Dark Justice(5)

“Wait! Please!”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the camera swing toward Mom.

The medics reached the gurney and laid Morton, still on the backboard, upon it. A young-looking man turned to my mother. “Ma’am, we need to go.”

She brushed past him, determined.

“Ma’am—”

Must have been something in Mom’s eyes. The female paramedic gazed at my mother, then shook her head at her colleague. “One second.”

Mom reached Morton’s side and bent over him. I could see his face. His eyes were still closed. Was he even conscious?

“I remember,” she whispered. “We won’t forget.” She patted his head.

I looked to one of the men from the fire truck. “Where are they taking him?”

“Coastside in Moss Beach. It’s the closest hospital.”

“Is he going to make it?”

He bunched his lips. “Don’t know. I don’t like how his breathing sounds.”

“Okay, let’s go.” The female paramedic nudged Mom away. I slipped to my mother’s side and eased her back from the gurney. The paramedics placed Morton into the ambulance and shut the doors.

Mom clutched her hands to her chest, watching. Trembling.

The camera turned from us to the ambulance.

One of the men from the fire truck nodded to me. “Thanks for your help.”

“Sure.”

Another breeze kicked up as the ambulance pulled onto the highway and turned back toward the coast. The heady scent of grass and dirt swept over me. I glanced back toward Morton’s small car, still on its side. How crushed it looked. The harbinger of death.

A sudden sense of doom sank talons into me. I wanted to be away from this scene of disaster and the rolling news camera. Safe and quiet in my home with my mother.

“Let’s move back a little from the road, Mom.” I took her elbow.

“Wait. I have to watch him as long as I can.”

We gazed at the back of the ambulance until it disappeared around a curve.

“Okay.” I nudged her arm.

She looked at me, her eyes still shiny with tears. “Can we go home now?” Her lips turned down, forlorn.

“Yes. Soon as we talk to the deputy.”

“What for?”

“He’ll probably want to get our names and phone number, since we were the first witnesses.”

The firemen headed for their truck. The reporter and her cameraman made a beeline for us, microphone in her hand. “Ma’am, did you see the accident?”

I cringed and shook my head.

“Wait now.” The deputy hustled toward them, his hands up. “I need to talk to these folks first.”

“But if we could just ask—”

“You’ll have to wait.”

Mom looked on with round eyes. “Are we gonna be on television?”

I shuddered at the thought of such attention. “Not if I can help it.”

The deputy had a few more words with the reporter, then headed our way. The camera followed him. I turned my back to it, shuffling Mom around with me.

“Remember,” Mom whispered. “Don’t tell.”

“Well, I imagine it’s okay to tell law enforcement.”

“No, it isn’t!” Her voice rose with immediate indignation. She grasped my hands. “We promised. We promised Morton!”

“I know, but—”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” Her expression hardened, a precursor to her episodes. My heart stilled. One of my mother’s screaming meltdowns and a rolling TV camera would be a terrible mix.

“Tell me you won’t, Hannah. Tell me you won’t!” She shook a boney finger at me.

“Okay, Mom, okay.” I grabbed her finger and lowered it. Anything to keep this from escalating.

Since she’d come to live with me, that was how I’d learned to live my life.

The deputy came around to stand in front of us. He had broad shoulders, a big neck. Mom shot me a hard look, but said no more. The deputy eyed her. How much had he heard?

He held his beefy hand out to me. “Good afternoon. I’m Deputy Harcroft from the Sheriff’s Department Coastside Patrol. I understand you were first on the scene. You called 911?”

“Yes.” Mom spoke before I could. “My daughter ran to help. His name is Morton. Like the salt.”

Deputy Harcroft’s gaze lingered on Mom’s face, as if assessing her. Then he turned back to me. “Where were you headed when you saw the accident?”

“San Carlos. Where we live.”

“San Carlos? Where were you coming from?”

“The Ritz Carlton.”

“Why didn’t you take Highway 92?”

What was this? “I decided to take a more rural drive.”