“Sorry,’’ I said. “A narrow escape from death might make anybody a little emotional. Now,’’ I said, shifting gears, “tell me why you can’t just give me a ride back to town?’’
“If it was any other night, I would. But my little boy’s sick, and my wife is already late for the night shift at the nursing home. My son needs me, and those old people need her. I’m sorry, Mace.’’
I felt bad for being so selfish. Not to mention ancient. I couldn’t believe my one-time babysitting charge was married with a boy of his own. That siren was getting closer. Even as banged up as I felt, I knew I’d rather walk to town than ride in that ambulance.
Suddenly, I had what seemed like a good idea. Then again, I might have had a brain injury.
“Could you call Detective Martinez?’’ I said. “I believe this might have something to do with the questions I’ve been asking about Jim Albert’s murder. Maybe he’ll think so, too. He’d want to get a look at things out here, in case it turns out this is a crime scene.’’
I could see Donnie thinking it over. The detective outranked him. He wouldn’t want to be blamed for making a mistake. I knew if Martinez came out, I could bum a ride back with him. I’d prefer even that to being shut into the back of an ambulance.
Donnie finally agreed, putting in a call for the detective. In the meantime, the ambulance crew arrived and checked me over. They did essentially what Donnie had done, except they used various medical gizmos to gauge my vital signs. They grumbled a little when I refused to be transported to the hospital. But I know my rights. I don’t have a cousin who’s a lawyer for nothing.
Martinez arrived just as the ambulance was leaving. Donnie met him by the road, and the two conferred, out of my hearing. Donnie was probably telling him how I’d hallucinated a chase scene after I got knocked on the head. That, along with my daddy’s visit from heaven. After Martinez stopped nodding, they headed my way.
He peered into my face. Not that I cared, but was that a flicker of concern in his eyes?
“How’re you feeling, Ms. Bauer?’’ he asked.
“Not crazy, if that’s what you want to know. Someone ran me off the road.’’
He put out his arm for me to grab hold of. I ignored it, and climbed down off Donnie’s hood. A shot of pain from my knee nearly took my breath away. My leg buckled, but Martinez caught me firmly by the waist. I was still shakier than I’d thought. But not so shaky I didn’t notice the hard muscle in his arm where he held me next to his side. Or the masculine way he smelled, like after-shave mixed with a faint trace of cigars.
“Steady, chica.’’ His warm breath in my ear sent a shiver south of my stomach. I wasn’t sure what the Spanish word meant, but it sounded nice. “Just take slow steps, okay?’’ Martinez said. “We’re going to get you to the front seat of my car. We’ll take our time.’’
He nodded curtly at Donnie, dismissing him from the responsibility of me. With a wave from the open driver’s side window of his car, Donnie bid me good-bye. “Remember what I said about dozing off, Mace. It’s nothing to have to hide.’’
I smiled and waved back. But I was simmering inside. I couldn’t believe Donnie thought I was making it all up.
“I’m telling the truth, you know,’’ I said, feeling cranky now.
As Martinez settled me into his passenger seat, I repeated what I’d told Donnie. Including how I thought my crash was linked to the murder. Every once in awhile, he’d nod, leaning against the inside of my open door, arms across his chest.
When I was done, he said, “I don’t disbelieve you, Ms. Bauer.’’
What the hell did that mean? He wasn’t calling me a liar, but he wasn’t saying he believed me, either.
“We’ll know more about how it happened when we can look over your car. The officer called …’’
“Donnie,” I said, annoyed. “He has a name.’’
“All right, Officer Donnie called for a tow truck. They’ll haul your Jeep to the Florida Highway Patrol, and tomorrow we’ll see what we can find. I’ve requested an accident investigator from the FHP. She’s coming out here to check the scene for skid marks, tire tracks, and anything else she can find.’’
He leaned across my body and fastened the seat belt at my hip. There was that cursed twinge again. Apparently, there was nothing wrong with my nether regions. His cologne smelled spicy, but subtle. It definitely beat the ditch water stench coming off of me.
After rummaging in his trunk, Martinez returned with three roadside flares. “I’m going to light these to mark the accident scene, and then you’re going to the hospital. Your friend, Officer Donnie, already gave dispatch the location, but these will help the investigator narrow it down.’’ He placed the flares on the car’s roof, and stooped to look at me. Brushing the hair from my forehead, he examined my wound. I was surprised at the gentleness of his touch. His hands looked so strong. I jerked away, but the warm impression from his fingers lingered.
“You were northbound when you went off the road, right?’’
“When I was run off the road,’’ I snapped at him, embarrassed by my body’s response to him.
“What were you doing out here anyway? It’s the middle of nowhere.’’
As if to emphasize our isolation, we heard the deep, bellowing grunt of a bull gator. All of a sudden, an image of Mama’s boyfriend flashed into my head. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to mention before now how he’d summoned me to the distant golf course.
“Salvatore Provenza, huh?’’ Martinez’s attention was riveted as I related my story. “And you say he wasn’t there when you showed up?’’
“That’s right. I didn’t even want to go out to that stupid golf course in the first place. I’d been busy all day, questioning people who might know something about Mama’s case.’’
“So I’ve heard. You’re quite the interrogator.’’ Did I see the tiniest smile cracking through the granite in Martinez’s jaw?
“Anyway, I was tired. All I wanted to do was go home, nuke some fried chicken, and vegetate in front of my TV. But he’s my mother’s boyfriend. And he sounded so desperate.’’
“Sal’s desperate all right.” Martinez rose. All trace of a smile was gone. “And you’d be wise to remember that desperate people do desperate things.’’
Dread settled like a boulder in my stomach as Martinez and I pulled up to Himmarshee Regional Hospital. I’m not afraid of doctors. But I am afraid of my older sister.
I could see Maddie through the plate glass window, washed in a red glow from the emergency room sign. She was sitting in a nearly empty row of chairs. The set of her mouth was as hard as the steel bolts that screwed the chairs to the floor. Marty was beside her, staring into space and worrying the tissue in her hands into shreds.