She angled the rearview mirror so she could see more of the back seat. In the dim light, she could make out two shadowed lumps on the back seat, but she couldn't tell who was who.
She started to cry.
Something rustled behind her.
"Mom?"
It was the barest of whispers, but she heard it. "Colton?"
"What happened?"
"We were in an accident." She hoped she sounded brave and calm. "Can you see your sister?"
"No, but I feel her. She's―" Colton gasped.
Oh God…Ella's hurt. "What? What's wrong?"
"It's wet back here, Mom. On the seat." He sounded dazed, scared.
"Maybe your drink spilled."
She had to get her children out of the car. Now!
"Mom, you need to call 911."
"I know, Colton." She closed her eyes, trying to remember whether she'd put the cell phone in her purse or if it had been in the cup holder. Had she used it while they'd been on the road? No, she was sure she hadn't.
Her gaze swept across the front seat and down to the passenger seat floor, where her purse lay, some of the contents scattered about like pieces of shrapnel. "I think my phone's in my purse, on the floor."
"Can you get it?"
She reached out, ignoring the shooting pain in her fingers. After a few tries, she gave up.
Ella let out a whimper.
"Ella? Are you awake, sweetie?"
No answer.
"Colton, check your sister again."
A few seconds later Colton said, "I think she's bleeding."
"Where?"
"Her face."
Rebecca muffled a cry with her good hand. "Wake her up. Right now."
"Ella," Colton said, his voice breaking. "Ella, wake up."
"Ella, honey," Rebecca called. "Wake up, please."
"She won't wake up, Mom."
"Okay, as long as she's breathing, she's fine. Do you know where Puff is?"
Colton rummaged around in the back seat for a few minutes, long enough for Rebecca to start panicking again. If Ella woke up and realized what was going on, she'd have a major asthma attack. They needed that inhaler.
"Found it, Mom."
She blew out a pent-up breath. "Keep it in your pocket."
"Now what do we do?"
"Can you climb into the front seat?"
"I'll try."
She could hear her son moving, the seat belt releasing, then a sharp yelp.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"My leg's stuck. I can't get it out from under my hockey bag because the seat in front is pushing on it."
She surveyed the front passenger seat. It had shifted, slid back toward Colton. At some point during the rough ride, his hockey bag had slid toward the back door, lodging between the front passenger seat and his legs, trapping his right foot beneath it. There was no way she'd be able to reach the lever to move it forward and release Colton.
Dizziness rolled like a wave over her body. She couldn't help the small moan that escaped her lips.
"Mom, are you okay?"
"I'm a bit sore, but don't worry about me."
"We have water at least," Colton muttered. "I saw on a survival show that we have to have water or we'll die—"
"We're not going to die, Colton."
"—so we have to ration the water bottles until we're rescued," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted.
She wondered if he was going into shock. "We can do that, honey. Ration the water."
"And any food."
"Okay. Now let me think for a minute."
She was pinned behind the steering wheel with possible broken ribs and a useless hand. Colton couldn't move because his leg was trapped. Ella was unconscious, maybe with a concussion. And Rebecca's cell phone was either in her purse on the floor or somewhere else in the car.
The phone was their only answer. She had to find a way to get it. But how? She would need something long, something she could hook her purse with.
The hockey stick!
"Colton, can you reach your hockey stick?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Pass it to me."
She had to take the stick with her injured hand and gasped at the agony this caused. Stretching her left arm over the steering wheel, she transferred the stick to her good hand and stretched as far as possible, ignoring the throbbing in her ribs. The tip of the stick rested on her purse.
"You can do it, Mom," Colton said.
She hoped to God he was right.
Another wave of faintness swept over her. Her head felt thick, and the hand holding the hockey stick shook. How long could she hold out before she passed out?
The purse slid inches closer. She prodded the handle, attempting to slide the tip of the stick underneath. "Got it!"
