EMTs rushed up. EMTs in bright, reflective, yellow raincoats. A gurney was put near the grave. Bridget lowered onto it. She still did not move. The lights showed that her skin had gone waxy. Her arms and legs looked tense. Her lips were slightly parted, her jaw a bit stiff.
She’s not breathing.
From the look of things, she hadn’t been breathing for a while. Hours.
“Dammit.” Debra’s head tipped back, her eyes closed, and the rain hit her face. “Dammit!”
Sloane reached for Preston’s hand. Her fingers curled with his.
“Cover her up!” Debra bellowed. Her eyes had opened once again. “I want this woman covered! Now!”
Two EMTs were near the gurney. They looked at each other, and one began to take off his raincoat.
“Stop it!” A wild yell. Then another man was rushing toward them. A man in one of the same yellow, reflective raincoats. Another EMT. But one that Preston recognized. The guy had been in the ambulance with him and Sloane the night before. Adam. He’d told them that his name was Adam. Adam East. “That’s my partner!” A desperate cry from Adam. “Don’t you give up on her! Don’t!” He shoved the others out of the way. “You have to perform CPR. Bridget will come back. You don’t give up on her!” His hands slammed down onto her chest. “Bridget?” One hand was over the other, fingers locked, as he pushed on her chest. “Bridget, you’re safe.”
“Get him,” Debra quietly directed her deputies. “Pull him back. Now.”
The other EMTs were just watching, stunned.
“Bridget, please,” Adam begged. His hands pushed harder. “Open your eyes. Come back. It’s okay. It’s okay, you’re safe. Just open your eyes?—”
Two deputies put their hands on his shoulders. “Sir, you have to step away,” one said.
“She just has to breathe. I’m helping her. I’ll help her to breathe!”
“That’s a dead body,” Eugene muttered to no one in particular. “Doesn’t he know that?”
The deputies on either side of Adam pulled harder. They forced him back. Adam was crying, his whole body heaving as he tried to reach out to a motionless and stiff Bridget.
“We have to help her!” Adam protested, desperate. “She is my partner! We have to help her. Help. Her!”
But there wasn’t going to be any help for Bridget. They’d found her too late.
Sloane’s fingers squeezed Preston’s. His head turned. He stared at her. Her hair was soaking, the white shirt clinging to her body. A shiver slid over her as she stared at Adam and Bridget.
That could have been Sloane. It could have been me. We could have been found dead.
No one would have mourned over Preston. But Sloane’s friends would have grieved. Maybe Lily would have even fought as hard as Adam was fighting against the deputies as he struggled to get back to Bridget. To try and help her.
None of us can help her.
It was far too late.
Sloane’s head turned slowly toward him. She met Preston’s gaze.
It could have been Sloane.
Then, right after that thought…
I will never—fucking never—let it be Sloane.
Then she threw her body against him and held on as she cried.
“How did you know where the body was?” Debra asked.
They were back at the Range Rover. There were at least four patrol cars at the scene. Two ambulances. A fire truck. Help had come in with a fury, but, unfortunately, it was help that had done no good.
Sloane knew teardrops mixed with the rain on her cheeks. She’d never forget seeing Bridget’s body in that coffin.
