She Can Hide (She Can #4)(6)

The paramedic nudged Ethan toward the open ambulance door at his back.

“Whatever happened, she’s lucky you were passing.” The chief’s eyes snapped back to Ethan. “Go.”

“I’ll get her statement while I’m at the hospital.”

The chief raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Are you sure? I can get Pete to do it. He’s coming on shift now.”

Now that was tempting. Ethan had enough problems of his own. But the accident bugged him, and there was something about Abby Foster.…He stood and looked over his shoulder into the ambulance. Her slim body was encased in thick blankets, her big brown eyes glassy with shock. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The chief lowered his voice and leaned closer. “OK. While you’re there, get her to consent to a blood alcohol test.” Straightening, he turned toward the tow truck pulling onto the shoulder. “Good work today, Ethan. I’m damned glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.” Ethan climbed inside and sat on a bench, grateful Ms. Foster hadn’t died either. His mind conjured up an image of her body floating lifeless in the freezing current. Ethan pushed it away. There was no point in torturing himself with what-ifs. He’d gotten to her in time. End of story.

An hour later, the ER physician, satisfied that Ethan’s body temperature and vital signs were normal, declared him fit. Dressed in a borrowed pair of scrubs and drinking a scalding cup of coffee, Ethan left the curtained ER cubicle. His teeth had finally stopped chattering, but he could still feel the chill in his bone marrow. A nurse directed him to his accident victim. Through the clear glass wall, he saw her reclining in a cubicle. Her eyes were closed. A Styrofoam cup steamed on a tray table next to her. An IV line trailed from a bag of fluids into her hand.

He knocked on the doorframe. She startled, then recovered with a slow blink of doe eyes that warmed Ethan better than any cup of coffee.

“Ms. Foster, how are you feeling?” He stepped up next to the gurney.

Her fresh face and blonde hair poked out of a heap of blankets. She looked sweet and young and vulnerable. A small bump swelled on her forehead, the skin around it reddening. Just below it, a small Band-Aid covered the cut above her eyebrow. She’d have a nice bruise tomorrow. Ethan stamped down his stirring emotions. More than the average amount of sympathy was swirling around in his chest. This was police business. There was no room in the job or in his life for a pretty blonde.

“I’m alive, thanks to you. Please call me Abby. You saved my life.”

Ethan’s face heated. He sipped his coffee to clear his throat. “I have to ask you some questions.”

“Of course.” But she looked sick at the thought.

Ethan pulled his notebook from his pocket and took her personal information. She squinted as if the bright light was painful. “Does your head hurt?”

“A little.” She touched her temple and winced.

He eyed the lump. “Were you wearing your seat belt?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I unfastened it to get out, but the car kept moving.” The small amount of color her face had recovered drained away, leaving her skin pale and smooth as river ice. “It was disorienting.”

“I imagine it was.” Empathy filled Ethan. He’d been in the open creek, and that had been bad enough. He couldn’t comprehend the terror of being trapped in a submerged car with bone-numbing water rising all around. “Tell me about the accident. Where were you going?”

“To the park.” Her tone was unsure. Her brows drew together in a confused V.

Ethan’s pen hovered over the page. “Which park?”

“I run at the park behind the township athletic fields. I knew I’d be stuck with the treadmill for the next few days, so I wanted to get a good run in before the storm hit.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds.

That couldn’t be right. “The sleet started hours ago.”

“I don’t remember driving into the water. I don’t even remember leaving the school. I teach math at Westbury High.” Her voice trembled, and her slender throat moved as she swallowed.

Ethan checked the Styrofoam cup on the table. Full. “Do you want some of your hot chocolate?”

She shook her head. “I wish I remembered.”

“Let’s talk about what you do recall,” Ethan said. “How did you get out of the vehicle?”

Her eyes filled with moisture. With a brave sniff, she pulled a hand free of the blankets to swipe a stray tear from her cheek. “Through the window. I didn’t know the button would work underwater.”

“They’re supposed to, but they don’t always.” If the windows hadn’t worked or if he hadn’t stayed at that farm all afternoon, Ethan would’ve been diving for her remains. Navy SEALs aside, not many people can keep their cool to wait for a vehicle to fill with water, then calmly open the door and swim to safety, especially if the vehicle doesn’t stay horizontal.

“What do you remember about your day?” How hard had she hit her head?

“I was at the high school getting ready for my run. I changed my clothes in the locker room. A second later I was sitting in my car in the river.”

“What time did you leave the school?”

“Two thirty.”

Ethan glanced at the clock. “What did you do for two hours?”