From the back seat, Colton let out a relieved breath. "Careful not to drop it."
She pulled the purse up from the floor and over the passenger seat. With a deep breath, she reached out with her other hand. "Damn." She couldn't reach the purse. The window blocked the other end of the hockey stick, and there was no way she could maneuver it enough. "I can't reach my purse."
"Hold the stick up more so your purse can slide down it."
She smiled. "You're a genius, Colton."
There was hardly enough room in the front for Rebecca to hold the stick out and tip the end up. With a few light flicks of her wrist, the purse began to slide down the stick. When it was close enough, she switched hands and slipped the purse off the stick.
"Got it." She let out an exhausted sigh.
Since she was pinned by the steering wheel, she had to change hands again, although her right hand was numb. With her good hand, she opened the zipper and reached inside. She felt her bank book, credit card holder, lipstick tubes. Come on. Where's my phone?
"Check on your sister again," she said, wanting to keep him busy.
She shoved her hand deeper into her purse. No cell phone.
When she was sure she'd checked every inch of the purse, she muffled a small cry. Where was her phone?
She swallowed hard. "My phone's not in my purse. It must be on the floor somewhere. I'll check up front, and you try to wake Ella so you can give her Puff."
While Colton called his sister's name, she leaned forward as far as she could. On the floor of the passenger seat was an assortment of empty bank envelopes and a notebook. She grabbed the hockey stick and poked at the envelopes. Nothing underneath them. She pushed aside the notebook. Her cell phone lay underneath.
"Found it."
"Mom, Ella's wheezy, and she's still sleeping."
"Try to give her a puff anyway."
She wasn't sure that would do much since Ella wouldn't be inhaling the medication like normal, but they had to do something to keep her breathing under control.
She tried to ease the tip of the hockey stick beneath the phone, but it only pushed the phone farther away. What she needed was something tacky.
She stared at the tape wrapped around the blade of the hockey stick. It was something the players did to give the blade extra support. Something Wesley had shown Colton. One of his good fatherly deeds.
"Colton, where's your hockey tape?"
"I had it." A few seconds went by before he shouted, "Found it!"
"I'm going to hold your hockey stick out toward you, and I want you to put some tape on the end. But as you wind it, twist it so the sticky part is facing out. Understand?"
"No problem, Mom."
She maneuvered the stick toward him once more. Minutes later, the task was completed and she drew the stick back and over the passenger seat. Then she carefully held it out so the tip of the blade hovered over the floor of the passenger seat.
Her vision swam and she paused. Please, God, not now.
"Did you get it?" Colton asked.
"Not yet."
A few more inches and the stick made contact with the phone. Now all she had to do was navigate it so the sticky part of the tape wou
ld rest on the cell phone.
"Almost got it. There!"
With the phone securely stuck to the tape, she rolled the stick slowly until the phone rested on top of the blade. "I've got it, but I can't reach it because the stick's too long, so I'm going to pass it to you."
She took slow, even breaths as she moved. Her hand vibrated as she raised the stick over the passenger seat and then aimed it at her son.
"That's good, Mom." Colton grabbed the phone and peeled it from the tape.
"Give the phone to me."
She stretched out as far as possible, and Colton did the same. Her fingers just grazed the cell phone in his hand, and she bit her bottom lip when it bumped her swollen fingers. "Got it."
As soon as the phone was in her hand, she flipped it open, praying it wasn't damaged in the crash. The screen lit up as a surge of dizziness sizzled through her body. Transferring the cell phone to her good hand, she thumb-dialed 911.
"Nine one one," a warm male voice said. "Do you need Fire, Ambulance or Police?"
Rebecca opened her mouth to answer and gasped in agony.
Then she blacked out.
Chapter Thirteen
Edson, AB – Friday, June 14, 2013 – 11:10 PM
Marcus was deep into the eBook on somniphobia when the phone rang. "Nine one one," he said. "Do you need Fire, Police or Ambulance?"
