Chapter 2
Two
Emma sat on the edge of the neatly made hospital bed and kept her eyes open wide.
She tried not to blink as the doctor shined a light at her pupils.
Her eyes watered, and she shifted on the bed.
The sharp tang of antiseptic stung her nostrils.
She’d rather be anywhere else. But Daniel had asked her to get checked out, and she had agreed.
“I’m sorry to get these linens dirty. I really feel fine,” she apologized.
“It’s fine. Laundry is part of the job,” Dr. Knick said. She clicked the pen light and slipped it into her pocket. “Alright, you should be fine. I see no cause for concern. No trauma. Just a little light-headedness. A natural response to what you witnessed.” The doctor offered a pleasant smile.
Emma released a heavy sigh and wiped her eyes. She had never fainted before and felt a little silly that she had done so and required medical attention when someone else was in dire straits. The doctor’s reassuring bedside manner eased some of Emma’s embarrassment.
She had bigger concerns than saving face in a hometown she had left years ago. “What about Owen? How is he?”
On the ride over to the hospital, she couldn't help but recall Owen completely vulnerable and almost lifeless on the stretcher.
Her mind flashed back to the images of her sister's body at the bottom of the hill. She should never have looked at the crime scene photos when the sheriff had talked with her parents. Another stormy summer night decades ago wasn’t the same as this evening, Emma reminded herself.
A shiver threatened to shake loose. If she gave in, she might never stop shuddering.
Owen had medical attention. He’d been found within those precious minutes following the accident. He’d make it. When her sister had been discovered, Liz had been a shell of a person, cold and unmoving, already gone.
Emma shifted on the bed again, sitting on her hands to combat the urge to fidget.
“I can't discuss other patients,” Dr. Knick said. “I’m sorry.”
Emma’s cheeks flushed. She knew that. “Oh, of course. I’m the one who should apologize.
Ignore me.” She tucked her chin to her chest. In a moment of personal trauma, she forgot about the basics.
Doctor patient confidentiality was part of an oath guiding caregivers.
She had a similar agreement in her profession.
A knock sounded at the door.
Emma raised her head, grateful for any interruption.
A nurse poked his head in. “Doctor. We need you.”
“You’re okay to hang tight for a minute?” Dr. Knick asked, striding toward the door.
Was she? Emma didn’t know. Her head pounded with too much information. She flashed a thumbs up.
The doctor left.
Another knock sounded.
Daniel appeared. “Emma, how are you feeling?” he asked, stopping inside the door.
“Hi, Sheriff. Good evening again.” She lifted the corner of her mouth in her best attempt at a kind smile. She felt a mix of chagrin and distance, an off-balance sensation. “I’m fine, but I’m feeling a little overdramatic given what happened to Owen. How is he? Do you know? Can you tell me?”
“I can’t offer any specifics.” Daniel folded his arms over his chest.
His words hung in the air.
“Will he be here overnight?” she asked. Conjecture probably wasn’t in his code of conduct.
Daniel didn’t react.
She gulped. She wanted to ask about the other car.
Had anyone found it? Was this targeted? She supposed a kid could have been out for a joyride.
That seemed unlikely on that twisty stretch of road.
If the driver wanted to floor it, wouldn’t the person choose the section of highway that was straight?
“Do you need a ride back to the camp?” he asked.
“Yes, I’d appreciate that. I feel like I should call and give everyone a heads up. But I left my purse behind.”
“Actually.” He reached inside his coat and pulled a strap over his head. “I grabbed it for you.” He neared and handed it to her, his rough hands brushing against her clammy fingers.
“Thank you,” she murmured, staring down at the purse.
She didn’t want to meet his gaze and want more than he could offer. He put distance between them back at the scene and again when he had entered the room. She’d do well to follow his lead. He was the authority around town now.
But she yearned for her friend. Growing up, he’d been her support and comfort.
She’d admired his strength of character, his absolute sense of right and wrong.
He was a man devoted to the Lord. She’d leaned on her faith throughout her life and came into her own understanding after losing her sister.
She often thought of how Daniel devoted himself to prayer especially in the difficult times when her own faith wavered.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll step outside and give you some space. I need to go follow up about Owen. Meet me in the waiting area when you’re ready to leave?”
She nodded and flashed him a thumbs up.
