The Fragile Things, page 7
“Great,” she exclaimed, banging both hands on the steering wheel. “I don’t even know how to get there!”
“Where’s the camp. . .what’s the name?” Cindy said as she climbed in.
“Um, it’s Lebanon Valley something. . .hosted by Moravian University.”
The paperwork for the tuition with the letterhead was on her desk back home. Her anxiety mounting at this point, she pulled out her cell phone and began to search for the name of the camp.
“I’ll go with you. You can’t go alone.”
“No, no, I’ll be fine.” Sarah continued scrolling. “Ah, here it is.”
“What is it?” Cindy asked. “I’ll plug it in. Is the GPS in the glove compartment?”
“Yes, it’s right there. Okay, it’s 1200 Main Street, Bethlehem.”
“Hold on.” Cindy pulled out the black box and typed the information into the GPS. “Okay, it’s in.”
Sarah backed out of the condo’s parking lot as the GPS voice began communicating.
“Thanks for coming with me today,” Sarah said. “But I’d better drive up there myself.”
“What? No moral support?” Cindy made a face.
“Thanks, I appreciate it, Cin, but I’m just too rattled right now. I wouldn’t be good company, you know? And I don’t want to burden you or anyone with this.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ll be fine.”
Cindy sighed. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
On the way back to drop off Cindy, Sarah’s mind flew in a dozen directions. Her thoughts swirled as anxiety ripped her heart. Emily, where are you? What happened? Sarah’s heart bled as her thoughts turned into prayers the rest of the way to Cindy’s house. As Sarah pulled up, Cindy said, “Well, I’ll be calling you in an hour to see if you’ve gotten there safely.” She opened the door and got out. “Keep me abreast of your progress,” she said through the open window.
“I will.” Sarah revved the motor, impatiently.
“Go, honey. . .I’ll be praying they find her.”
“Appreciate it, Cin, thanks,” she called out the window. Sarah turned at the next intersection and made her way through the back streets to I-476. From there, she followed the signs to the Northeast Extension for the hour-long ride to the campus in Bethlehem. Her heartbeat ticked a notch higher as she drove a bit faster than normal while she fiddled with the radio to hear the latest traffic conditions. Once on the Extension, the road appeared clear and up-to-speed in both directions. She pressed her foot to the pedal. The ache in her heart over her missing daughter pressed in like a dull knife.
Chapter Nineteen
The Rosewood Café hummed with an understated vibe. Soft lighting and the nostalgia of Big Band era tunes gently piped in lent to the taste of an older crowd blended with a few millennials.
“Just a sec,” Cindy called out as she raised her index finger while maneuvering a cart topped with entrees to a table of locals from the insurance company across the street. “Here you go, fellas.” Cindy handed each of them plates of hot roast beef sandwiches, sides of sauerkraut, French fries, and mugs of draft beer. She wheeled the cart back and brought a carafe of coffee to another regular, a retired oil worker, who came into the café every weekday precisely at 12:05 p.m. and stayed for an hour for as long as Cindy could remember. “Anything else, Ches?”
“Nope, I’m good, hon.” He plopped down cash on top of the check lying on the table with a generous tip for Cindy included, as always.
“Sounds good. Have a lovely. . .see you tomorrow,” she replied.
Cindy tended to another patron signaling for his check, and then went back to the kitchen. On the way, she caught a glimpse of a familiar customer coming into the café.
“Nicky!” she greeted him with a smile. “Long time no see. Where ya been, guy?”
“Been around,” he said with a half-shrug.
“Well, I musta missed ya. What’ll it be today, your usual?”
“Sounds about right,” he said with a nod and sat himself at the end of the counter.
She scribbled his order down and gave it to the man behind the counter before reaching into the ice bin for a bottled water. She felt Nick’s pain having understood the hurt of what broken love can do and gave him a sympathetic smile. He didn’t seem to notice. A few minutes later she placed his sandwich in front of him along with the bottle and a glass. While he ate, she hesitated whether to bring up Sarah. Though later, even before he finished, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Did you hear about Sarah?”
