“Trust me,” Emily interrupted. “Megan and Scott aren't working some devious scheme together. Megs might have her problems, but I can't believe she'd leave chicken wire in the field or start a fire, even by mistake. She's been like, working on the farm all her life. And, as for the cows, she couldn't have left two gates open by mistake.”
“So, you're thinking it's Scott?” Katie asked.
Emily turned to Katie, loosely holding the steering wheel. “You're missing something, Detective Katie. Scott would never hurt Megan's mom, even if she doesn't trust him. You don't know Scott like I do. He's, like, you know, one of the good guys.”
“Maybe.” Katie had to admit, she liked Scott too, even if she didn't know him very well. She did know, however, that sometimes the nice guys fool you. She bent over her notes, trying to sort things out.
Emily leaned sideways, as if to read Katie's notes.
“Here's something to think about. If Cliff is such a nice guy, how come he tries to keep Megan away from her friends? If you ask me⦔
A quick intake of breath and Emily slammed on the brakes. Katie catapulted toward the windshield.
She stared out at three solid-brown animals with sharp horns. Then the seatbelt yanked her back.
Emily wrenched on the steering wheel, and the truck skittered sideways. It lurched violently one way and then the other, threatening to flip right over. Katie was thrown hard against Emily; then she tossed violently against Rusty, jamming him against the door. She was jerked back and slammed against Emily again.
Then came the thud. Loud and sickening. A ton of metal against a ton of flesh. But it didn't end there. The air filled with a horrible moan of fear and pain, and the grinding, crunching shriek of metal folding against itself.
At last it stopped. Everything stopped. No movement. No sound. Only smell. The truck cab filled with the dry smell of dust and the stomach-churning stench of gas.
Everything was hazy, seen through a blanket of dust and smoke. “Rusty?” Katie said. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so. We gotta get out of here.”
Katie undid her seatbelt. “Emily?”
There was no answer.
“Emily!” Katie shouted. “We need to get out of the truck!”
But Emily was slumped over the wheel. Her arms hung limply to each side. And then Katie saw the damage to the truck. On the driver's side, the engine hood had buckled and bent in toward the steering wheel. The driver's door was caved in so badly there was no way it would ever open again.
Panic made her heart pound. What should she do?
What if the truck caught fire? She swallowed, undid Emily's seat belt, and pulled her toward the middle of the truck.
“Is she okay?” Rusty asked, his voice small and frightened.
“I think so. Can you get out? I need some room.”
Rusty pushed open the door, tumbled outside and turned around to help. Katie slid toward the open door, easing Emily's limp body sideways on the seat.
But she couldn't move the older girl any further.
“Take her shoulders,” Katie said and slipped down to the floor.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Katie was amazed at how calm she felt at this moment. She did not want to spend another second inside this truck, but she could not leave Emily. So she set about doing what she had to do.
Rusty slipped his hands around Emily's arms and pulled gently while Katie tried to help by easing Emily's legs toward the door. Emily was small and slight; they should be able to move her easily. But they couldn't budge her.
“I think her leg's stuck,” Katie said. She squeezed into the space below the steering wheel and reached for Emily's left foot somewhere beyond the brake pedal. She felt rather than saw it jammed between the bent metal door and the truck floor.
The smell in the cab was stronger now, a sickening stench of gas, oil and smoke.
What can I do? Katie wanted to scream, but she needed to stay calm. She took one deep breath, let it out, and an idea came to her. It had worked for her once, why not for Emily?
Katie fumbled to reach the laces of Emily's sneaker.
She loosened them and worked Emily's foot out of her shoe. Then she wrapped both arms around Emily's legs. “Okay,” she said, “let's get her out of here.”
Between them they eased Emily's limp form out of the truck. They carried her along the road and laid her gently on the dry brown grass of the roadside. The ancient blue truck continued to belch out smoke. Churned-up dust settled over it like dirty snow. Two fat brown rear ends were disappearing at an amazing clip down the road. The third cow could not be seen.
Rusty looked one way and then the other on the straight, narrow, lonely road. “We need help,” he said.
