“I need to tell Cameron what’s going on; I’ll find out if he’s finished his shift yet.”
“No, I’ll tell him.”
“It’d be better coming from me; he’s used to me bumming him out.”
The scanner crackled into life, and there was a flurry of activity. It was not surprising that the rescue efforts from the storm were still underway, but it did seem a little too active for this time of night.
“I repeat: Code three, P-two, Ebbs Way and Turner. Officers three-oh-one and five-seven-nine trapped in car; condition unknown. Over.”
I sucked in a breath, hard. “Those numbers... aren’t they—”
“Yes.” Hugh gripped his car seat so tightly I thought he’d tear the upholstery clear off. “We have to go to him.”
“Won’t we get in the way? I mean—”
“Go now. Junction of Ebbs Way and Turner Avenue.”
My body responded naturally to his surprisingly calm yet commanding tone. I turned the car around with a screech on the empty road.
“Those codes they were using, the three and the P-two, what do they mean?”
“Nothing good,” Hugh replied.
Chapter Twelve
Hugh Davis
He’ll be okay. He has to be okay.
Muriel raced through the streets as fast as she could while dodging the debris that remained in the road.
He will be fine.
We were going to arrive on the scene to find Cameron sipping chicken soup and laughing at some dumb joke. He’d give me a playful punch in the arm for being worried about him, and Muriel would tell us her gross little list was a meaningless stupid prank, and she wanted nothing better than to be with us.
A list she hadn’t finished.
I told myself that, but I didn’t believe a word of it.
“Are you telling yourself everything is going to be fine, by any chance?” Muriel asked, glancing at me from the corner of her eye as she drove.
“Yup,” I replied.
She nodded slowly. “Same. That’s what Cameron would be doing if it was either of us, so perhaps by matching his... I dunno, vibes? Perhaps that’ll help.”
That was a load of horseshit, but I knew better than to say anything. If it made Muriel feel better to believe that Cameron would be safe if we believed enough, then I’d go along with that for her sake. And I wished it were true too.
“That was pure crap I just said, wasn’t it?” she said, and despite everything, I had to laugh.
“Total nonsense,” I agreed, and then gripped the dashboard as Muriel swerved around an abandoned car in the road.
The streetlights were out in this area, making the situation even more dangerous. I could easily understand how Cameron and Vic got into trouble, despite being experienced, highly skilled drivers.
We arrived on-scene to find a bunch of firefighters sitting around their truck, with Cameron and Vic still stuck upside down in the car being tended to by paramedics.
It seemed they’d swerved to avoid being hit by a collapsing building, and they ended up being hit by it anyway. The scene was a total mess. I was relieved to see Cameron and Vic moving with my own eyes, otherwise I wouldn’t have believed there were any survivors in the car.
Muriel ran straight to Cameron and crouched down to hold his hand through the broken window. I strode over to the fire truck, ready to explode with anger.
“What the hell are you doing, standing around doing nothing?”
“Wrong equipment, buddy. They need cutting out of there. We’re waiting on another truck now.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “How the hell don’t you have the right equip— never mind. How long will the truck be?”
One of the firefighters shrugged. “Soon, we hope. We’re spread thin because of the storm.”
I took a deep breath, trying to see things from their perspective. They couldn’t magic the right equipment onto the scene, and times were tough for the emergency services at that moment.
“Hey, you’re Hugh Davis, aren’t you?” someone called out from the truck. I peered inside.
“Er, yeah?”
“I’m Lieutenant Chuck Helmsley. You wrote that article for the Chronicle about how we’re underfunded, didn’t you?”
I’d almost forgotten about that. I’d written it up last year. Fat lot of good it did, apparently. “Yeah, that was me.”
“Thanks for doing that, bud. Things move slowly at City Hall.”
I snorted; that was an understatement.
“But next year’s budget is looking a lot healthier.”
Well, that was something. I didn’t have time for self-satisfaction, though; my best friend was stuck and bleeding. I could see an EMT attempting to bandage his wound while he was still in the car, but it was clearly a struggle.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I called out. “Say, is there anything you can do to at least find out when the truck will get here? That’s my best friend in there, and his partner.”
“Let me give them a call,” Chuck said.
I headed straight over to the upturned patrol car.
“Hugh,” Cameron said weakly as I arrived. “How’s it going?”