“My Sarah—um, well, not my—”
“I know, I heard. So sorry about what happened between you guys.”
Nick shrugged again. “It is what it is. Crap happens, right?”
“Nicky, I wanted you to know something that happened—to Sarah—well, to her daughter, that is.”
“Emily?”
Cindy nodded. “She’s missing.”
“Missing”—his face folded—“as in a runaway?”
“Oh, I doubt it, no. . .well, no one knows, really. It only just happened.”
Nick sat up a bit straighter and put the last bit of the sandwich down on the plate.
“The camp director just notified her. We were together when she got the call.”
“Where’s the camp?”
“Bethlehem. It’s a hockey camp up at Moravian University.”
Nick’s eyes grew large as he stared at the TV hanging above the bar. Cindy followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of the faces of two young teenage girls flash across the screen.
“That’s Emily!” Cindy cried, pointing to the TV. “And another girl. . .is she missing, too? Did they find them or. . .?” she questioned as she hustled over to the remote lying on the counter and used it to turn the sound up just as the segment ended. “Oh, for crying out loud. I hope they were found!”
Nick stood up and pulled out his wallet. He plopped down two bills. “Keep the rest, Cindy. . .gotta run.”
“You’re in a hurry,” she said, collecting the cash. “You working today?”
He bolted for the door and with a wave called back, “Could say that, yeah.”
Nick hopped into his truck and immediately Googled the address for Moravian University. In a matter of minutes, the GPS map lasered in on the best route to Bethlehem. He stared at the screen. What am I doing? Is this a fool’s mission? She could be anywhere by now. He didn’t know how he’d go about finding Emily in that big town. He only knew that he wanted to find her—needed to find her safe and alive. It was more than just being a hero; he’d do anything to make amends for any undoing between himself and Sarah. What he did wrong to get her upset enough to call it quits on their relationship was anyone’s guess. She complained a lot about his work and his smoking, but it couldn’t have been just that. When she dropped the bomb on him, he couldn’t sleep or eat for days. Meantime, she’d given him the incentive to quit his life-long smoking habit. While he hadn’t succeeded yet, he was trying. The break-up was good for one thing, at least. He didn’t owe her a thing, really. So, why was he so determined to be her hero now?
Several miles into the trip, traffic began to slow on the Northeast Extension until a mile before Quakertown where it came to a complete stop. He drummed his fingers on the wheel and steeled his eyes ahead toward a sea of brake lights before picking up his phone and pressing speed dial.
“Traffic Center, Tony speaking.”
“Tony, this is Nick Durham,” he said to Tony Nixon, Director of Operations at Metro Traffic in Philadelphia.
“Officer Durham. Been awhile. What’s the good word?”
“Yeah, I thought you could tell me.” He half-heartedly chuckled under his breath. “I’m on the Northeast Extension just past Lansdale. . .almost to Quakertown. Need to get to Bethlehem.”
“Oh, boy. Then you’ve got a problem, sir.”
Nick cursed under his breath. “What’s the problem?”
“Well, the road’s been closed for about an hour just below Quakertown. Overturned tractor trailer and a Subaru, I think. Squashed it like a bug.”
Nick’s insides twisted at the image now plastered in his mind. Subaru?
“Happen to know what color it was?”
“Ahhh, let’s see. Lemme check. . .um. . .unfortunately, we don’t have a camera on the Northeast Extension, or I could zoom in on it, but pilot 402 was recently up there and. . .wait. . .ok, yeah, let me check. Hold on, be right with you.”
After sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, Nick’s lack of patience got the better of him. He fussed and fidgeted in the seat, more than annoyed at his predicament. Rushing to aid his former girlfriend to win her over was a losing man’s game. Yet here he was. He silently cursed his bad luck.
“Sorry to hold you, Officer. You still there?”
“Yeah, Tony. I’m here.”
