“Speed limit. He wasn’t a leadfoot.”
The cop nodded. “Been drinking?”
“No!”
The paramedic turned to grab the door handle. “You’ll have to get more later, Officer. At the hospital.”
“Wait!” Casey said. “The truck. Where will it go?”
The cop looked back at the mangled cab. “Won’t be going anywhere for a while, but when it does…I don’t know. Shop, maybe? Closest one’s a few miles down the road. The way it’s looking, though…it’s probably headed for the junk yard.”
“What about those men?”
“What men?”
“The ones talking at the back of the truck, when the paramedics got out of the cab.”
The cop pointed his pen at the paramedic. “You know who she’s talking about?”
He nodded. “Couple of guys were in the truck, administering CPR. Don’t know who they were.”
Casey tried to sit up, but was held down by the straps. She strained her neck as far as she could. The men weren’t at the back of the truck anymore. She couldn’t see them anywhere. “You have to find them. They know something.”
“Nothing to know, ma’am. It was an accident.”
“An accident involving vehicles parked across the road. Why were they there?”
He looked at her. “There’s all kind of construction going on—”
“Where are the workers?”
He paused. “I don’t know.”
Casey’s head swam, and she dropped it back onto the gurney.
“We gotta go,” the paramedic said.
“No!” Casey said. “Wait!”
But the cop stepped back and closed the door. Casey raised her head high enough to see out the back window, just in time to see Death walking in the opposite direction, carrying Evan’s spirit like a baby.
Chapter Two
“Name?”
“Casey Jones.”
The young admissions clerk scribbled on her clipboard and cracked her gum. “ID?”
“Don’t have any.”
That made the girl look up. “You don’t have any
Should Casey give her the whole story? How she’d left it hidden in a garage back in Ohio, hanging with the rest of her earthly belongings? Her wedding ring, Omar’s baby cap, her
“My wallet got stolen,” Casey said. “I don’t have anything.”
“Well…” The girl chewed her gum harder, as if it helped her to think. “We need to have information. Address. Insurance. You know.”
“Sure. Leave the paper with me, and I’ll fill it out the best I can.”
“You have a phone, at least? So you can call somebody?” The girl looked hopeful.
“No.”
“Oh. Well.” The clerk floundered in a tight half-circle, her feet shuffling on the tile floor.
“You do have phones here at the hospital?”
“Phones? Here? Oh, I see. Yeah, you can use one of those, I guess.”
Casey took a deep, calming breath. “I’ll fill out what I can, and then find a phone. Okay?”
The girl held out the clipboard, then took it back, then held it out again. “I’m really supposed to fill it out myself. From the ID.”
Casey snagged the clipboard, yanking it from the clerk’s hand. “I’ll do it.”
“Well—”
“So, what have we here?” A doctor in a white coat flapped through the dividing curtain, beaming at Casey from more beard and mustache than Casey thought should be allowed on a medical professional.
“Doctor Shinnob,” he boomed. “At your service.”
The clerk took the opportunity to scuttle away, casting a worried glance back toward Casey. Casey smiled wearily and held up the clipboard, nodding to the girl in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion.
A petite, dark-skinned nurse dressed in lavender scrubs with cats on them stood slightly behind the doctor. She scribbled on yet another chart. “Name?”
“Casey Jones.”
“Birthdate?”
Casey made one up.
“Social security number?”
Casey rattled off nine non-sequential numbers.
“Done, are we, then, Felicia?” The doctor held out his hands.
The nurse frowned, crossing her arms over her paperwork and holding it against her chest.
“So, you were in a little accident, were you?” The doctor lifted Casey’s chin and shone a flashlight in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about that.”
“The driver—”
“Got the worst of it. Yes, I’m sorry about that, too. Did you know him well?”
“No, not all that well.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d just met Evan that morning, when she’d desperately hitched a ride.
“I see.” He flicked the light away, and then back. “How’s your vision?”
“Blurry.”
“What I thought. I’m afraid you have a concussion, my dear.” He rubbed his fingers together beside her right ear. “Can you hear that?”
“Yes.”
“And that?” Her left ear.
She nodded.
“Good, good. Now, breathe in and out deeply, mouth open, please.” She obliged, and he nodded, pursing his lips as he listened to her back through his stethoscope. He moved the instrument to her chest, listening to her heart. “Good. Can you lie down now, please?” He pushed gently on her stomach. “Does that hurt when I do this? Or this? No? That’s good, that’s good.” He smiled at the nurse, who gave him a stare right back. He leaned toward Casey. “Don’t worry about Felicia. Trauma makes her grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy.” Felicia’s voice sounded brittle.
“Whatever you say, whatever you say.” The doctor winked at Casey. “Now, you tell me if anything hurts.” He felt her from top to bottom—her arms, her ribs, her legs. Nothing hurt, except for the cut on her arm. She tried not to show it, but he noticed anyway. “Tell me about this injury. That’s not from the accident.” He peered at her above the rims of his glasses.
“Got cut yesterday. I tried to fix it up.”
“Didn’t do a very good job of it, did you?” He clicked his tongue. “Felicia, how about some antiseptic wash?”
Between Dr. Shinnob and Felicia they cleaned out the cut and covered it with sterile gauze and an Ace bandage. Casey did her best not to scream at the pain.
“I can’t stitch it,” Dr. Shinnob said. “It’s too swollen, and the tissues have already begun to heal themselves. I’m afraid you’ll have a scar there, as a reminder of whatever you did.”
