Darcy filled in the details as she drove. She had gotten a call from the Angel Harbor PD about a preliminary toxicology report, and she was on her way to pick it up when she'd come across Aiden stumbling along on the shoulder of the road. She'd called an ambulance, but he would only agree to treatment if she would go pick up Harriet.
"They were still extracting the girl when I left to go get you,” she finished.
"How bad is it?"
"She wasn't conscious, and her leg was pinned. They were cutting the side of the truck apart to free her."
"That's horrible.” Harriet wondered if it was the blonde.
Darcy drove up to the walk-in door of the emergency room. “I'll park the car and come find you,” she said.
Harriet went to the information desk and was directed to cubicle three. Aiden sat in the bed holding an ice bag against his left temple. His eyes were closed, and he jumped when Harriet gently touched his shoulder. He dropped the ice bag and opened his eyes. The left was surrounded by red, giving his exotic white-blue iris an eerie look. His cheekbone was scarlet, and he was going to have a nasty shiner by morning.
He didn't say anything. Harriet put her arms around him, and he leaned into her. They were still in their silent embrace when the doctor came in.
"You're a lucky man, Dr. Jalbert,” he said-he had introduced himself as Dr. King. He was a tall, white-haired man with kind blue eyes and an easy smile. “Your cheekbone isn't broken."
"Good. Can I get out of here now?"
Harriet stepped back as he stood up.
"Not quite so quick there, young man,” Dr. King said. “Your cheekbone is okay, but I've called a specialist to come look at your eye.” He pulled a small white penlight from his coat pocket and shined it into the injured eye. “Look at the wall over there… It's probably fine, but I'd like the eye guy to look at it and say he agrees.
"You do know that when we release you, we expect you to go home and rest for a few days,” Dr. King continued. “I know your patients can't follow that advice, but I expect you to hear me and follow my instructions.” He patted Aiden's shoulder and guided him back onto the bed. “Let your young lady here pamper you for a few days. I predict by this time next week this will all be just a memory."
"I don't know if I feel insulted that he spoke to me like I'm a possession or flattered that he called me young,” Harriet commented when the doctor was out of earshot.
"I liked the sound of both.” Aiden grabbed her hand as he leaned back on the bed. “I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute,” he mumbled. “Promise me you won't leave."
She pulled a chair over beside his bed and sat, holding his hand all the while. In a few minutes, his regular breathing told her he had escaped into sleep. She couldn't blame him. She'd had some recent experience with head injuries and knew sleep was the only thing that truly relieved the pain.
A full two hours passed before the specialist declared Aiden fit to be released. He'd taken extra time to convince himself Aiden didn't have any of the common congenital problems that were frequently associated with white-blue eyes. He'd also sent for two of his medical students to observe the rare eye color. Aiden finally offered to come back for a full eye study when his injuries had healed if they would let him go now.
"I need to stop and see how Cammie is on the way out,” he told the nurse who was pushing his wheelchair toward the exit.
The triage nurse overheard his request and answered. “She's in surgery. You might as well go get some rest. She's got hours yet to go."
Aiden buried his face in his hands.
"Hey,” Harriet said. She put her hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him. “Darcy will be here in a minute. Where are you staying?"
"We're at a bed and breakfast on Eighth Avenue. It's called Helen's House."
"Will you be okay there by yourself?” she asked, and swept a strand of hair out of his face.
"I could stay with you.” He looked up with a ghost of his usual impishness crossing his face. “I'm kidding,” he said before she could react. “Helen will take good care of me.” His face turned serious. “Besides,” he continued, “I've got a job for you."
"Sure, what do you need?"
He pulled her closer. “The police talked to me before you got here. I told them someone had hit my truck and sent us over the edge. I don't know if they believe me. They said people don't do stuff like that in broad daylight where anyone could have seen them. I know my truck didn't run off the road because of water on the road like they're saying. I don't care what they think-someone ran me off the road. They rammed me twice."
"What do you want me to do?” Harriet asked, unsure where this was going.
"I saw the vehicle. I couldn't see who was driving, but it was a black Ford Explorer."
She still wasn't connecting the dots.
"Just like the ones I saw parked at your school. I want you to see if any of them have damage or white paint on their front fender or bumper. Don't confront anyone, just look and tell me what you see. Can you do that?"
"Sure. There have to be lots of black Ford Explorers, though. Not just at the school."
"Indulge me,” he said.
She would check, but she was already thinking about the car that had taken her to dinner.
Darcy arrived before they could discuss it further. The B &B was less than a mile from the hospital, the house lemon-yellow with lots of the white lacy gingerbread Victorian houses are known for. The front garden was English and surrounded by a white picket fence. Darcy held the gate open, and Harriet guided Aiden into the yard and then onto the wide porch.
The foyer continued the Victorian theme. A collection of Blue Willow plates were displayed on a lace-edged shelf around the perimeter of the room. A blue floral pitcher and bowl sat on a lace doily on top of a dark cherry bookshelf.
Helen turned out to be a plump woman whose long white hair was twisted into a simple bun on the top of her head. She wore a faded floral shirt-dress topped with a white apron. Her beige shoes were the type nurses and other people who spend a lifetime on their feet sported. She assured Harriet she would treat Aiden as if he were one of her own-he seemed to bring out the mothering gene in women of all ages, even when he didn't have a black eye.
"I expect he'll be just fine, but I'll call you if anything happens,” she said. She'd gathered all the relevant phone numbers when they'd arrived.
"We do have a house full of doctors, you know,” Aiden reminded them.
"That would be great if you were a dog,” Harriet teased. “Oh, wait, you are,” she added, and grinned.
"Very funny. I'm supposed to be getting sympathy here."
"Enough,” Helen said. “You go get in your jammies, and I'll bring you a nice cup of tea and some toast."
"Hey, I hit my head, not my stomach,” Aiden protested as Helen put her arm around his waist and turned him to the stairs.
"He'll be fine,” she said, and waved over her shoulder as she followed him up.