“Okay . . . I was told it was a red Subaru and an 18-wheeler. Had to send a Medevac unit to the scene.” Nick’s heart sank at the thought the car may have belonged to Sarah. “So, that’s the latest. . .” Nick sat stunned to hear the news. “Officer?”
“Yeah, Tony. Thanks for your trouble.”
“No problem, sir. The lanes just re-opened, so the backlog should be clearing out, but it could be a while before you’re up-to-speed. Hang in there.”
“Okay, thanks for the information. You guys do some great work.”
“It’s just our job, sir, but thanks.”
Gripping the wheel as though willing the car to fly up and over the back-up, Nick gritted his teeth. Maybe this was just some kind of heavenly signal to leave well enough alone. The relationship was over. There were other women; Sarah Harding wasn’t the only beauty left in the world. He considered turning around and just giving up the chase. This was what it was. A chase. Although he cared deeply for her—whether she survived the accident or not was important to him—who’s to say what would come of it? What was the use in attempting to get involved with Sarah again? It would just lead to more heartache.
As Nick sat waiting in the backed-up traffic, he noticed a layer of dust piled up on the dashboard. He reached inside the overstuffed glove compartment for a tissue to wipe the surface clean. With traffic at a standstill, he used the time to better organize the contents and pulled out old receipts and papers that he should have tossed by now. After tidying up the side console as well, he then reached under the driver’s seat where he kept a pack of cigarettes. With everything going on in his life, the stress he bore right now lent a longing for the calming effects of tobacco. He pulled out a lone cigarette and inhaled the inside of the empty package. With a sense of guilt, he reached for the lighter and lit up. The savory essence of the smokey warmth inside his mouth tasted delicious. In less than sixty seconds, the cigarette lowered his stress. As he let the smoke seep out from his lips, a measure of regret crept in. He fought the subtle urge to flick the rest of the cigarette out the window but lost the battle.
Up ahead, the red tail lights of the car in front disappeared, signaling traffic was moving. Thank God! Nick pressed the accelerator fast and hard to make up for lost time. He couldn’t go fast enough and was tempted to put on the siren. Even though he wasn’t clocked in for duty, this was police work—official or not.
Chapter Twenty
“I’ve begun the Hydromorphone,” the onboard nurse announced as she checked the IV.
“The patient is secure, sir.” The paramedic turned to the pilot. “Any cautions?”
“No cautions. All clear. All instruments in the green.”
“Fuel?”
“One hour thirty minutes.”
“Two to fly.”
“Okay.”
“We’re in flight mode. EMS-371 is lifting. Four souls on board. Inbound for Lehigh Valley.”
The technician studied Sarah as she lay unconscious on the gurney. “Patient looks to be in her mid-to-late thirties. Doesn’t look good.”
****
“Emergency trauma two,” the lead nurse at Lehigh Valley hospital called out as the EMS team bolted through the double doors.
“Left ac joint and a 14-gauge on her left hand,” the paramedic announced. “With 80 systolic. A lotta blood lost, I’m afraid.”
“Pain meds administered?” the lead nurse questioned.
“Hydromorphone—2.5mL.”
“Okay, got it. Any family on board?”
“No, no one,” the 2nd paramedic replied. “No wedding ring, either.”
The emergency trauma team got into action like a choreographed dance routine. One assistant placed a chest tube while the other drew blood.
“Her breathing is decreased,” the lead surgeon announced. “We’ll probably need a CT but not until her vitals are steady. Keep me posted.” The doctor continued to examine Sarah. “Doesn’t appear to be any brain hemorrhage but you never know; we’ll need to keep a close eye out.”
“Doctor, her vitals are steady.”
“Airway?”
“All open, sir.”
“Get a scan.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Earlier that morning 6:31 a.m.
