anything like that, I’m sorry, Blake,” Sam concluded, words full of defeat.
Blake searched his notes, frustration evident, as he searched for the link in Sam’s accounting of that night and what he discovered. “Well, that doesn’t make any fricken sense, I thought this was it, damn!”
“You thought what was it, what did you find, Coop? Maybe it’ll make sense to one of us,” Jessie replied, determined to help solve the mystery, and without a single curse word or insult, shit just got real.
Blake turned to Dawson and questioned him, in order to bring light to the situation. “Remember when you were down at the house, you asked about Rene?”
Dawson nodded, eager to hear what Blake uncovered. There wasn’t any reason to suspect Rene of anything, except that chill that made the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention, and the familiarity everyone experienced with her, but couldn’t put their finger on.
“After we left Sam’s, I looked into her like you asked. I felt that same unease, not sure why, but was unsettled by it,” Blake admitted. “It took some digging, but this is what I found. It doesn’t explain things today, but definitely worth taking the next step and digging deeper, maybe.”
“Out with it Coop, what the hell did you find, Jesus!” Jessie said what everyone else was thinking, enough with the vague chatter, get to the point.
“Rene Garcia isn’t from here, as you already know, but we all have crossed paths with her before as Rene Torres.” Mystery flooded Blake’s words, while patience ran thin. How did each of them cross paths with her before, on the edge of their seats, they listened, hanging on every word. “Do you remember that landslide last summer, after that odd storm we had? Took out Highway 30?”
“Oh, where that log truck took the hit, jack knifed, lost his load, and wiped out a shit load of cars?” Jessie, even with sensitive issues, lacked a sensitive filter, but although crass, her callous depiction brought the events to the forefront of everyone’s minds. Nobody would or could for that matter, forget that disastrous day. It was the worst any of them, or the town, had witnessed, such a colossal tragedy.
CHAPTER 22
It was mid-summer, the peak of tourist season, and they had just been cloaked in an unusual, unseasonal, summer rain. The freak storm led to a freak accident that haunted each of them any time they passed the site. The intense, high amount of rain shifted the soil, loosening the rocky embankment that lined the highway. When nature gave way, that embankment was cast across the highway, right in front of a fully loaded log truck, causing a grisly accident.
Coming around a curve in the road, the fully loaded log truck was unable to stop in time, the driver lost control of his vehicle and trailer, jack knifing across the multiple lanes, mowing down both sides of the packed highway, before coming to a halt. When the dust settled, it was like a scene of Armageddon—wrecked cars scattered everywhere, injuries galore, some that looked like ghastly fallout from the latest horror flick, people were trapped, and some even dead.
Sam had been in the traffic just behind the accident, along with Everly, Gran, and Ellie. They had been on their way back from a girls’ weekend in the city, when Evie heard the call for Rescue and realized it was the reason they were stopped on the highway that wasn’t supposed to stop. Sam jumped out with Evie, assuming she could help, leaving Ellie with Granny.
The ladies ran ahead not realizing just how close they had been, when they rounded the bend, hardly a quarter mile from where their car sat idle, and they came upon the horrendous scene. Shocked by the vision before them, they gave each other a look of relief, grateful for that last minute impromptu ice cream stop for fairy sprinkles for Ellie Lou.
They were first on scene, could hear the sirens in the distance, but knew they were going to need more than the help being sent, and the trouble they would have getting through the tangled metal, rock, mud, and log filled debris. Unless you saw the scene first hand, there is no way a dispatcher would know just how much help to send; it was a war zone, and they needed more troops. Evie called in for more help—all hands on deck.
Getting a jump on rescue efforts while waiting for help, Sam and Evie tag teamed the vehicles they could reach using the only thing they had, lipstick, to mark the windshields indicating what was inside, prioritizing and delegating the care needed—lipstick triage. The Xs on the windshields were becoming more and more, converting the highway to a gruesome graveyard.
They had nearly reached the other side of the plethora of wrecked cars when reinforcements finally arrived, scattering themselves amongst the rubble, guided by Lolita and Cathedral colored Sephora lipstick adorned windshields. A startling spine chilling scream was followed by a deep husky male voice that called Sam’s name, summoning her attention and perked her unsettled emotions to new levels when the reality before her settled in.
A small SUV, or large car, too damaged to identify, sat crumpled near a collection of lost logs and fallen rocks. It was the vehicle immediately following the initial chaos and clearly the first impact, given the insanely gnarled picture before her. Another scream pulled Sam’s focus back, when she made eye contact with Dawson, anxiously waiting for her to take in the sight, regroup, and come to his aide.
“Sam, I need your help with this one,” Dawson hollered, as she ran to assist him. “They are cutting her out from behind so we can ease her out.”
Another scream and her first look at their patient rev
ealed everything Sam needed to know, and why she was needed. “How far along?”
“Twenty-seven weeks,” he quickly replied.
“Where do you need me?” Sam asked, adrenaline taking over, as she transitioned from shock to determined.
Dawson put her hand over the victim’s leg, where his had been, to stop a major bleed, likely a damaged artery, making this a critical rescue. It was unclear how much of the blood was from her patient. Her wounds clearly massive, but much of it had to be from the driver of the vehicle, next to her, who had been impaled with some sort of object, perhaps a crowbar or the like, inevitably from the log truck before them. Sam’s attention was quickly returned to her patient as she hoped and prayed that the pool of blood in her lap was not a sign the pregnancy was in danger too. A gruesome scene, full of fear and tragedy, and they were just beginning.
Sam spoke to her, tried to calm her, tried to stop the bleeding, while the team was getting close to extraction, but the screams were more frequent, and it became clear that this baby was in danger, and the cause for these haunting sounds. As Rescue gingerly pulled her from the wreckage, Sam stayed with her, straddling her at one point, until they cleared the mess and made way to the waiting ambulance.
“Alex! Alex!” Screamed the patient, reaching for the deceased man still in the car. “Please don’t leave me, don’t leave us! Please help him! Alex!”
Alex was dead. Their patient was in shock, unable to realize what was obvious to even the untrained eye, his injury was too traumatic, likely claiming him instantly. This woman had witnessed his death, first hand, watched him take his last breath.
They were about fifteen minutes from town, twenty minutes from the hospital, but it felt like much longer. Sam did all she could to keep her patient calm and awake, not an easy task, as emotions ran high for obvious reasons. Dawson made his way around the patient, starting her IV and doing what he could while Carigan drove them in.
Rescued (A McKenzie Ridge Novel Book 1) Page 17
