Page 6 of Peak Suspicion
He did his best to describe his position, gave his name, then added, “I’m a volunteer with Eagle Mountain Search and Rescue. I’m going to try to get down to the vehicle.”
“Assistance will be there soon,” the operator assured him. “Please wait where you are.”
“Right.” He hung up, then studied the scene. The slope down to the SUV wasn’t that steep, and there were plenty of small shrubs and outcroppings to serve as handholds. He returned to his car and donned his Eagle Mountain SAR high-vis vest, slipped on a pack filled with first aid supplies and emergency equipment, and started down.
It only took a few minutes to reach the ledge. He approached the Toyota slowly, wary of causing it to shift, or even fall farther. But the vehicle was wedged tight. Even when he was close enough to touch it, it didn’t move an inch. He looked up toward the driver’s door. “Hello!” he called. “Are you okay?”
“Help me!” The voice—a woman’s—was clear but filled with fear.
“Hang on,” he called. “I’ll be right there.”
He boosted himself over the tire and lay across the driver’s-side door and looked in. All the windows of the vehicle were shattered, sheets of green glass fragments like beaded curtains hanging from the frame. He carefully pulled away this debris and looked in at the Toyota’s driver. She had been thrown sideways, held up by the shoulder harness and lap belt, the deflating airbags settling around her like rising dough. As he leaned in, she turned her head to look at him and he was shocked to recognize the bloodied face. “Mira!”
She stared, clearly trying to place him. “It’s Carter Ames,” he said. “We met at the search and rescue training session last night.”
“I remember.” She licked her bloodied lip. “What are you doing here?”
“I was driving behind you. I saw the skid marks where you went off the road. What happened?”
She tried to raise her hand, but the seat belt and her awkward position prevented her from lifting it more than a few inches. “I was distracted. Didn’t realize I was going so fast. Lost control.”
She closed her eyes.
“Stay with me, Mira.” He brushed broken glass from her shoulder. “Does it hurt anywhere? Do you think anything is broken?”
“My neck is sore.”
“You got thrown around in the fall, I imagine. What about your head? Did you hit it? You’re bleeding a little.” A line of blood as thick as a pencil trailed down one side of her face.
“I don’t think I hit my head. Maybe the glass…”
“Can you move your feet?”
“Yes. Can you get me out of here? It’s really uncomfortable.”
“Let’s wait until help gets here. We want to make sure we don’t do any damage trying to move you.”
“Will they be here soon?”
“They will be.” Depending on how far away the first responders were, it could take as little as fifteen minutes up to a full hour to reach an accident victim. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. His job now was to keep her calm. “What distracted you?” he asked. “Did an animal run out in front of you? Or did you see something that took your attention from the road?”
“I was upset about the note.”
“The note?”
“I got a note from whoever is writing everyone letters.”
“No kidding? I’m almost jealous. Seems like everyone is getting those things. A friend of mine got one complaining about the way he speeds down this one road in his neighborhood. Like going a few miles over the speed limit is a capital offense. What horrible crime did yours accuse you of?”
Silence. He wondered if she had lost consciousness. “Mira? Are you still with me?”
“Yes.”
“So what did the note say?”
“Oh. It accused me of jaywalking.”
“Jaywalking?”
