Moira knew Gil lived on the lake right next door to his parents. The house had belonged to Gil’s grandmother when she was alive. It was about a five-minute drive from Moira’s neighborhood.
“And what’s going on with you?” she asked. So far, Doug was talking just fine, which meant he was breathing normally. She didn’t know if he was badly injured though.
“I was feeling dizzy, and Goldie knocked me down.”
Goldie was Gil’s golden retriever. He’d had the dog for years, and she’d seen him walking it in a nearby park on several occasions. “Can you get up?” she asked.
“No, I hurt my foot when I fell. I’m still feeling dizzy too,” he said, sounding increasingly distressed. His words were coming out slower, and he was slurring.
Moira started typing into her computer, sending details to local emergency crews. “When you fell, did you hear a snap or a pop in your ankle?”
“I don’t remember. It happened so fast...Uh-oh. My foot is swelling and turning purple.” Doug took several audible breaths.
“It’s okay, Doug, I’ve notified authorities. Try to stay calm, okay?”
“O-okay.”
Moira stared at her computer screen while she waited impatiently for emergency personnel to acknowledge the call. What is taking them so long? “Are you doing all right?” she asked Doug after a minute.
“I think so. I’m feeling kind of hot though. I think I need my medicine.”
Moira sat up straighter. She didn’t know Doug’s full medical history. “What medication are you on, Doug?” she asked, gaze trained on her computer screen. It had now been over five minutes. Usually someone had responded to her alert by now.
“I take it when I feel sick like this.” Doug’s words tumbled over each other.
“Doug, can you tell me exactly where in Gil’s house that you are?” Moira asked, trying to keep Doug talking so she could better assess his condition. The last thing she wanted was for him to lose consciousness.
“Yes, I’m in the kitchen. On the floor.”
She impatiently tapped her fingers against her desk. She usually got an alert when ambulances, fire trucks, or sheriff’s cars were deployed to the scene. Then she stayed on the line with the caller until emergency crews arrived. No one was responding right now though. Were they all at the three-car pileup on Hannigan Street? Yes, this was a small town, but surely they could spare a couple of essential workers to help Doug.
“Moira? Are you still there?” Doug asked. “I don’t feel so good.”
“I’m here, Doug. I’ve alerted officials, and someone is coming to help you.” She stared at her dispatch screen, heart racing in her chest. Finally, a message came on her screen.
Emergency personnel are currently working a MVA. Someone will respond to this call shortly.
MVA. Multiple vehicle accident. What did they mean they’d respond shortly? In all her years working dispatch, there’d never been a delay. She picked up her cell phone and attempted to call Gil, but the call went straight to voice mail. Next, she dialed the other dispatcher, Riley, who was also on shift. Instead of answering the call, Riley texted Moira back.
Riley: I’m on the line with a MVA victim right now.
Moira: I know. I got that call too. I need to step away from the dispatch. I need you to cover all incoming.
Riley: What? Why?
Moira: I’m responding to an emergency. I owe you.
Without waiting for Riley’s objection—because there was no way she wasn’t going to object—Moira stood. “Hold on. I’ll be right there,” she told Doug, who was still on the line. “Answer the phone when I call you, okay? I’m hanging up on the emergency line and calling you from my cell.”
“Okay,” Doug said.
“Make sure you answer,” Moira stressed. She wasn’t quite sure of his condition, and she didn’t want to leave him alone in case he passed out.
“I will.”
Moira reluctantly hung up. She pulled off her headset, hoping Riley would be able to handle any incoming calls on her own. Then, with a shaky finger, Moira dialed Doug from her cell phone.
He answered immediately. “Hello? Moira?”
“Hi, Doug. It’s me.” Moira grabbed her car keys from the counter as she ran out of her home. She got into her blue Hyundai and reversed out of the driveway, wishing she had a little flashing light to put in her windshield. When she was growing up, she’d fantasized about being a cop or paramedic. She’d always loved the idea of helping people. A lot of her friends had grown up saying they wanted to be like their parents, but Moira had never wanted to run a bakery or café. She’d worked at Sweetie’s during high school, and while the money was nice to have, she’d dreaded working behind the counter. “I’m on my way, Doug. Just stay on the line with me, okay?” She drove faster than normal, heading in the direction of the lake. When she pulled into Gil’s driveway, she asked, “Is the front door open?”
“No. I always lock it behind me when I come inside,” he replied weakly.
Moira frowned as she parked. “Does Gil have a spare key that I can use to let myself in?”
“Yes,” Doug said.
Moira exhaled as she hurried out of her car, crossing the lawn toward the front porch. “Great. Where is it?” she asked, taking the steps two at a time.
“It’s on the kitchen counter.”
Moira froze behind the front door. “What? Why is it there?”
“That’s how I let myself in,” he said.
“Well, is there any way you can come to the door, Doug?”
“I don’t think so. My ankle really hurts, and I’m feeling shaky.”
Moira didn’t like the sound of that. Was Doug going into shock from the pain? If his ankle was broken, that was a real possibility. She looked around, trying to decide how to get inside the little yellow house. She could break a window, but that seemed extreme. Maybe she could pick the lock.
“Maybe you can fit through Goldie’s doggie door?” Doug’s voice was growing notably quieter.
“Doggie door? Where is that?”
“At the back door.”
Moira jogged behind the house and let herself in the fence. Then she climbed the deck steps and looked at the doggie door in question. She would fit, but if anyone found out, she might never live this down.
“Please hurry.” Doug moaned softly. “I need my medicine.”
Without another thought, Moira dropped to her knees and started crawling. “Hold on! I’m on my way, Doug!” She stuck her hand inside the doggie door first, planting it on the cold tile floor inside, screaming as something wet and slimy slid across the back of her fingers. Moira quickly withdrew her arm, heart ballooning into her throat.
“That was Goldie. Please help me,” Doug said.
Okay. I can do this. Moira stuck her arm through the doggie door again, and this time she followed with her head and her body, coming face-to-face with a large dog that ran its tongue over her cheek. Moira pulled the rest of her body through the door, glancing around for Doug.
“Over here!” he called.
“Good dog.” Moira patted Goldie’s head as she stood. Then she hurried over to the man lying on the floor near the kitchen counter. “Hi, Doug.” Moira squatted next to him and inspected his foot, noting the pockets of dark purple swelling on both sides of his ankle. She gently palpated around the bone of his ankle.