Banana Muffins & Mayhem (20 page)

Amy turned to look at the Jeep. Flames topped with plumes of black smoke whorled out of the engine compartment. The hood was flipped up, lying back on the windshield. The passenger door was still open. She could see Alex wasn't inside the vehicle. An icy ripple of fear radiated through her. Where was he?

Strangers gathered around her. Their mouths were moving, but she couldn't hear what they were saying over the drum of her own heartbeat. She stood and grimaced at the twin jolts of pain in her rescuer-abused feet. It didn't matter. She had to find Alex.

"Amy!" Alex broke through a barricade of people. In a second, he was in front of her. A trickle of blood traced from his forehead down the side of his face as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly." She reached up and touched his forehead next to where the blood was originating. "But you're bleeding."

He swiped at the crimson streak with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his cheek. "I'll be fine. This is ridiculous. Why is someone trying to kill us?"

The world was spinning, even though she was safe in Alex's arms. She turned her head to look at the burning Jeep again. The passenger seat where she had been sitting only moments earlier was blanketed in flames. But something wasn't right. Where was the other vehicle that had collided with them? Hadn't they been in an accident? "What do you mean? Didn't another car hit us?"

"No. We didn't run into anything. That's why the air bags didn't go off." He squeezed her tighter. "The engine blew up. There were no warning lights or indication that there was a mechanical problem with it. I think it was some kind of bomb."

"Are you two okay? The ambulance will be here any second," another voice said as a second pair of arms encircled her from behind. Amy turned away from the inferno. Geri released her from the embrace and took a step backward. "I've never been so scared in my life. I glanced up from the pottery wheel and…and I am so glad to see you both standing here."

There was blood smeared across the side of Geri's face too. Amy squinted at the streak. "I think I'm okay, but you're bleeding."

Geri shook her head. She cupped Amy's elbow in her hand. "Honey, you need to sit down. I'm not bleeding. You are."

Amy crumpled onto the edge of the planter again. There was a spot stinging on the back of her head. She touched the area. Her fingertips were covered in blood. "I don't know what happened. Why am I bleeding?"

"You were probably cut by glass. All of the windows were shattered," Alex said as he sat beside her.

Two paramedics pushed their way through the wall of people that surrounded them. The woman squatted in front of Amy and said, "My name is Sue. I'll be taking care of you. Tell me where you hurt."

There was a collective "ooh" from the crowd of bystanders. Amy turned to look at the object of their fascination—the Jeep. Firefighters were showering it with water. Cyclones of smoke and steam rose from the vehicle shell. A hand gripping her wrist tugged Amy's attention back to the paramedic who asked again, "Can you tell me where you're injured?"

"My ears hurt, but that's it…I think." She looked down at her bloody fingers. "I…I guess my head is bleeding too."

Time became elastic as the world sped up and then slowed down at random intervals. Nothing seemed to be moving at a normal pace. The indistinct murmurs of bystanders mixed with the cold mist drifting from the water being sprayed on the fire all punctuated with the sirens of more emergency vehicles arriving on the scene. At some point, it was decided that she and Alex needed to be transported to the hospital to check for internal injuries and stitch up the cuts from being pelted with glass shards and chunks of the Jeep's dash.

Amy was loaded onto a gurney and hoisted into the ambulance. Alex climbed aboard and was instructed to sit on the built-in bench next to her. He grabbed her hand and said, "I'm going to figure out who did this, even if I have to do it on my own without the help of the police."

Pretty much the same thing she was thinking.

The sirens on the emergency vehicle whirred to life. She squeezed her husband's hand. He was her knight in shining armor. But while she was in distress at the moment, she was sure she could figure out who was behind the attacks too. Nobody messed with her husband and got away with it.

(Carla)

Carla lifted her thumb off of the steering wheel and bent it to crack the joint. She had been gripping the wheel a little too tightly, and her hands were paying for it. Bruce was too. He didn't look impressed in the least as he clutched the armrest of the passenger seat while she pushed on the accelerator pedal and threaded her car into an opening in traffic.