He exited the room quietly, and she took in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of cleaning agent again. The scent hinted a making a fresh start. She yearned to do so but at what cost?
Maybe she’d been foolish to entertain the idea of coming back to make peace and move on.
If Owen hadn’t chased her down tonight, he’d be safe.
That line of what if thinking was dangerous.
She found her cell phone and dialed the main office number, but the phone rang and rang.
On the outdated website, she found the number for the office phone and tried that.
“Hello?” a female voice answered.
“Hi, it’s Emma Lynde.”
“Hey, stranger. It’s me, Christine. Where are you? I saw the stuff on your bunk. Jennifer and I were getting worried.” Christine chuckled. “Thought we’d have to send out a search party. Maggot is here somewhere. We’re just missing you. Hurry up!”
With those sentences, Emma instantly travelled back in time. Jennifer and Christine were the inseparable best friends. They were closer than Emma and her twin sister, if such a thing were possible.
Maggot was really Marge. Emma had never quite clicked with the girl, a wealthy east coaster who was eager to please. Liz had adopted her early on. She’s a little odd. Who cares? Liz had said. She needs a chance. Everyone deserves a friend.
Marge had—in an accidental way—been the first troubled teen Emma had helped.
Liz’s kindness to the awkward girl had encouraged Emma to reach out and help teens in need.
Emma took in her surroundings, the seriousness of the situation reflected in the cold cleanliness of the hospital room.
Reminiscing could wait. “Where’s Mrs. Thomas? ”
“Probably up at the mess hall. I walked by and heard the phone ring, so I answered. Do you need her? Where are you?”
Emma didn’t want to share the news about Owen via a messenger. She probably shouldn’t mention it at all. “I was out getting the cake and…” Emma drew in a deep breath. “There was an accident on the highway.”
“Oh no. Really? I hope it wasn’t anyone we know.”
Emma gritted her teeth at the poorly timed, suspicious turn of phrase. Not every camper had arrived for the reunion. The statement was logical and expressed a natural concern. “My vehicle was hit.”
“But you sound fine. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital. I’m fine. I’ve been cleared and am getting a ride back.
I’ll be there soon. But can you let Mrs. Thomas know I didn’t make it to the bakery?
” Emma crossed her fingers that the disappointment was enough of a distraction from the seriousness of what really happened.
Too soon, Mrs. Thomas would learn the terrible news and make her way to the hospital to keep vigil at her son’s bedside.
“Of course. Stay safe. See you soon.”
Emma ended the call. She laid down on the bed, resting her head against the pillow and shutting her eyes.
Coming back for the reunion had been a mistake.
She’d imagined healing old wounds and finally finding peace.
She’d been wrong. She prayed Owen would recover from the calamity she blamed herself for causing.
If she hadn’t been on the road, she wouldn’t have created the chaotic scene that led to the crash.
Meeting Daniel again had proven that she was too late to pick up the pieces of the past. At one time, the sheriff had been her best friend, someone who had known her better than she knew herself.
Someone as dear to her as her twin sister.
But when the tragedy had happened, Emma couldn’t bear to stay close or be seen.
She wanted anonymity and space. And she’d found both elsewhere.
The door opened.
“Please don’t tell me you’re kicking me out,” she teased, keeping her eyes shut.
No response.
Good. Maybe the person had the wrong room. She needed to gather her wits about her before heading back to camp with bad news and empty hands.
Footsteps approached.
With her peace shattered, she opened her eyes and moved to sit up, gripping the sheets underneath her hands. “I’m going. I’m going.”
Fabric slipped over her head, twisting on her throat and trapping her against the bed. She clawed at her neck, kicked with her legs, and bucked with all her strength. She had to free herself. In response, the fabric pulled tighter. Every breath burned as her air supply was cut off.
She was dying. Through the fabric, a pillowcase she realized, she couldn’t make out her assailant. Her vision blurred. This was the end. Why? Shouldn’t her attacker explain themselves? TV and movies convinced her a villain would monologue. The silence permeated the atmosphere.
A knock pounded the door.
“Sorry, I promise I didn’t forget about you,” the male nurse said, opening the door.
The assailant dropped their hold and ran, shoes squeaking against the tile.
Gasping, Emma whipped the pillowcase off her head and sat up.
The male nurse gaped as the dark clad figure knocked him to the ground and burst from the room.
Emma coughed, choking on big gulps of air as she massaged her neck.