Eloise Kramer couldn’t tell him. She lay on the wet grass, her hair smeared across her face, unconscious—right where he’d scattered the ashes, he realized.
But he didn’t dwell on that. He knew only what he had to do next, and after that …
He stooped and gathered her up. She stirred a little, then clung to him like a frightened child, her arms around his neck.
“Dad … dy,” she said, and she may have been crying.
He carried her into the house.
chapter
20
S
he was a svelte, young-bodied girl and should have been easy to carry, but she went totally limp and offered no more help—no arms around his neck to support some of her weight, no curling against him as he supported her behind her back and under her knees. No, she just hung over his arms like a big sack of dog food, arms dangling like empty sleeves from a laundry basket and her head—oh, her head! It was like trying to balance a bowling ball against his shoulder with no free hand to hold it there. He feared for her neck and had to stop and lurch rearward several times to get it back in place. By the time he reached the side door his arms and back were sending him warnings.
Then he discovered he had no way to grab and turn the doorknob. Somehow—and it did not go smoothly—he got her flopped over his left shoulder so he could open the door with his right hand and get inside, trying not to bang her dangling arms and head against the door frame or the walls.
He made it through the kitchen, his wet soles squeaking on the tile floor, then into the living room, where he gingerly let her unfold from his shoulder and flop on the couch, cradling her head lest she hurt her neck. He put a pillow under her head. One leg still hung off the side of the couch. He lifted the leg as if it were crystal and set it neatly next to the other. Her clothes were wet from lying in the grass. Her shoes were smudging the couch. Little running shoes. Size six, probably.
Cute.
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
looked
comfortable. 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.”
“How about some for instances?”
He could tell she didn’t want to humor him. “Well, for instance, you might think you actually see her, or you could even see someone else and think she looks just like Mandy.”
Eloise’s eyes focused—on him.
Oh, good grief.
He looked away from her and spoke into the phone, “What exactly makes you think I would see something like that?”
“Dane?”
“Dane?” said Shirley.
“What?” he asked Kessler as he looked in Shirley’s direction.
Kessler said, “You have someone there with you now, don’t you?”
Shirley, Ron, and Steve were watching Eloise look at Dane. Eloise was staring as if trying to make sure who he was. Dane gave her a weak little wave and smiled. He couldn’t see her smile through the oxygen mask, but her eyes smiled with relief and she sank back against her pillow.
Kessler asked, “Who does she look like?”
Dane studied Eloise’s face. “She looks … What the heck kind of question is that?”
“Does she look like Mandy? Be honest.”
“I don’t think this is a good time—”
“This is a very good time. It gives you a chance to see exactly what I warned you about.”
They were taking off the oxygen mask—he’d lived with that image, but this time she was young and alive, not burned and dying. She and the medics were talking.
“Dane? Can you hear me?”
“I need to get off the phone.”
“What’s her name?”
Okay. Kessler had crossed the line. “That is none of your business.”
“Dane, she isn’t Mandy. You have to realize that.” She didn’t sound as if
she
believed it. “She doesn’t even look like Mandy. You just think she does. Did you hear me?”
Gal, either you’re crazy or … I think it’s you.
“I’ll call you later.”
He hung up.
“No! No hospital!” Eloise said with a moan, still under the heavy influence of whatever it was.
“We just need to be sure you’re okay, just get you checked over,” said Ron.
That upset her more. “Oh, no you don’t!” she muttered, her eyes barely open, her neck like a rag doll. “I know who why yam! I’m Meloise Kramer and I’ve live here all my life and you cann take me to da hosp’al!” She groped about blindly, trying to find something. “Where my wallet?”
Dane stepped up while Shirley handed Eloise her coat. “She’s Eloise Kramer. She works at McCaffee’s, that little coffee shop in Coeur d’Alene.”
“Has she taken any drugs?” Ron asked.
Eloise dug out her wallet and flashed her driver’s license at them. “I’m Meloise Kramer. Says so ride ’ere.”
Ron checked her license and told Steve, “She’s nineteen.”
Steve gave a nod of acknowledgment.
Dane asked Ron and Steve, “Is she all right?”
Ron answered, “Her vitals are fine, but she’s doped to the gills on something.”
“Booze?”
Ron shook his head. “Some kind of sedative. That could be a needle mark on her neck. Did
you
give her anything?”
Well now, how was that for a blunt question? Dane could feel himself bristling, but he held himself in check. “No. I wouldn’t know what to give her. She was like this when I found her.”
“Found her where?”
“Outside in my pasture.”
“How’d she get there?”
“She ran. Some guy—”
“No!” said Eloise, waving dazedly in Dane’s face. “Doan! Doan lettem take me.”
Don’t let them take me.
The look in her eyes broke him open, her fear knifed through him as if it were his own, as if she could have cried those words the last time but no one listened; as if he should have cried out for her but didn’t because Dr. Kessler and her white coats knew so much better, controlled everything, pronounced her dead, and wheeled her through a door that closed between them forever.
He’d never known the man he was right here and now, never felt this kind of anguish. He suspected that seeing her face and hearing the echoes of Kessler’s voice could be making him irrational, but in this moment he wasn’t about to trust a doctor or a hospital. He leaned, lifted her chin with a fingertip, and met her eyes. “Eloise, you do not have to go to the hospital if you don’t want to.” He looked at Ron and Steve. “Isn’t that right?”