The sun crept over the Lehigh River as Emily opened her eyes. In the muggy heat, she cringed at seeing her fingers so puckered—the skin having shriveled overnight from lying in the water. Mud soaked through her wet clothes as a numbing cold pressed in. Where am I? It took a moment to process what happened. The back of her head ached. She winced at the pain. Touching her head now, the lump felt like a walnut. She strained to sit up but was too weak. As the sun peaked out through the trees lining the river, Emily tried, once more, to rise up out of the mud-soaked water where she’d been half-submerged. With one elbow on the muddy ground, combined with all the effort she could muster, she finally propped herself up. Despite the pleasant early morning warmth of June, she shivered in her wet clothes.
Nearly faint with dizziness, Emily took her first step out of the lapping river and then another. That was as far as she could go. She plopped down on the embankment. After a minute, she slowly turned her head to look up and down the river. Would there be anyone to help? She laid back down on the ground. Her mind reeled back to the hours before when she ran away from the strange man on the street. Did he catch Hayley or did she escape?
Emily struggled to move again. A dull ache throbbed in her head and a foggy veil shrouded her vision. She continued to fight with every ounce of energy in her weakened state to move off the river bank and onto dry ground. Through the fog that hung over her, the world looked dim and cloudy as though the aperture setting on a camera lens was smudged. A dusty sun hovered through the trees, and the grayish river barely sparkled in the morning light. Cold and frightened, she perked up at the sound of faint voices coming from down the river. Someone to the rescue?
“Help!” she cried out on the edge of the bank as a boat cruised by. In vain, she called again, but her voice barely made a dent in the atmosphere of happily chirping birds amid the rushing water. Apparently, the fisherman on board were too distracted with finding fish than picking up her distress call. Disheartened, she waved one hand in the air as far as she could reach upwards in an effort to send a signal. By the time she raised it, the boat had already drifted off into the shadows.
Chapter Twenty-two
An orderly wheeled Sarah into room #408 at Lehigh Valley Hospital, her life being spared miraculously from the tragic car accident where she suffered injuries that left her with a broken arm, a concussion, and internal bleeding. Her race with time caused the collision with an 18-wheeler that ended up pinning and totally crushing her car on the Northeast Extension. All lanes were shut down for an hour while they cleared the debris to make room for the Medevac helicopter to land and transport the injured.
“Is there anything more you need right now?” the nurse asked.
“I need. . .to find. . .my daughter.” Sarah barely managed to get the words out.
The nurse gave Sarah a kind smile and patted the bedsheet. “Was she in the car with you?”
“No. . .no, she’s at camp” Or was.
The nurse spoke again, but Sarah couldn’t make out her words. The room spun and turned dark. She then fell asleep under the heavy sedation. While sedated, she envisioned Emily caught in a well, and the firemen who came to rescue her could only hear her calling from deep below. No one could see her.
When Sarah awoke, reality gobsmacked her once more. Oh, God, my daughter. . .where are you? Later while lying in bed, Sarah’s desperation to find Emily weighed on her mind as though this were all a bad dream. Between the pain killers flushed into her veins through the IV along with the oral meds, Sarah didn’t know whether she was coming or going, and the nightmare wouldn’t end. The image of the accident came to the forefront as flashes of the roadway appeared, taunting her. She vividly recalled how she managed to squeeze between the concrete barrier wall to her right and the massive 18-wheeler truck to her left in the adjacent lane. A chill ran through her even though the hospital’s bed clothes kept the room warm as toast. Her thinking was that if she could make it past the truck—she needed to take every advantage to make haste to find her daughter—it would have been a good thing. Pressing the accelerator, Sarah tensed up as her eyes darted between the wall and the huge trucks tires. . .back and forth. . .wall. . .tires. . .wall. . .tires. . .she kept a steady eye, willing herself to remain safely in between. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining and the roadway was dry. She gunned down again, the speedometer reading 70. . .75. . .80. . .Still sandwiched between the wall and the truck, Sarah held her breath until the moment of shock hit. She made a drastic error in judgment and realized she was in trouble when the truck’s tires slowly crossed the white lines. The truck was drifting into her lane! The sound of crunching metal impacting forcefully was the last she heard.