"I have an idea for a new job for you," he said as he looked over his shoulder at the car she had just pulled in front of, which was flashing its headlights in protest. "You can help with driving courses at the police academy by pretending you are a fleeing suspect. Most police officers who I know would have a hard time keeping up with you."

She ignored her husband's attempt to lighten the mood. It was impossible that she was heading to the emergency room to see a loved one for the second time in less than a week. Impossible. Yet it was happening. Her mother had called after Alex's Jeep blew up on Main Street. Not
in
an accident. Not hit by another car or even caught on fire. Blew. Up.
How did something like that happen?

Bruce probably had some ideas on what could cause a vehicle to explode, but she couldn't discuss that. Not while she needed to focus on getting both of them to the hospital as quickly as possible. Amy was injured. And Carla wanted to be by her side.

"Slow car!" He braced his right arm against the dash. Carla's gaze flicked to the side mirror.
More than enough room
. She jerked the steering wheel and veered into the left lane, neatly inserting the luckily compact Nissan Juke between a delivery van and a semitruck. Bruce's shoulder bumped into hers. He grunted and swore under his breath as he grabbed the door handle to straighten himself. Her husband was most definitely going to be happy when his wound was healed. For now, his arm was in a sling to help keep the injured area immobile—a disadvantage while he was trying to brace himself for the sudden lane changes.

They fell silent for a few minutes as Carla concentrated on getting through a knot of congested traffic. The route to the hospital was tattooed into her mind, following the roads and turns a reflexive memory from years of driving there and back home in various states of exhaustion—mental and physical. Autopilot mode was a survival feature. Carla guided the car into the turning lane. She stomped on the brake pedal when an ambulance, sirens suddenly blaring, barreled out of the emergency room parking lot and crossed in front of her. The sound still made her pulse quicken, even though she hadn't worked there in over six months.

There was a parking space open in the first row nearest the doors. Bruce grunted again when the front tires smacked the curb. The ride had turned him into a caveman. Carla scrambled out of the car and turned toward the back seat to get Macy. But the baby wasn't there. The next door neighbor with the budding soccer team of children had offered to take care of Macy many times. Carla had finally accepted the offer. The need to see what condition Amy and Alex were in overrode the reluctance to let her sweet defenseless baby hang out with a soccer ball-toting horde of older children.
She'll be fine
. Carla repeated the mantra to herself as she sprinted to the entrance doors. Hopefully, Amy would be too.

The admission nurses in the waiting area buzzed her through the doors to the exam rooms when she called out who she was looking for. Inside the inner sanctum of the ER, she scanned the arc of glass-walled rooms as she veered toward the nurse's station in the center of the space. "Amy and Alex Ridley. Came in from a car accident downtown," she said to Belinda. One of the many nurses who had been like a sister to her.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Belinda said. She pointed to the left. "They're together in room four."

The large rooms had space for two beds. When strangers occupied them, a curtain was drawn in between to give the patients privacy. The divider was drawn back. Amy lay on her side, facing Alex's bed. Both were being prepped for stitches on their heads.

"You're here!" Amy said as she held out her hand.

Carla rushed to the bedside and squeezed her best friend's fingers. Because it was basically the only thing she could do. She had always gotten a rush over helping people. But now that she was no longer an employee of Kellerton Hospital, the only support she could provide was morale. She'd found that out when Bruce ended up there. Helplessness was not an emotion she liked.

"Of course I'm here. And so is Bruce. You are in excellent hands. I would trust anybody in this ER with my life, but you know I'm always here for you." She leaned closer to peer at the small patch where the hair had been shaved off the back of Amy's head. A ragged, bloody gash was punctuated with a deep crater. "Looks like you tangled with some broken glass."

