Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,86
ramp for any sign of Ireland. Actually, the fog had settled in so thick, I couldn’t even see the entrance ramp to get on the dock anymore, or the parking lot. I’d called Ireland’s cell fifteen minutes ago and left a message. But I didn’t want to distract her by sending a text. When another half hour went by with still no sign of her, I began to pace and called again. Only to get her voicemail a second time.
“Hey. It’s me.” I looked at my watch and blew out a breath. “I left you at nine, and it’s ten thirty now. You didn’t mention making any other stops except home. You should have been here almost an hour ago. Give me a call, and let me know you’re alright.” I swiped End and hopped the back transom, deciding to go wait in the parking lot.
The walk up the dock to the ramp was unnervingly quiet. Not a single person was around, and with the fog hanging so low, the anxious feeling in my gut turned into something more ominous.
Where the fuck is she?
She could have fallen asleep. But it hadn’t sounded like she planned on spending any time at home. She’d said she was grabbing a pile of work from the table. I suppose she could’ve stopped at a store—but not too many were open at going on eleven o’clock. Eventually, I gave in and sent a text.
I waited for the Sent to change to Delivered, but it never did. Restless, I jogged back to the boat, wrote a quick note for her to call me if she got here before I was back, and swiped my keys off the counter.
Getting on the road, I navigated the path she would’ve taken from her house to mine. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but I really hoped I didn’t find it. The roads were pretty empty for a Saturday night—apparently all the smart people were staying indoors. The more I struggled to see the pavement, the more freaked out I got. But no news was good news. Best-case scenario, she sat down to take off her shoes at home and fell asleep.
Yeah. That’s what probably happened.
As I went farther with no sign of her car, I started to feel a little relieved.
Until I rounded a corner and saw a shitload of lights flashing up ahead.
My heart raced. I stepped on the gas, even though I couldn’t see more than twenty feet ahead of me. Something was definitely going on up there. Even through the fog, I could see there were more than a dozen lights flashing at different heights—lights like when both the cops and the fire department respond to an accident.
“It’s not her.”
“It’s definitely not her.” I started to talk to myself. Be reasonable.
“She’s probably stuck behind all of that.”
“Some dumbass was speeding in the fog and crossed over the yellow line.”
“Damn…there are a lot of rescue vehicles.”
Approaching the parade of lights, I slowed when I saw reflectors and what looked to be a safety wand waving up ahead. A cop stood in the road wearing raingear, so I pulled up to speak to him. A firetruck blocked a better view of what was going on.
He leaned over to speak as I rolled down my window. “Accident up ahead. Road’s gonna be closed for the next hour or two until we can get things cleaned up and a tow out here.”
“My girlfriend was supposed to be at my house an hour ago, and she’s not answering her cell. Do you know what kind of cars were involved? Is anyone hurt?”
The officer frowned. “Only one car. Driver was just taken by ambulance to County Hospital. It was a woman. What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
“Ireland Saint James.”
The officer stood and lifted a walkie talkie to his mouth. “This is Connors. You got a name on the woman they just put in the bus?”
My heart thumped, waiting for the answer.
Eventually a burst of static came through and then a voice. “Victim was that lady from the news—Ireland Richardson.”
I felt sick. “Is she okay?”
The cop leaned down and shined his light into my car. He was probably looking at a ghost, because I felt all my color drain. His eyes darted over my face, and he frowned again. “Not supposed to give out any information on victims. But I don’t want you getting into an accident doing a hundred miles an hour with this fog. She was banged up, but talking.” He