Was she breathing okay? He placed his fingers under her nose and felt little puffs of warm air. Okay. Alive. Breathing.
Pulse? He felt her neck. Yeah, her heart was pumping away, not too rushed.
He backed away, eyes scanning the girl for anything amiss. Her right arm was jammed between her side and the back of the couch. He lunged forward, lifted the arm out, and placed it on top of her.
He backed away again. Well. She lookedcomfortable. Now what?
Shirley. Right.He should call her. There should be a woman here and not just him. What about an aid car? But what would he tell them?
Just get Shirley on the phone!
He crossed the room to the phone, sidestepping and peering sideways to keep his eyes on the girl. “Hi, Shirley. This is Dane. Uh, could you come right over, right now? Well, I’ve got a girl on the couch and she’s unconscious and … Well, I don’t know. She was running from a—well, you’re an EMT, aren’t you? Do you have your tool kit, all that EMT stuff with you? Yeah, yeah, bring it. I’ll tell you when you get here. Yeah, okay, I’ll call ’em.”
Call the aid car, she said. He tapped out 911.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” The lady’s voice was calm. She could have been working for an insurance brokerage.
Dane knelt by the couch, peering at the restful face. He felt as if he were doing a scene from Sleeping Beauty.“Uh, I have a young lady here asleep on the couch and, uh, I wanted to be sure she’s okay.”
“A young lady, sir?”
“Uh, yeah, right.”
“Are you calling from the McBride residence?”
“No, this is Dane Collins.”
“You’re not calling from the McBride residence at twelve-fifty Robin Hill Road?”
“Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah I am. I forgot. I just bought the place.”
“So this is twelve-fifty Robin Hill Road, Hayden, Idaho.”
“Yes, yes, it is.”
“And what’s your emergency?”
“I just brought a girl into the house and she’s unconscious.”
“Is she breathing normally?”
He listened, leaning close. “She’s snoring a little.”
It wasn’t a loud, rude snore, just one of those cute little ones that Mandy used to do when her head was tilted a certain way and her mouth dropped open.
“So she’s breathing normally?”
He raised her head slightly and adjusted the pillow. The snoring stopped and she breathed in sleepy little sighs. “I would say she’s breathing just fine.”
“How old is she?”
Young. So very young. “Umm … I don’t know. Early twenties, I guess.”
“Is she injured?”
“I don’t know. She might be.”
“And what’s your name, sir?”
I wonder if she has Mandy’s teeth? “Dane Collins. Uh, Daniel.”
“Duane Collins Daniel?”
He peered into her slightly open mouth. “No, no, Dane. I mean, well, Daniel, just Daniel.”
“Why don’t you just say your first and last name for me.”
Well. He could only see the sides of a few molars. Maybe they looked like Mandy’s teeth, but was that because he wanted them to? They were nice teeth, but teeth are teeth, even nice teeth—
“Sir?”
“Huh? I’m sorry, what did you ask me?”
“I need you to say your name.”
“Okay, right. Daniel Collins. Dane is a nickname.”
“Okay, got it.”
“Are you going to send somebody?”
“They’re already en route, sir. Now, you don’t know of any injuries?”
None that he could see. Of course, she was wearing a coat. Oh, brother. Shirley, where are you?
“Did she hit her head? Is she bleeding anywhere?”
He swept his eyes over her small shoes, her slender jeans, her blue shirt tail hanging out, her hooded jacket, and then her neck up to behind her ear where the brown hair had fallen aside. “There’s a … a little scratch or something on her neck, just a little bit of blood.” What about her hair right there? Were those blond roots?
There was a knock, and the side door opened. Dane spun away from the girl on the couch. “Hey! Shirley!”
Shirley strode on her short legs into the living room, lugging her big orange EMT kit.
“Okay,” Dane said into the phone, “we have an EMT here.”
“Oh, the crew is there already?”
“No, my neighbor is an EMT. I called her.”
“Oh, very good. Well, the aid crew should be arriving any minute.”
Dane told Shirley, “The aid car’s on its way.”
Shirley was already checking Eloise’s breathing and pulse. “Better open the gate.”
Dane said good-bye to the dispatcher and entered the gate open code into the phone.
Shirley struggled trying to remove Eloise’s coat. “Give me a hand here.”
He helped her get the coat off. That didn’t go so smoothly either, but he felt better with Shirley doing it and him helping. Eloise’s shirt was damp with sweat. Shirley rolled up the left sleeve and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around the arm. “Better bring us one of those blankets in the upstairs hall closet. Bring the purple one.”
By the time he returned with the blanket the aid car had arrived, lights flashing, and two paramedics came to the front door. One was a big-bellied, balding everybody’s neighbor, and the other could have been a high school basketball coach, young, tall, and buzz cut. Shirley knew both of them. The big-bellied guy was named Ron, the young guy Steve. Steve got out an oxygen bottle while Ron shined a penlight into Eloise’s eyes.
“Is she on any drugs?” Ron asked.
The phone rang. “I don’t know,” Dane said, then picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Dane? Dane Collins?” It was a woman. He didn’t recognize the voice.
“Did she hit her head?” Ron asked. “Do you know?”
To the phone, “Uh, yes,” and to Ron, “I don’t know.”
The woman said, “Dane, this is Dr. Kessler, from Las Vegas.”
She could have punched him in the jaw. His mind went into little blips and flashes that didn’t connect to anything. “Uh. Dr. Kessler?”
“Do you remember me?”
Ron asked, “What’s her name?”
Dane covered the phone and answered, “Eloise.” He uncovered the phone. “Yeah, sure, I remember you.”
“And how are you doing?”
“Uh …” He looked toward the couch.
Ron was gently shaking Eloise by the shoulders. “Eloise? Wake up. Eloise? You hear me? Wake up.”
Dane lowered his voice, he wasn’t sure why. “I’m, I’m not sure this is a good time right now.”
“Sounds like you have someone there with you,” Kessler said.
He was watching Eloise. They’d put an oxygen mask on her. “She’s …”
Eloise made a little whimper, beginning to stir. Ron signaled for Shirley to step in. “It’s all right,” said Shirley. “You’re all right.”
“Who was that?” asked Kessler.
“That was …” Why’d she need to know? “Uh, Dr. Kessler, could we start over? Hello, how are you doing, and why are you calling me?”
Eloise’s eyes half opened and she jolted, still dopey. Her little yelp was muted inside the oxygen mask. She blinked at Shirley and the paramedics like a dazed, cornered animal.
Kessler was saying something. “… to find out how you were doing. You remember the conversation we had?”
Oh, yeah. He remembered it. “Sure.” His eyes were on Eloise. She didn’t seem to be focusing yet, but being hemmed in by paramedics was troubling her.
“I was wondering if you were having any problems such as those we talked about.”
He didn’t want to tell her how much Eloise Kramer looked like Mandy, very much when she was knocked out—she even snored like Mandy—and almost perfectly when she was awake, a fact that was overwhelming him this very moment. “Such as?”
Kessler wasn’t having an easy time of this either. He could imagine her consulting her invisible notes again and shifting in her chair. “Umm … we would call it a delusional disorder, in this case, your thinking you see Mandy.”