Under Suspicion

sob choked my words. They settled in the back of my throat like a solid lump. I tried to swallow, tried to steady myself, tried to get myself to move.

“The guy took off!” I heard someone yell.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Will seemed to leap over the table. He gripped my arm and pulled me with him out the double doors. I think I heard him yell, “Stand back!” and “I’m an EMT!” but I felt like I had cotton in my ears—everything sounded muffled and strange.

I know I felt the cement scuffle underneath my shoes, once we made it outside. I know I felt the sting of the cold air on my exposed skin, felt chilled drops of water prick my scalp and dribble down the back of my bare neck.

“Did anyone see who it was?” a stout man in a shin-length trench coat asked the crowd.

“Does anyone know what happened?”

I looked around blankly. The slow movement, the muffled sounds—I was observing a dream. This couldn’t be right.

And then I saw Kale’s shoe. It was wedged under the tire of a parked car. My heart sped up and I sucked in gusts of cold air.

He missed her! I thought. She must have lost her shoe when she jumped out of the way! I felt a cold mist of sweat, felt the painful thud of my heart against my ribs. She’s okay.

I pulled the shoe out and ran into the middle of the street to where a crowd had gathered.

“Will, Will, she’s okay!” My mouth must have stopped in midspeech because I felt a cold lick of wind whip across my teeth.

“Kale?”

Will looked over his shoulder at me and I could see his hands. He had two fingers pressed against Kale’s lovely pale neck. Her dangly purple-stoned earring was laid daintily across her cheek; it flopped out of sight when her head lolled toward the cement, listless. Her eyes were mostly closed; the heavy mascara on her lashes made a shadowed spiderwebbed pattern on her apple cheeks.

But it couldn’t have been Kale.

Kale ran away and left her shoe. She left her shoe. I had it in my hand.

I had it in my hand.

In agonizing slow motion, I felt the shoe slip from my fingertips and heard the sound of it thudding on the ground; it was a weird, hollow echo. The rest of the world dropped into silence. Kale’s eyelids fluttered but did not open. Will eyed me and I could see that his lips were pale and pressed together; his fire chief badge winked in the few shards of sunlight that pierced the gray, pregnant clouds. There was a smudge halfway up Will’s right arm and I felt my stomach lurch.

It was blood.

Will pointed to me and I saw his lips moving, but I don’t think there were any words. The rain started up again in a slow drizzle; I watched as people milled about, losing interest in the scene. They turned up their coat collars and clicked their umbrellas open. An ambulance wailed. There were fingertips on my arms and someone was pulling me backward. I stumbled over my feet, bit down hard on my lower lip but allowed myself to be led.

“She’s okay,” I heard myself mumble, finally able to work my mouth. “She’s okay, but she lost her shoe.”

I don’t know how I ended up on the sidewalk, but I sat down hard on the cement. The cold, wet reality struck me and suddenly everything was loud and chaotic—the ambulance shot down the street, sirens wailing, flanked by police cars with bright lights that tore through the gray fog. People were talking; someone was crying; seabirds were squawking. Will was kneeling in front of me and I felt the warmth of his hand on my shoulder, his fingertips squeezing me gently.

“Sophie, Sophie,” he was saying.

I blinked, finally registering the concern in his wide hazel eyes.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Will nodded slowly, a wet, sandy-colored lock of hair flopping over his forehead. “She’ll survive, but she’s going to be pretty banged up.”

My heart started to thud again. The blood began to course through my veins again, and I felt a fist of anger burning low in my belly. I sprang up, fists clenched. “Who was it?”

“Who was what?” Will wanted to know.

“Who hit Kale? Did the police take him? Did they get his car?”

Will laid a tender hand on my shoulder and I winced when I saw his eyes cloud—a sure sign that something was coming that he didn’t want to say—and it was likely something I didn’t want to know.

“He took off, love.”

“Took off? He took off?”

“Bloke didn’t even stop.”

I felt the torrent of tears again, but this time they were bitter, angry. “He didn’t even stop?” It was a whisper and I felt my lower lip quiver pitifully. “How could someone do that?”

Will guided me back into the diner and into our booth. I slid in and stared down at my burger and fries, the grease from the patty congealing in a slick brown pool. I slid my plate aside and took a large gulp of ice water. “Who the hell would hit someone and just drive away? He had to know—he had to know that he hit”—I could barely form the word—“her.”

“Unfortunately, hit and runs are really common in this city. Pedestrians are walking into the street—”

“You’re blaming Kale?” I was incredulous.

“No!” Will held out his palm, stop sign style. “No. The only person I blame is the idiot who hit her.”

Will started pulling dollars bills from his billfold.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “God, I need to get out of here.”

“Do you want me to walk you back to work?”

I swung my head, trying my best to clear the hum of thoughts fogging my mind. “No. I want you to take me to the hospital. We have to make sure she’s going to be okay.”

Will sucked in a breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Chapter Eight

My knee was bobbing uncontrollably as I sat in the waiting room and Will was talking to the emergency staff (a perk of being an EMT/fireman) to get information on Kale. By the time he came back, I was wringing my hands.

“Did you find out anything? Is she going to be okay? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” I felt like I needed to cry—wanted to cry—but every last bit of moisture had been used up.

Will sat next to me and put his hand on my knee. I stared at it, feeling my lip quiver.

“That’s not good,” I said, not taking my eyes off his hand.

Will’s gaze followed mine and he retracted his hand as though my knee had burned him. “No, love, it’s okay. Kale’s going to be fine. She’s got a few broken bones and she’s pretty bashed up, but she’s going to come through this okay.”

“Did the doctor say that?” I slid in my chair, turning to face Will. “Did they actually use the words she’s going to be okay?”

Will licked his lips, raking a hand through his hair. “Not those exact words. They’re still running some tests, but they’re pretty confident.”

I nodded, unable to form words. There was a nagging pain behind my eyes—something that told me I was missing something. When Will laid his arm across my shoulders, I slumped into him, half numb, half desperate, for some kind of comfort. A tremor started from the pit of my stomach and suddenly I was shivering, clenching my teeth to keep them from chattering. My fingers fumbled for my purse; I pawed around blindly.

“What do you need?”