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Marie shrugged and frustration clouded her eyes. “I wish I had more information for you, but the truth is I don’t know much about Bill anymore.”
Owen brushed a streak of dirt off her cheek with his thumb. “You’ve given us plenty. But we’ll discuss this more later. Right now, we need to get Tommy out of here.” He dropped his hand to Tommy’s forearm and gripped it tightly. “Can you stand?”
Tommy wrapped his hand over Owen’s arm and pushed himself to his feet. A paleness took over his bronze skin, and a sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. “I might get sick.”
“If you need to stop, let me know. The hardest part is getting you down the tree. I need to know you can manage that on your own. I can’t carry you.”
Tommy took a breath and nodded. “I can do it.”
“Okay. I’ll go down first, you follow. I’ll stay right below you in case you need me. Marie, come down after Tommy.”
“Got it,” Marie said.
“Move carefully, but not too slowly. We need to meet the EMTs as soon as possible.”
Tommy may be on his feet, but that could change. Narcan only lasted up to an hour. If they didn’t get Tommy in the hands of medical professions before then, there was no telling what would happen.
He gathered up all the false enthusiasm he could. “Let’s go.”
Marie tightened her grip around the straps securing the heavy backpack to her shoulders. Sweat slid down her spine and made her tank top cling to her skin. They might not have been too far from the park right off the river, but the insufferable heat and Tommy’s faltering steps had made the hike much longer.
A small clearing opened among the trees, and they followed a narrow trail to a parking lot at the entrance to the park. An ambulance and police cruiser waited there. The sound of cars from the nearby road, hidden by the covering of trees, roared against the stillness of the afternoon.
The black asphalt under her feet was hard as nails compared to the soggy earth. She stayed a few feet behind Owen, who walked with Tommy’s arm swung around his neck, helping his brother with each step.
Owen waved his free hand in the air, and a large deputy with a wide-brim hat jogged toward them. The EMT tugged a gurney through the open door at the back of the ambulance and rolled it behind the man.
“How’s he doing?” the officer asked, his voice tight and lips pressed in a firm line.
“You can ask me. I’m right here,” Tommy said.
Marie fought a smile. Not one complaint had crossed Tommy’s lips since he woke. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mom would behave so well after being roused from an overdose.
Lead settled in her stomach. With a drug addict as a mother, she’d witnessed more than she should, but at least she’d been spared watching her mom overdose on the one thing she craved more than anything.
A shudder shot through her. Tommy’s life was spared because Owen had been so prepared. Her mom’s fate would have been worse if Marie’d been forced to deal with it.
The officer stepped into stride on the other side of Tommy and circled his arm around Tommy’s waist. “Fine. How are you?”
“Dizzy, nauseous, my head is pounding, but I’m alive thanks to Owen.”
“Owen should have been the one checking that old blind. And why didn’t you call me? I had to hear everything from the emergency dispatcher.” The older man aimed narrowed eyes and a tight jaw over Tommy’s head and straight at Owen.
“I handled it,” Owen said, a hard edge to his voice. “I would have called once I got Tommy here.”
Another emergency responder had emerged from the front of the ambulance, joining the other paramedic and rushing toward them with the white-sheet covered gurney.
Owen pivoted so he stood in front of the bed and lowered Tommy.
Rivers of sweat poured down Tommy’s pale face, and he winced as he sank onto his back.
Fear bit into her heart. Tommy’s positive veneer hadn’t slipped once while they’d walked, and Marie had stayed behind the two men. She hadn’t seen the pain etched on his face or the worry shadowing Owen’s eyes.
The deputy grabbed Tommy’s hand but stared at Owen as they all hurried toward the waiting ambulance. “I’m going with him. I brought your car. I printed out a bunch of information. The guy—or boy—who drove Bill is Edward Jones. Eighteen years old. Lives with his mother, but she hasn’t seen him in weeks. Kid’s dad died earlier this year, and he’s taken it hard. Mom says he’s spiraling out of control, won’t go to school. She doesn’t know what to do.”
Marie’s stomach muscles tightened. Eighteen years old? So young and already threw his life away. Anger simmered in her veins. Bill managed to find someone young and vulnerable and turned him into a felon.
Owen and the officer helped the EMTs hoist Tommy into the back of the ambulance. Owen glanced over his shoulder. “Does that name sound familiar?”
