Page 90 of Bountiful
“Shh,” I said, pulling her to me again, even though the gear shift was in the way. She started to shake. Or maybe we both did. I could feel her heart fluttering against mine, like a littlebird’s.
Some amount of time passed. I spent it trying not to think about the glow of the headlights on Zara’s hair as the truck had acceleratedtowardher.
I became aware that nearby voices were raised in excitement. “What the hellhappened?”
“JesusChrist.”
“Zara?Holyshit.”
She pulled away from me to look up at her brother Benito. “I’mokay.”
“The door of your car isgone. It’s, like, fifty fuckingyardsaway.”
Nausea rolled through me as I pictured Zara standing against that door a few seconds before the truck hit it. “Someone call the police,” I said, my tonguethick.
“They’re on the way,”Benitosaid.
During the next few minutes I worked out that Benito was managing the bar that night. Someone else who’d seen the speeding truck had gone in tofetchhim.
My brain remained a little fuzzy. Shock would do that. I got out of the car and stood there, holding Zara’s hand, leaning against the wrecked side of the car, waiting for the police, and just trying to hold my psyche incheck.
Eventually the cops came. They let Zara speak first. “I didn’t see the driver. I barely saw the truck. I didn’t even know why Dave yanked me back into the car until I heard the truck crack offthedoor.”
There was talk of calling the paramedics, but Zara waved them off. “I need to getupstairs.”
At some point they let her goonup.
Watching Zara walk away splintered something inside me. There was a baby upstairs in her crib who’d almost lost her mother tonight. I felt sick every time I pictured those few seconds. It was a miracle she hadn’t been hit. Hell, even if she’d left one leg outside ofthecar…
I shuddered again. “Sorry, what was the question?” I asked the cop who was trying to talktome.
“What color was thetruck?”
“Uh. Dark. Black, or at leastdarkgray.”
“Model?Anyidea?”
“Well…” I hadn’t gotten a good look. “A really ordinary pickup. Maybe an F-150. Notfancy.”
“We have cameras on this parking lot, Johnny,” Benito offered. “I set ’em upmyself.”
“Yeah? That was gonna be my next question. Can we go see ’em?” the copasked.
“Follow me,”Benitosaid.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Zara
“What happened?”my mother demanded the moment I stepped into theapartment.
“Everything is fine,” I said in a shaky voice. “There was a truck. Drunk driver, maybe. He didn’t hit anyone.”Because Dave pulled me out of the way, first. I didn’t go into detail because I didn’t want toscareher.
“Why are thecopshere?”
“Slow crime night in Vermont?” Sass was so ingrained in my personality that I could snark even when numb. And Iwasnumb. My hands were cold and my knees felt unsteady. Not in a good way, either. “Go on home, Mom. Thanks for putting hertobed.”
“Four picture books,” she said with a smile. “She didn’t want to go to sleep. Did she have alatenap?”
