Read Online When Lightning Strikes Twice by Barbara Boswell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Boswell
Ads: Link
“Thank God you’re here!” He sagged against the door, as if he needed support to stay on his feet. “We can’t find one of the kids and Carla is out of control. Way beyond our control. I know this sounds nuts, but she’s commandeered the ambulance. She won’t let anyone in, the paramedics are totally pissed, and who can blame them? Do you think you can calm her down?”
“I can try,” Quint said grimly.
“I’ll park your car for you, miss,” the policeman said to Rachel, this time addressing her with an almost-ingratiating courtliness. “You go with him to the paramedics down there at the ambulance. They need help real bad.”
Immediately, Rachel got out of the car and turned it over to the policeman. She automatically hurried after Quint.
“They’re already on a first-name basis with Carla, not a good sign,” he muttered, racing toward the vehicle with its red lights flaring.
“She commandeered the ambulance?” Rachel was still pondering that. “How? I mean, why?”
“How and why are questions that Carla and Dad seldom have answers for.”
In her brown stacked heel pumps, Rachel found it difficult to match his pace and fell slightly behind him. She was beginning to have second thoughts about her impromptu presence here—and third thoughts as well. The young policeman had gallantly absconded with her car, she didn’t know the Cormacks, and Quint certainly did not want her around. Officially, they weren’t even speaking to each other though they’d just exchanged a few words.
“Careful, she’s armed,” a paramedic hollered to Quint as he drew near to the ambulance.
Rachel arrived moments later. “Carla has a gun?”
She stared at Quint, aghast. What a nightmare this must be for him, and it only seemed to be getting worse! She immediately forgave him for using her and the other Saxons for verbal target practice on the drive over here. So what if he’d taken out his anger, fear, and frustration on the nearest person available? Who happened to be her!
She was sometimes guilty of doing the same thing, Rachel admitted to herself. If asked honestly to describe her own behavior in a crisis, sweetness, patience, and forbearance would not be the first characteristics to leap to mind.
“No, there’s no gun,” the paramedic replied tersely to her query. “But she’s got a loaded syringe in each hand. We tried to give her some sedatives, and she wrestled them away from us. She’s locked herself inside and is threatening to stick anybody who comes near her.” The paramedic wiped his brow. “She won’t let us into our own ambulance and God only knows what she’s doing in there. She won’t talk to anybody, she just keeps screaming.”
The uniformed emergency personnel milled about, looking worried and uncertain. Yet another round of screams came from within the ambulance.
“Somebody do something!” implored a nurse.
Quint began to bang on the back door of the ambulance with his fists. “Carla, open up. Do you hear me? Open this door and put down those damn syringes. Now, Carla!”
The screaming stopped. The sudden cessation of noise was almost disorienting.
And then: “Is Frank with you, Quint?” a female voice shrieked from within. “I called the office earlier and Helen said he wasn’t there. But he was supposed to be; he left for work this morning.” The voice grew higher with hysteria. “Where is he, Quint? Where’s Frank? I was doing the wash when I smelled smoke. Oh God, Quint, they said Dustin is inside the house!”
“Carla, open the door,” Quint’s voice lowered, his tone soft and coaxing. “I know how scared you are, honey. We need to talk. Come on, Carla, let me in.”
The back door swung open and a weeping brunette flungherself into Quint’s arms. “Oh, Quint! What am I going to do? My baby, we have to find my baby!” Carla flung her needle-weapons to the ground and nestled closer to Quint.
The EMTs scrambled to pick up the syringes before climbing
“I can try,” Quint said grimly.
“I’ll park your car for you, miss,” the policeman said to Rachel, this time addressing her with an almost-ingratiating courtliness. “You go with him to the paramedics down there at the ambulance. They need help real bad.”
Immediately, Rachel got out of the car and turned it over to the policeman. She automatically hurried after Quint.
“They’re already on a first-name basis with Carla, not a good sign,” he muttered, racing toward the vehicle with its red lights flaring.
“She commandeered the ambulance?” Rachel was still pondering that. “How? I mean, why?”
“How and why are questions that Carla and Dad seldom have answers for.”
In her brown stacked heel pumps, Rachel found it difficult to match his pace and fell slightly behind him. She was beginning to have second thoughts about her impromptu presence here—and third thoughts as well. The young policeman had gallantly absconded with her car, she didn’t know the Cormacks, and Quint certainly did not want her around. Officially, they weren’t even speaking to each other though they’d just exchanged a few words.
“Careful, she’s armed,” a paramedic hollered to Quint as he drew near to the ambulance.
Rachel arrived moments later. “Carla has a gun?”
She stared at Quint, aghast. What a nightmare this must be for him, and it only seemed to be getting worse! She immediately forgave him for using her and the other Saxons for verbal target practice on the drive over here. So what if he’d taken out his anger, fear, and frustration on the nearest person available? Who happened to be her!
She was sometimes guilty of doing the same thing, Rachel admitted to herself. If asked honestly to describe her own behavior in a crisis, sweetness, patience, and forbearance would not be the first characteristics to leap to mind.
“No, there’s no gun,” the paramedic replied tersely to her query. “But she’s got a loaded syringe in each hand. We tried to give her some sedatives, and she wrestled them away from us. She’s locked herself inside and is threatening to stick anybody who comes near her.” The paramedic wiped his brow. “She won’t let us into our own ambulance and God only knows what she’s doing in there. She won’t talk to anybody, she just keeps screaming.”
The uniformed emergency personnel milled about, looking worried and uncertain. Yet another round of screams came from within the ambulance.
“Somebody do something!” implored a nurse.
Quint began to bang on the back door of the ambulance with his fists. “Carla, open up. Do you hear me? Open this door and put down those damn syringes. Now, Carla!”
The screaming stopped. The sudden cessation of noise was almost disorienting.
And then: “Is Frank with you, Quint?” a female voice shrieked from within. “I called the office earlier and Helen said he wasn’t there. But he was supposed to be; he left for work this morning.” The voice grew higher with hysteria. “Where is he, Quint? Where’s Frank? I was doing the wash when I smelled smoke. Oh God, Quint, they said Dustin is inside the house!”
“Carla, open the door,” Quint’s voice lowered, his tone soft and coaxing. “I know how scared you are, honey. We need to talk. Come on, Carla, let me in.”
The back door swung open and a weeping brunette flungherself into Quint’s arms. “Oh, Quint! What am I going to do? My baby, we have to find my baby!” Carla flung her needle-weapons to the ground and nestled closer to Quint.
The EMTs scrambled to pick up the syringes before climbing
Similar Books
