“Did you use the last of the pills I gave you?” Vic said.
“About fifteen minutes into the detail,” Frank said.
Vic unscrewed the cap and dumped two more into Frank’s hand. “Take these. It will take the edge off.” He watched Frank swallow the pills with obvious dissatisfaction. “I’ve got good news. The Chief is giving you to me exclusively. No more interference from the Staff Infection.”
“Do I still need to request the unmarked car?”
“You’re just like my wife, you know that?” Vic said. “I bust my ass to give her what she bugs me for, and the second I do, she turns around and asks for the next thing. It’s like she has a list and her only job in life is to eliminate the next objective.”
“Like the Terminator,” Frank said.
Vic’s eyes lit up, “Exactly! You made your first movie reference, Frank. I’m like a proud dad. But anyway, I didn’t ask for the car. I figure we can just double up in mine.”
Frank shrugged and slid his arms into his sleeves. “You realize I don’t have much faith in anybody’s ability to stick to their word around here, right?”
“Does that include me?” Vic said.
“That includes everybody.”
A loud, high-pitched tone blared from the overhead speaker. Both men stopped talking and cocked their heads toward the ceiling. “Attention Seventeen cars, be advised there’s a one-vehicle traffic accident. Witnesses are reporting entrapment with multiple injuries. Fire rescue is en route.”
“Shit,” Frank said.
“Not our problem,” Vic said. “We’ve got other things to do.”
“County to Seventeen cars, caller is reporting a Class Five inside the vehicle. Two juveniles are involved.”
“Shit!” both men said. Vic turned and raced through the door with Frank at his heels, desperately trying to buckle his pants. Vic hit the door so hard that it cracked the cheap stucco wall with its handle. He tried digging in his pants pocket for the keys to his car as he ran. “Where are my keys?”
“We’ll take my car,” Frank shouted. “You don’t have any lights or siren. We’ll get there faster.”
Frank unlocked the patrol car and Vic leapt into the passenger seat, squeezing against Frank’s patrol bag and the plastic caddie hooked onto the seat. “Move that stuff,” Frank said.
“Screw it, just drive,” Vic said. He fumbled with the microphone, trying to get it free of the radio. “County, we’re enroute. Any further details?”
Frank threw on the lights and sirens, drowning out the radio dispatcher. Vic frantically pressed the volume button, trying to make out what was being said. “Just go,” he said, sinking the radio back into the holder.
Main Street was thick with traffic along all four-lanes. Frank pushed the cars out of his way with the wail of his siren and threat of his front bumper. “Christ, don’t let it be a kid,” Vic whispered. “I just had a dead kid two months ago, and I can’t take another one.”
Frank looked at the detective and saw that his face was white. Vic’s lip was trembling. “It’ll be okay, man. Just calm down.”
“I just don’t want it to be a little kid. Please, God,” he muttered. “Please.”
Frank peeled around the corner to see a crowd of people standing around a car in the middle of the road. A massive tree branch dropped across the roof, sunk below the door windows. People parted, except for the ones who were trying to rip open the rear doors. “Oh, Christ, it looks bad,” Vic said.
Frank slammed his foot on the brakes so hard that the tires smoked. Vic flung his door open before they came to a stop and was nearly thrown headfirst into the crowd of onlookers, hanging onto the doorjamb by his fingertips. Vic scrambled out of the car and charged through the crowd, sticking his face against the window to see two little girls sitting in the backseat.
Both of them, blonde haired and beautiful.
Six years old at the most.
Both of them, sheet-white and staring back at him with blank expressions. The smaller girl had a large shard of glass sunk deep in her cheek, an inch beneath her eye. The roof was crushed directly in front of them, blocking their view of the front seat.
Both silent. Wide-eyed.
Alive.
A mangled hand was stretched across the steering wheel, fingers curled and intertwined. It was the only thing visible under the massive bulk of crushed aluminum. Frank came running up to Vic’s side, shouting, “How bad is it?”
“Two girls in the back,” Vic shouted. “They need an ambulance, and they need to get the hell out of this car.”
“What about the driver?” Frank stopped running when he saw the damage. He looked at the hand and crushed roof and said, “Oh.”
“Help me get the back door open,” Vic said.
“The fire department’s almost here. They’ve got the tools to-”
Vic stuck his fingers into the door crease and started pulling. He put his foot against the rear fender and screamed with effort, pulling so hard that his face turned purple. “Come on!” he screamed.
Frank grabbed the top of the door, prying it away from the frame just as Vic lost his grip and the door cinched shut on the tips of Frank’s fingers. Vic immediately wedged his fingers into the crease again and yanked, allowing Frank to free himself. “I told you to wait for the goddamn Fire Company!” Frank shouted, staring at his swollen fingers.
“No, goddamn it!” Vic pulled like an animal trying to free itself from a snare. Each time he pulled, the door tightened around his own fingers, crushing them, but he would not give up.
Frank stuck his fingers back into the top of the door, “Being your partner sucks!”
The two of them finally wrenched the door open and were able bend the hinges enough to create a foot wide gap. Vic ducked his head into the opening and said, “Can you girls come out of there on your own?” Neither of them moved. He held out his hand and said, “It’s okay. You’ll be safe out here. Come on, honey. It’s all right.”
The girl with the glass in her cheek looked at her sister. The sister began to cry.
Frank drove back to the station, glancing down at the tips of his fingers every so often to see how much more they’d swollen and turned purple. He backed the patrol car into its spot and slammed the shifter into park. “This is just what I needed, Vic. Thanks a whole hell of a lot. I’m already dealing with my freaking knee, and now all my fingers are probably broken too, all because you couldn’t wait for the goddamn fire company! Everything everybody says about you is true! You’re a hot-shot, self-righteous, glory seeking bullshit artist! I’m done!”
Vic did not speak. His own fingers were bloody and raw as he reached for the glove compartment, scratching at some unseen spot on the surface.
Frank threw up his hands and said, “Whatever. Just sit here, then.” He got out of the car and threw the door shut. He walked into the station and headed for the emergency kit hanging on the wall to break open an ice pack. The cold stung his fingers, but he pressed them into the squishy bag. He waited a few minutes, then walked back to the rear door and looked out to see that Vic was still sitting in the police car, not moving.
A few moments later, Frank opened the driver’s side door and sat back down. He held the ice pack to Vic and said, “Here. Take it.”
Vic took the bag and pressed his fingers down into it, wincing. “Thanks,” he said.
Frank waved his hand and looked out at the parking lot. “I missed a lot while I was out, I guess. We had a dead kid?”
Vic nodded, but did not speak.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Vic shook his head.
“That must’ve sucked. I hate seeing bad things happen to kids. I guess you’ve seen a lot more of that then most guys around here,” Frank said.