in the ambulance. I can fill out any paperwork you have.”
“Here.” He harrumphed and handed her a clipboard and pen. “I gotta talk to the cop.” He lumbered off. Quinn quickly filled out the form and signed it, then left it on the seat and hurried back to Nick, who leaned against the Charger, waiting for her.
He looked grim and pocketed the business card she handed him. “Every record created from this thing is going to flash a trail.”
“I know. Police report, tow, ambulance, hospital.” She looked back to where Sam sat on the ambulance bumper. “At least it happened here, not right outside of Benton Harbor.” They were far enough away that whoever had done this—still assuming it had been deliberate—wouldn’t be able to guess their destination.
“Whatever. We’ll deal.” Nick gave the back of her neck a little squeeze and left his hand there as they watched the paramedics take care of Sam. The warmth could only counter the rain where he made contact, but it was enough to ease Quinn’s worry. One thing at a time, and right now, the one thing had to be Sam.
“Could this have been deliberate?” she asked Nick. “How could someone flip a car without being on the road?”
“We have to find out what Sam saw.” Nick pointed up the slight rise at the side of the road. “There’s a vantage point that could have given enough visual notice, and you know how it could be done.”
“A goddess again,” Quinn agreed miserably. “Just like the hotel room.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions until we talk to Sam. It might have been an accident.”
But what if it hadn’t been? She eyed the crowd with fresh eyes, worried now about an innocent being hurt if the attacker tried again. They had to wrap this up as soon as possible.
When the paramedics seemed to be finishing up with Sam, Nick and Quinn walked over. The woman smoothing a butterfly bandage over his cut looked up at them curiously.
“We’re with him,” Nick said. “How’s he doing?”
The other paramedic climbed into the back to stow equipment.
The woman said, “He lost consciousness, so we’re taking him to Cameron Memorial in Angola for additional testing.”
“I don’t—”
Quinn cut Sam off. Nothing mattered but making sure he was okay. “We’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry.”
“I’m going to check with the trooper to make sure he doesn’t need anything else,” Nick said. Quinn nodded and watched the EMTs helping Sam onto a stretcher. As soon as they’d closed the door, she headed to the Charger.
Nick climbed in a few seconds later and frowned at her. “You’re hurt again.”
“What?” She’d been concentrating so hard on Sam, she hadn’t even realized she was avoiding pressure on her back. Now the stings became throbs, the scrapes and bruises from being pulled out of the car clamoring for attention. “It’s minor,” she assured him. “We’ll take care of it after we make sure Sam’s okay.”
…
The ambulance was still in the bay when Nick pulled into the hospital parking lot. They hurried into the surprisingly quiet ER, where Sam was just being processed. Quinn went through the triage, registration, and preliminary exam with him. At each step the staff response was more positive about his condition, easing her concerns.
Nick went back to the car and brought in dry clothes for them to change into, and Quinn used paper towels to absorb some of the water from her hair and Sam’s.
“How you feeling, dude?” Nick asked Sam, who shrugged.
“Not bad. Tired of waiting. I want to sleep, but they think I’ve got a concussion so that’s not a good idea for a while. They’re going to do a CT of my head.”
“Everything else okay? No broken bones?”
Sam shook his head very slightly. “No, just bruises.”
“Okay. I’ll wait in the lobby,” Nick told Quinn. “I want to watch the news reports, see if it comes up.”
“All right.”
When the door soughed closed, Sam managed a
“Here.” He harrumphed and handed her a clipboard and pen. “I gotta talk to the cop.” He lumbered off. Quinn quickly filled out the form and signed it, then left it on the seat and hurried back to Nick, who leaned against the Charger, waiting for her.
He looked grim and pocketed the business card she handed him. “Every record created from this thing is going to flash a trail.”
“I know. Police report, tow, ambulance, hospital.” She looked back to where Sam sat on the ambulance bumper. “At least it happened here, not right outside of Benton Harbor.” They were far enough away that whoever had done this—still assuming it had been deliberate—wouldn’t be able to guess their destination.
“Whatever. We’ll deal.” Nick gave the back of her neck a little squeeze and left his hand there as they watched the paramedics take care of Sam. The warmth could only counter the rain where he made contact, but it was enough to ease Quinn’s worry. One thing at a time, and right now, the one thing had to be Sam.
“Could this have been deliberate?” she asked Nick. “How could someone flip a car without being on the road?”
“We have to find out what Sam saw.” Nick pointed up the slight rise at the side of the road. “There’s a vantage point that could have given enough visual notice, and you know how it could be done.”
“A goddess again,” Quinn agreed miserably. “Just like the hotel room.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions until we talk to Sam. It might have been an accident.”
But what if it hadn’t been? She eyed the crowd with fresh eyes, worried now about an innocent being hurt if the attacker tried again. They had to wrap this up as soon as possible.
When the paramedics seemed to be finishing up with Sam, Nick and Quinn walked over. The woman smoothing a butterfly bandage over his cut looked up at them curiously.
“We’re with him,” Nick said. “How’s he doing?”
The other paramedic climbed into the back to stow equipment.
The woman said, “He lost consciousness, so we’re taking him to Cameron Memorial in Angola for additional testing.”
“I don’t—”
Quinn cut Sam off. Nothing mattered but making sure he was okay. “We’ll be right behind you. Don’t worry.”
“I’m going to check with the trooper to make sure he doesn’t need anything else,” Nick said. Quinn nodded and watched the EMTs helping Sam onto a stretcher. As soon as they’d closed the door, she headed to the Charger.
Nick climbed in a few seconds later and frowned at her. “You’re hurt again.”
“What?” She’d been concentrating so hard on Sam, she hadn’t even realized she was avoiding pressure on her back. Now the stings became throbs, the scrapes and bruises from being pulled out of the car clamoring for attention. “It’s minor,” she assured him. “We’ll take care of it after we make sure Sam’s okay.”
…
The ambulance was still in the bay when Nick pulled into the hospital parking lot. They hurried into the surprisingly quiet ER, where Sam was just being processed. Quinn went through the triage, registration, and preliminary exam with him. At each step the staff response was more positive about his condition, easing her concerns.
Nick went back to the car and brought in dry clothes for them to change into, and Quinn used paper towels to absorb some of the water from her hair and Sam’s.
“How you feeling, dude?” Nick asked Sam, who shrugged.
“Not bad. Tired of waiting. I want to sleep, but they think I’ve got a concussion so that’s not a good idea for a while. They’re going to do a CT of my head.”
“Everything else okay? No broken bones?”
Sam shook his head very slightly. “No, just bruises.”
“Okay. I’ll wait in the lobby,” Nick told Quinn. “I want to watch the news reports, see if it comes up.”
“All right.”
When the door soughed closed, Sam managed a
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