Page 37 of Like the Season
The other woman, still on the phone, returned his phone to him after disconnecting with the 911 operator on that call.
Ella was still moaning, crying, and he hoped that was a good thing. That, and she was squeezing his hand hard.
“Don’t move, honey. I’m right here.”
“It hurts. My leg, it hurts so bad.”
“I know, sweetie. The ambulance is coming.” She tried to roll over but he wouldn’t let her, knowing she needed to stay immobile in case she had other injuries.
The next few minutes passed in another confused, painful blur as the ambulance arrived, and police, and another ambulance.
The first officer on the scene wanted Boyd to stay behind and give a statement, but Boyd demanded to ride to the hospital with Ella. The officer finally agreed they’d have another officer follow along and interview him there. After locating Ella’s purse and duffel bag where they’d landed, and running up to lock her apartment door, Boyd climbed in with the ambulance crew.
Only then did he look to see what had happened to the car that had hit her.
It’d crashed into a Dumpster and the concrete enclosure surrounding it. The driver’s door stood open, but on the ground beneath it lay a sheet-shrouded form.
* * * *
Ella was taken to the closest hospital, not the same one she worked at. She remained conscious the entire ride to the hospital, which was a good thing. An officer arrived minutes later, and while Ella was whisked off to radiology, the officer talked to Boyd and took his statement.
Stunned and now shaking, he kept Ella’s things in his lap and hugged them as he recalled what happened.
“Is he really dead? The driver?”
The officer nodded. “There were several empty alcohol bottles on the front passenger floorboard. He sustained a severe head injury in the wreck. Airbags went off, but we don’t think he was wearing his seatbelt, based on what the windshield looked like. Partially went through it, and a few chunks of concrete came through the windshield, too. Seems like he hit it pretty hard. He was unresponsive when bystanders ran over and pulled him out of the wreck.”
“He was fucking drunk, huh?”
“Have to wait for preliminary toxicology reports, but I’d guess yes.”
“I haven’t seen that car around. Did he live there?”
The officer looked at his notes. “Richard McDorman. Ring a bell?” A look of recognition must have filled Boyd’s face, because the officer’s gaze narrowed. “Sir?”
“DoctorRichard McDorman?”
“That I don’t know. Why?”
“Because it can’t be a mere coincidence that the guy who knocked Ella up, who is a doctor by that same name, and who got fired yesterday from the hospital they both worked at because he threatened her for reporting him to HR, suddenly tried to run her over.”
The officer pulled out a cell phone and called someone. Moments later, they had their answer.
“It’s him.”
Boyd slumped back in his chair. “Motherfucker.”
“I think I’m going to need you to back up and start over with your story, sir.”
Boyd nodded and did just that, including their meeting with McDorman, and with Lorena Calgary, and the events that led to McDorman being terminated from the hospital.
Once Boyd finished his statement, the officer stepped out to make a few phone calls, promising to return shortly so he could talk to Ella.
It was nearly eight local time, meaning eleven in Florida, and he realized he hadn’t called Caleb yet that evening. Hoping Caleb was still awake, he made the call.
“Hey, Sir. I was just about to go to bed.”
“Yeah, it…got crazy here tonight.”