A pitter-patter medley was followed by a soft whimper. Then the line went dead. What the hell?
"We've got a dead line," he called to Leo, giving him the cell phone number.
Leo immediately went into action, activating the number search and tracking. "It's a cell phone registered to a…Rebecca Kingston, 1832-12th Street, Edmonton. I'm calling the house number now." Pause. "No answer."
Marcus called the cell phone. "No answer on her cell either."
"The home address is registered to a Mr. and Mrs. Wesley Kingston," Leo said. "Wait! Here we are. A tower outside Edson picked up her last call."
"Not a very nice night for travelling." Marcus tried the number again. "She's not picking up, and I don't think this is a crank call. Dispatch police and EMS to the tower area. Maybe they'll see her vehicle. I'll keep trying her cell phone."
"Done."
Marcus swallowed hard. These were the calls he hated. Someone out there needed help, but without a location everyone was blind. He prayed Rebecca Kingston needed minor assistance.
He called the cell phone again. No one picked up.
"Marcus, we have another problem." Leo's voice was grim.
"What?"
"Police are sending a squad car to the highway, but EMS and Fire have no available vehicles. They're still working that apartment fire in Hinton."
"Shit."
"Maybe the Kingston lady ran out of gas."
"Let's hope."
He dialed again. One ring…two rings…three—
"Hello?" a woman said in a faint voice.
Marcus stood up and snapped his fingers at Leo. "Mrs. Kingston? Rebecca Kingston? This is 911. You called us a few minutes—"
"Car accident," came the reply.
"Where are you?"
"I'm not sure exactly." The woman started crying.
"Okay, Mrs. Kingston, take a breath. We're going to help you."
"Rebecca," she said. "Call me Rebecca."
"Okay, Rebecca. Here's what I need. I need you to tell me how many people are in your vehicle."
"Three. Me and my son and daughter."
"Is everyone okay?"
He heard another sob. "No. Colton's leg is trapped. I don't know if it's broken. He says he's not in pain. He's in the back seat. Ella too. She's unconscious and won't wake up. She has asthma."
"We have police heading to your area, so hold on. Can you or your son get out of the car?"
"No. My door won't open. And Colton has the door that sticks in the back."
"Were you hit on your side of the car?"
"I don't think so. I recall hearing a grinding sound though. Like my door had crashed against something. I think that's why I can't open it."
"Can you get to the passenger door?"
"No. I'm pinned between my seat and the steering wheel." She lowered her voice. "I have two broken fingers on my right hand and I think a couple of my ribs are broken."
Marcus swore beneath his breath. Broken ribs could lead to a punctured lung. "Can you move the seat back?"
"No. I can't reach the lever. And the one on the side is broken, so I can't tip the seat back."
"Did the airbags inflate?"
"No. We were hit from behind."
"What kind of vehicle do you have?"
"A red Hyundai Accent."
"Four-door sedan?"
"Yes."
"Power door locks and windows?"
"Yes."
He took down all the information and relayed it to police dispatch.
"I want you to take small breaths and don't drop the phone. Do you have an inhaler for your daughter?"
"Yes, Colton gave it to her, but she's still not moving, not waking up. I don't know what to do."
"It's important you remain as composed as possible, Rebecca. You need to stay calm for your children. Okay?"
"Okay."
"I need more information. Can you tell me where you were heading?"
"Cadomin. I needed a vacation."
He could hear self-recrimination in her voice. "I'm sure this isn't the vacation you planned. Now how close to Cadomin were you before the car accident."
"I don't know. It's all a blur."
He shook his head. They had one tower to go by. That left a lot of ground to cover.
"Were any other vehicles involved in the accident?"
"It wasn't an accident," Rebecca whispered.
Marcus flinched. "What do you mean?"
"We were intentionally run off the road. By someone in a truck."
A chill swept down his spine. "You sure he didn't hit you by accident?"