“My cell phone!” Katie checked her pocket. It was empty. She ran back to the truck and spotted her phone and notebook lying in the dirt near the truck's open door. She picked up the phone and ran back to join Rusty.
“You calling nine-one-one?” he asked.
“Yes. No. I don't know. We're so far from anything out here. I'm calling Aunt Margaret. She'll know what to do.”
She pushed Redial, glad now that she hadn't phoned Sheila after ringing Aunt Margaret's number last night.
The phone rang three times.
“Please pick up,” Katie whispered.
The answering machine clicked on. Katie took two quick breaths, waiting to leave a message, wondering what to say. After the beep she yelled, “Help! Aunt Margaret, if you're there please answer!”
She was thinking what to say next, what to do, when she heard a click. “What's going on?” The grouchy voice was unmistakable.
Megan.
“Is Aunt Margaret there?” Katie demanded.
“Would I answer if Mother was here? So, this morning she tells me to make lunch for everyone, like
I have nothing better to do. Then, Mother doesn't bother to show up, and they grab all the food and take off, and I'm left with a disgusting mess to clean up.”
Katie's thoughts whirled. She needed Aunt Margaret, needed someone else to take over; she didn't want to think anymore. The last thing she needed was her weird cousin ranting on about her troubles. Maybe she should hang up and call 911⦠“So what's your big problem?” Megan asked.
Katie glanced at Emily, lying beside the road, Rusty sitting awkwardly beside her. “We hit a cow!”
“What?”
“A cow, in Emily's truck. She's hurtâbad!”
“The cow?”
“Huh?” Was Megan out of her mind? Then Katie realized that maybe she wasn't making much sense either. “No, not the cow. Well, yes, the cow too. But it's Emily! She's unconscious. And we don't know what to do!”
The silence seemed to last forever. Finally Megan said, “Where are you?”
“We're⦔ Katie bit her lip. Her heart pounded so fast and so loud in her ears it interfered with her brain. Where were they? Where were they? She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forced herself to calm down, to speak clearly. “We had an accident with a cow. Emily's truck is smashed up. I think the cow's dead, and Emily is hurt. She needs help.”
“But, where are you?” Megan yelled.
“I don't know!”
“Oh, come on!” Megan spat out the words. Then she paused to draw in a slow noisy breath. When she spoke again her voice sounded so calm Katie thought for a second that Aunt Margaret had taken over. “Okay then, tell me which way you went when you left here.”
“Okay. Yes. I know. It's the road that goes to Scott's place.”
There was a moment's hesitation, and then, “Good, I'll bring Mom's car. I'll be there in a few minutes. Stay with Emily. Try to keep calm for her sakeâ¦and, um, make sure she's warm enough.”
Katie closed her phone. Her legs shook so violently she had to sit down.
They waited. One on each side of Emily, the two cousins sat at the edge of the road and waited. Time slowed down. They listened for the sound of an approaching car, but the entire world had gone silent.
Emily moaned softly. Her head twisted from side to side, but her eyes remained closed. She moaned again. “My leg,” she whispered.
Katie leaned close. She placed a gentle hand on Emily's shoulder and felt her tremble beneath her fingertips. “You're okay,” she said, trying to sound confident. “We called for help. Megan will be here in a minute.” She looked down the road, stretching straight and empty to the horizon. Where was Megan?
“Listen,” Rusty whispered.
So faint she wasn't sure at first whether it was only her imagination, Katie heard the wail of sirens.
“Megan must have called nine-one-one,” she said. The sound grew louder, closer, until Katie sat back on her heels, confident help would arrive in a matter of seconds.
Emily gave a soft gasp of pain and reached up blindly and grabbed Katie's hand. Emily's fingers, cold and clammy, wrapped tightly around Katie's hand. “Are you cold?” Katie asked, but Emily didn't answer, simply squeezed harder.
“How could she be cold?” Rusty asked. “It's burning hot out here!”
“Megan said to keep her warm. Rusty, I think there's a blanket covering the truck seat. Can you go get it?”
Rusty ran to the truck and returned with an old brown blanket that smelled of grease and smoke.
