Page 58 of Demo
Seeing that she hasn’t adjusted her offensive stance at all and is still looking at me like I’m an idiot, I really start to unravel.
“OK, you know what, I guess I can’t expect you to understand. I mean, you’ve never given anyone more than a few nights in your bed, right? So what could you possibly understand about love and intimacy, and humility?”
I immediately regret the words and wish I could swallow them back up.
Dee’s jaw drops open as her arms fall to her sides. “Ouch,” she says.
“Shit, Dee. I’m sorry.”
I am interrupted by a whistle coming from Monty as he comes at me, keys in hand, camera lens dangling from his neck. “Lizzie, we gotta rock’n’roll! Pileup on the innerloop.”
***
“Holy shitballs,” Monty says, as we stand at the edge of the scene.
“Holy shitballs is right,” I reply.
There is so much debris, it’s hard to tell how many cars are involved in this wreck. Blue and red and black and silver metal is bent and crunched and tossed along the pavement, which is stained with tire marks and shattered glass. Wheels and hubcaps and even purses and empty coffee cups are strewn about. Firefighters are using saws to cut into an upside-down sedan, sparks flying everywhere and the roar of the saw providing a background symphony to the action.
A few feet away from that, two paramedics are rushing a gurney toward an ambulance, with a bloody patient flailing her arms about. And even further away, I see an EMT doing chest compressions on a man who lays lifeless on the grass.
Beside me, I can hear the shutter of Monty’s camera. This is why he’s a good photographer. He doesn’t freeze. He doesn’t stand there in horror or shock or awe. He jumps into action. He never misses a beat.
I, on the other hand, have to consciously snap myself back to the here and now. I’m better than I used to be. There was a time I would have to fight back the urge to puke or cry. Now, I just have to remember to breathe.
And not get in the way.
Looking around, I try to block out the horrified look on the faces of drivers who are sitting on the grass who have been pulled to safety—the ones whose injuries can wait for attention. I scan the faces of the first responders and law enforcement officers until I recognize someone who can be of use to me.
I see Sgt. McKinley, but he’s assisting some firefighters with the Jaws of Life on an overturned SUV. I happen to spot the chief, but I’m avoiding him like the plague. Then I see Capt. Griffin standing off to the side, hands resting on his belt, eyes looking … tired.
I hustle over to him, then slow my pace as I get closer. “Captain,” I address as I near him.
When he sees me, he does what they all do when they see me approach—he sighs. “Look, Mrs. Mitchell, it’s been a long day. It’s going to be an even longer night. Can’t you wait until tomorrow to give me the shake-down.”
I tap my pen on my notebook and look around, offering a shoulder shrug and cringe as I say, “You know what they say about old news …”
“Good grief.” He shuffles his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. Griffin is smaller than the other guys. He’s got tousled dark hair but light eyes, which are currently squinted as the sun sets and gives the scene before us an even more eerie feeling.
“Several vehicles involved, obviously,” he begins, as he waves his hand at the mess in front of us. “Several injured, some critical. One DOA.” He points at a body covered in a blanket in the grass I hadn’t even seen yet.
Looking back to the wreckage, I press, “Cause?”
“Too early.” His response is quick.
“Any reason so many vehicles were involved? Speed? Visibility?”
“Both are possibilities. The sun glare in this direction is awful,” Griffin says, hands back on his belt. “Speed, distracted drivers, rubbernecking …”
I’m scribbling things down as we continue to look around. “Any chance you guys will have an ID on any of the drivers tonight?” I ask.
He sighs. “When’s press time?”
“Midnight.”
He tips his head this way and that and pulls one side of his mouth up. Then bites out, “No.”
“Griff!” We both turn our heads in the direction of a rough, clipped tone, and see the chief beckoning him over, and the captain takes off without another word to me.