"I'm sure." There was a long pause. "He was behind us for at least twenty minutes. Right on my bumper. There was lots of room for him to pass, but he didn't." Sob. "I don't understand why he did this to us."
"Is he gone?"
"I think so. I can't see anything outside. It's raining hard, but I can't see his lights."
Marcus motioned to Leo. "Hit and run." To Rebecca he said, "Can you give me a description of the truck?"
"It was a dark color and had lights on the top of the roof. Really bright ones."
"Hunters' spotlights? On top of the cab?"
"Yes, I think so."
"How many lights?"
"I don't know. It was so bright I couldn't tell."
He heard a child call out, "Mom, Ella feels cold."
"Is she wearing her jacket?" Rebecca asked, the terror in her voice apparent.
"No. It's on the floor in front of her and I can't reach it," came the boy's reply. "I'll give her mine."
"It's important you keep Ella warm," Marcus said. The girl could be going into shock. "Turn the heat on and your headlights and emergency lights. And whatever you do, try to get Ella's temperature up."
"I understand. Colton, if you can reach your backpack, tuck your jersey around Ella."
"Good," Marcus said. "We have police looking for your vehicle. It shouldn't take them long to search Highway 47 between the towers."
Another sob. "But we're not on the highway."
Marcus's pulse raced. "I thought you said you were heading to Cadomin."
"We were. But when the guy in the truck started following too close, I pulled off onto a side road. I thought he'd drive past us. Then we could get back on the highway. But he didn't. He turned down the same road. Initially I thought it was just sheer bad luck, that he was the property owner. But then he hit us—a bump at first. Then he hit us hard." She lowered her voice. "That's when I knew he wanted to hurt us."
"Was there a sign for the road you turned down?"
"No. Nothing. It's a dirt road, grave
l maybe."
Marcus flagged down Leo again. "They turned down a side road."
"Shit," Leo said. "There are quite a few turnoffs between the tower and Cadomin, and some before that."
"Rebecca, do you have a GPS system in your vehicle?"
"No."
"What about your cell phone?"
"It's old. No apps, no GPS."
"Okay." He paused, thinking hard. "How far down the road did you drive?"
"I'm not sure. I was terrified. I couldn't see where I was going. Then we got into the trees, and I could barely even see the road. I think I drove a few minutes, maybe ten."
Marcus let out another curse.
"What?" Leo asked.
Marcus muffled the microphone so Rebecca wouldn't hear. "Police won't see her from the highway. She's ten or fifteen minutes in."
"Good God, without a helicopter, they'll have to go down every road to find her."
Marcus nodded. And by the time they did, it could be too late.
"I'm feeling really dizzy," Rebecca whispered. "I'm not sure how long I can stay alert."
"Listen to my voice, and keep taking small, even breaths," he said. "Rebecca, I need you to check your phone and tell me how strong the charge is."
"Oh God…" Pause. When she came back, her voice was hoarse. "I have one bar left. Why didn't I charge it before we left? How stupid could I be?"
"Rebecca—"
"I thought I'd do it when we reached the hotel. I don't even have the charger on me. It's in my suitcase. And that's in the trunk. And the car charger is in the glove box, which I can't reach."
"What about your kids? Do either of them have a phone?"
"No." Sob. "I told Wesley they didn't need cell phones."
He knew she was blaming herself. "None of this is your fault, Rebecca. Besides, one bar is good. That's still a lot." He hoped to God he was right.
"But what if you can't find us? What if my phone dies?"
"We'll find you before that happens."
"Do you promise?"
Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat as he flashed on Jane's face. "I promise. We'll find you. We're also trying to locate your husband. I'm going to patch you through to Detective John Zur from the Edson Police Department now."
"I don't want you to hang up." Soft sobs drifted in from the other end. "You're all we have right now."
"I'll call you again in five minutes. And then every five to ten minutes after that until you're found."
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