He laid it over Emily. Then he straightened and looked down the road. “Where'd they go?”
The sirens had stopped.
“Hey, wait! Here comes a car,” Rusty said. “I think it's Aunt Margaret!”
Moments later the rusty little car skidded to a stop and Megan jumped out of the driver's side. She ran and dropped to her knees beside Emily. “Em,” she cried, “I'm so sorry!”
Emily's eyes fluttered. “My leg hurts,” she gasped through clenched teeth.
Cliff climbed out of the passenger side. He glanced down at Emily. “She'll be all right,” he said. “The ambulance will be here soon.” He continued toward the blue truck.
“I didn't call nine-one-one,” Katie admitted.
“I did,” Megan said, “before I went outside. But they were already on their way.”
“That's impossible.”
“No.” Megan swallowed. “It's not.”
Katie glanced sharply at her cousin, surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears.
“Emily will be all right,” Katie said.
“It's not just Em. Something's wrong with Mom too. GJ called nine-one-one from the field. Then he phoned me right after you did. He's bringing her back to the house, and the ambulance stopped to pick her up first.”
“What happened?”
“I thinkâ¦I don't know. Something about the rock picker. They told me to come here and look after Emily.”
Suddenly the air split open with a thunderous bang, so loud it hurt the ears and seemed to echo off the land itself. Cliff emerged from behind the truck, a rifle at his side. “It was one of our cows all right,” he said.
Gently he took Megan's hand and raised her to her feet. “Don't worry. It wasn't your fault. I know you wouldn't have left the gates open again. Scott's behind this, just like he's behind everything else that's happened around here lately. He's driving your Mom crazy and making you look bad. It's high time I did something about it.”
“No.” Megan shook her head. “Scott would never hurt us. It's me. I mess up everything I touch! I was supposed to do the rock picking, not my mother! Everything that's happened is my fault! You should have let me leave when I wanted to!”
Cliff shook his head. “I'm not giving up on you, Megan. Don't you see? That's exactly what Scott wants. He hangs around, pretending to be your best friend. Then, when you're not looking, he stabs you in the back.”
Tears streamed down Megan's face. “But why?” she whispered.
The sirens started up again. Minutes later a police car, followed closely by an ambulance, roared toward them. Behind the ambulance was their grandparents' shiny silver truck.
The sirens died as the police car slowed and crept past the kids to stop at Emily's shattered truck. When the ambulance pulled up near Emily, Megan ran toward it. “How's my mother?” she shouted. “I need to see her!”
Gram appeared quite suddenly, out of nowhere. She placed both hands on Megan's shoulders. “Megan,” she soothed, “your mom's having some chest pains. Right now the paramedics are giving her oxygen.” With an arm around Megan's shoulders, Gram led her toward their truck. “Come on, we'll take you to the hospital. You can see her there. Let the paramedics do their work, and I'm sure she'll be fine.”
Katie sat on the roadside and watched everyone as if she were in a dream. A nightmare, she thought; her world had gone completely crazy. Emily, hurt, on a stretcher now, was being loaded into the ambulance.
Something wrong with Aunt Margaret. A cow dead. Police milling around Emily's truck, taking measurements, making marks on the dusty road. Cliff pulled one of the officers aside and spoke quietly to him. Katie strained to hear but managed only an occasional word such as “Scott,” “threatening phone calls,” and “dangerous.”
Her stomach turned over. She should have figured things out by now. She should have done something to prevent all of this from happening. What kind of detective was she anyway? The answer was right there in front of her eyes, she was sure of it, but still she couldn't quite see it. You're missing something Detective Katie, Emily had told her less than a half hour ago. And Emily was right. But what? What was she missing?
Was Megan as forgetful and dangerous as she seemed?
Was Scott out to get revenge?
What was Cliff's role in all of this?
Katie's head spun. Her shoulder and stomach hurt where the seat belt had yanked her back. Her neck ached. She could not think clearly.
Katie ached from head to heels, and her eyes were so heavy she could barely keep them open. If she weren't so hungry she would crawl into bed right now. It was late evening. Katie and Rusty had been examined at the Humboldt hospital and released.