"We got it all out," someone said as Carla focused on the cut, instinctively looking for signs of remaining glass hidden in the coagulated blood. She nodded. The wound looked clean to her, but she didn't really have any say in the matter. That realization prickled under her skin like an electrical current. What had she done to her life? Helping people had been ingrained in her for so long—it was like breathing. And not being able to do it felt as though she was drowning. Yet how was she supposed to help others if she couldn't even accomplish showering every day anymore?

Carla grabbed the bed rail with her free hand as her knees wobbled. It wasn't the right time or place to have an existential crisis. She took a deep breath and imagined a door shutting, closing off her emotions. It was a technique she had used often while working long hectic shifts at the hospital. She needed to stay strong and confident for Amy.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Bruce asked Alex.

"The Jeep's engine blew up. We were only going about twenty-five miles per hour, and I'm certain there was nothing wrong with the engine. It wasn't knocking or making an odd noise. I think there was a bomb under the hood."

Amy's eyes widened as she squeezed Carla's hand tighter. She didn't say a word though. Nobody needed to speak because they were all thinking the same thing—who had tried to kill Amy and Alex? And why?

"This has to be connected to that TV star's murder, doesn't it?" Carla asked.

Bruce's chest puffed out as he took a deep breath. "I would think it's very likely, but I don't know Detective Foster's opinion."

Alex slammed the mattress with his fist. "She thinks the threats I've been receiving aren't directly connected to the murder—that someone is capitalizing on it to screw with my company. The thing is, there have been no demands, let alone any indication of what exactly Quantum or I have done to bring on this vendetta. There is no point to the threats, which I can see, if they aren't directly connected to the murder as a way to throw the investigation off track."

A vein on the edge of Bruce's forehead bulged out. His green eyes practically glowed with anger.
Not good.
He had spent months training Lauren Foster, yet she wouldn't acknowledge a connection that was obvious to him. So much for him taking a break to rest and heal. His former trainee would likely be on the receiving end of another investigative lesson soon. "I'll poke around a bit and see what I can find out," he said. "I have a difficult time believing a troll who stumbled upon a chance to cause trouble would resort to attempted murder just for the fun of it."

Carla's mother appeared in the doorway of the crowded room. A cardboard drink carrier with three to-go cups of coffee fitted into the depressions was in her hands. Her gaze locked on Carla. "Where's Macy?"

"The woman who lives next door is watching her."

She nodded then turned her attention to Amy. "I found an espresso cart in the hospital's main lobby. I figured you two would appreciate real coffee instead of whatever those vending machines in the waiting area spit out."

A viper of jealousy twisted around Carla's chest. Once again her mother had slipped into the role Carla used to play in Amy's life. Nothing was right anymore.

"Here you go, sweetheart. It's a cinnamon and honey latte. I thought you might like it," her mother said as she handed Amy one of the cups. She looked at Carla. "I don't know about you, but I think these two are doing pretty good considering what happened."

"I'd say so," Carla said. She walked out of the room and made a beeline to the water and ice station. Amy needed to stay still while the stitches were being done. A straw would be the best way to keep her head immobile while feeding her coffee addiction.

When she returned to the room, the doctor in charge was standing between the beds. He addressed Carla. "No signs of internal injury. No broken bones. They both sustained quite a few bruises and some temporary hearing loss. We just need to get a few sutures into the head lacerations, and they'll be ready to go home."

Her mother raised her coffee cup. "I can take them home. Plenty of room in my van."

And it would be a tight squeeze for two battered adults to fit into the back seat of her car, especially since the baby seat was still there. Another victory for her mother. But declaring it a victory meant that they were in a battle—and they weren't. Were they? She and Amy were still best friends.

Carla thanked the doctor as she unwrapped a straw and fitted it into the lid of Amy's latte. Her hands were shaking thanks to her metamorphosis into a giant bundle of raw emotions. She was worried about her best friend, angry at her mother for being a caring person, and frustrated with herself for losing control of her emotions. Oh yeah, she was rocking the hot mess persona.

"Sounds like it will be a little while yet," Bruce said as he placed his hand on Carla's shoulder. "Want to step outside with me while I make a few phone calls?"