There was hardly enough room in the front for Rebecca to hold the stick out and tip the end up. With a few light flicks of her wrist, the purse began to slide down the stick. When it was close enough, she switched hands and slipped the purse off the stick.
“Got it.” She let out an exhausted sigh.
Since she was pinned by the steering wheel, she had to change hands again, although her right hand was numb. With her good hand, she opened the zipper and reached inside. She felt her bank book, credit card holder, lipstick tubes. Come on. Where’s my phone?
“Check on your sister again,” she said, wanting to keep him busy.
She shoved her hand deeper into her purse. No cell phone.
When she was sure she’d checked every inch of the purse, she muffled a small cry. Where was her phone?
She swallowed hard. “My phone’s not in my purse. It must be on the floor somewhere. I’ll check up front, and you try to wake Ella so you can give her Puff.”
While Colton called his sister’s name, she leaned forward as far as she could. On the floor of the passenger seat was an assortment of empty bank envelopes and a notebook. She grabbed the hockey stick and poked at the envelopes. Nothing underneath them. She pushed aside the notebook. Her cell phone lay underneath.
“Found it.”
“Mom, Ella’s wheezy, and she’s still sleeping.”
“Try to give her a puff anyway.”
She wasn’t sure that would do much since Ella wouldn’t be inhaling the medication like normal, but they had to do something to keep her breathing under control.
She tried to ease the tip of the hockey stick beneath the phone, but it only pushed the phone farther away. What she needed was something tacky.
She stared at the tape wrapped around the blade of the hockey stick. It was something the players did to give the blade extra support. Something Wesley had shown Colton. One of his good fatherly deeds.
“Colton, where’s your hockey tape?”
“I had it.” A few seconds went by before he shouted, “Found it!”
“I’m going to hold your hockey stick out toward you, and I want you to put some tape on the end. But as you wind it, twist it so the sticky part is facing out. Understand?”
“No problem, Mom.”
She maneuvered the stick toward him once more. Minutes later, the task was completed and she drew the stick back and over the passenger seat. Then she carefully held it out so the tip of the blade hovered over the floor of the passenger seat.
Her vision swam and she paused. Please, God, not now.
“Did you get it?” Colton asked.
“Not yet.”
A few more inches and the stick made contact with the phone. Now all she had to do was navigate it so the sticky part of the tape would rest on the cell phone.
“Almost got it. There!”
With the phone securely stuck to the tape, she rolled the stick slowly until the phone rested on top of the blade. “I’ve got it, but I can’t reach it because the stick’s too long, so I’m going to pass it to you.”
She took slow, even breaths as she moved. Her hand vibrated as she raised the stick over the passenger seat and then aimed it at her son.
“That’s good, Mom.” Colton grabbed the phone and peeled it from the tape.
“Give the phone to me.”
She stretched out as far as possible, and Colton did the same. Her fingers just grazed the cell phone in his hand, and she bit her bottom lip when it bumped her swollen fingers. “Got it.”
As soon as the phone was in her hand, she flipped it open, praying it wasn’t damaged in the crash. The screen lit up as a surge of dizziness sizzled through her body. Transferring the cell phone to her good hand, she thumb-dialed 911.
“Nine one one,” a warm male voice said. “Do you need Fire, Ambulance or Police?”
Rebecca opened her mouth to answer and gasped in agony.
Then she blacked out.
Chapter Thirteen
Marcus was deep into the eBook on somniphobia when the phone rang. “Nine one one,” he said. “Do you need Fire, Police or Ambulance?”
A pitter-patter medley was followed by a soft whimper. Then the line went dead. What the hell?
“We’ve got a dead line,” he called to Leo, giving him the cell phone number.
Leo immediately went into action, activating the number search and tracking. “It’s a cell phone registered to a… Rebecca Kingston, 1832-12th Street, Edmonton. I’m calling the house number now.” Pause. “No answer.”
Marcus called the cell phone. “No answer on her cell either.”
“The home address is registered to a Mr. and Mrs. Wesley Kingston,” Leo said. “Wait! Here we are. A tower outside Edson picked up her last call.”
“Not a very nice night for travelling.” Marcus tried the number again. “She’s not picking up, and I don’t think this is a crank call. Dispatch police and EMS to the tower area. Maybe they’ll see her vehicle. I’ll keep trying her cell phone.”
“Done.”
Marcus swallowed hard. These were the calls he hated. Someone out there needed help, but without a location everyone was blind. He prayed Rebecca Kingston needed minor assistance.
He called the cell phone again. No one picked up.
“Marcus, we have another problem.” Leo’s voice was grim.
“What?”
“Police are sending a squad car to the highway, but EMS and Fire have no available vehicles. They’re still working that apartment fire in Hinton.”
“Shit.”
“Maybe the Kingston lady ran out of gas.”
“Let’s hope.”
He dialed again. One ring… two rings… three—
“Hello?” a woman said in a faint voice.
Marcus stood up and snapped his fingers at Leo. “Mrs. Kingston? Rebecca Kingston? This is 911. You called us a few minutes—”
“Car accident,” came the reply.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure exactly.” The woman started crying.
“Okay, Mrs. Kingston, take a breath. We’re going to help you.”
“Rebecca,” she said. “Call me Rebecca.”
“Okay, Rebecca. Here’s what I need. I need you to tell me how many people are in your vehicle.”
“Three. Me and my son and daughter.”
“Is everyone okay?”
He heard another sob. “No. Colton’s leg is trapped. I don’t know if it’s broken. He says he’s not in pain. He’s in the back seat. Ella too. She’s unconscious and won’t wake up. She has asthma.”
“We have police heading to your area, so hold on. Can you or your son get out of the car?”
“No. My door won’t open. And Colton has the door that sticks in the back.”
“Were you hit on your side of the car?”
“I don’t think so. I recall hearing a grinding sound though. Like my door had crashed against something. I think that’s why I can’t open it.”
“Can you get to the passenger door?”
“No. I’m pinned between my seat and the steering wheel.” She lowered her voice. “I have two broken fingers on my right hand and I think a couple of my ribs are broken.”
Marcus swore beneath his breath. Broken ribs could lead to a punctured lung. “Can you move the seat back?”
“No. I can’t reach the lever. And the one on the side is broken, so I can’t tip the seat back.”
“Did the airbags inflate?”
“No. We were hit from behind.”
“What kind of vehicle do you have?”
“A red Hyundai Accent.”
“Four-door sedan?”
“Yes.”
“Power door locks and windows?”
“Yes.”
He took down all the information and relayed it to police dispatch.