of the road and followed the man at a trot. They reached the reason for the backlogged traffic: a tractor trailer jackknifed in the road, blocking both lanes. Several ambulances and patrol cars were on the scene, parked away from the wreck. Lights flashed, and a paramedic attended a uniformed man. Likely the truck driver.
Jay’s escort grabbed him by the arm, dragging him closer to the scene. “I found someone,” he shouted. The hood of a small car was wedged underneath the trailer. It looked as though the shiny silver tanker truck had tried to eat the tiny blue Ford Focus.
“Thank God!” one of the officers cried, rushing over. Jay recognized him as one of Angie’s former boyfriends. A beefy arm draped his shoulders and the guy guided him closer to the wreck. “Damn, Ortiz, you have no idea how glad I am to see you here. There’s a family in there,” he pointed toward the car, “and they won’t let us get them out. I don’t think they understand English.”
The scent of gasoline stung Jay’s nose. Liquid pooled from underneath the car. Please let it just be water from a busted radiator. If it was gas, one spark and… “Hey, Steve. What’s the problem?” he asked.
“The woman is out cold and the kids are afraid and won’t unlock the doors. We have to get them out, but we don’t want to use force if we don’t have to.” Sergeant Steve Bledsoe, a big bear of a man, was probably the wrong choice to send to deal with a bunch of frightened kids. He’d towered over the tiny Angie. Hell, he towered over Jay, and had presented a scary vision the first time the door had opened to reveal his uniform-clad self filling the doorway of the house Jay and Angie shared with a handful of other students. Small wonder that the kids were frightened. “The car is registered to a Theresa Martinez over in Hanley,” Officer Steve added.
A large immigrant population resided there, and Angie, a registered nurse at Mercy General in Hanley, had called upon him as a translator more than once. He eased toward the car door so as not to spook the kids. Better to try on the passenger side instead of the driver’s where a woman lay slumped against the steering wheel. Her face was hidden, but blood marred her hair. Jay crossed himself and said a prayer. Three boys, ranging in ages from approximately ten to four, stared back at him. The terror reflected in their dark eyes momentarily reminded him of Michael, waking from a nightmare. May these kids never know that kind of fear.
All three were yelling at once, the two younger ones in the backseat nearly hysterical. Their older brother, in front in the passenger seat, trying to comfort them, was too frightened himself to have much effect.
“Mamá! Mamá!” the youngest screamed. As calmly as he could, Jay approached, keeping to the patches of dry asphalt, alert to the encroaching pool of what could be water, gasoline, or a mix. Like before with Angie, his own doubts couldn’t be allowed to show. He must appear cool, confident, and in control if he was to win the kids over.
He pasted on what he hoped passed for a friendly smile. “Hello,” he said, tapping at the window beside the oldest boy. “I’m Javier Ortiz. What’s your name?” A baleful glare answered him. He greeted them again in Spanish.
The kids began rattling away, all talking at once. “Whoa! Whoa!” Jay said, palms raised. “Why don’t you let your older brother talk first?” The two in the backseat nodded and fell silent. The younger reached out and clutched his brother’s hand.
“I’m Miguel,” the oldest boy said in Spanish. Based on his accent, Jay would guess he came from somewhere near Chihuahua. “Those are my brothers, Mario and Juan-Carlos.”
Jay forced another wide display of teeth. “Juan-Carlos? Really? My father’s name is Juan-Carlos, and I have a cousin named Mario.” Two cousins, truth be told.
Miguel’s shoulders relaxed slightly and the boys in the back settled. Being able to understand what was being said probably had a lot to do with their comfort level.
Steve, standing off the side, hissed, “We need to hurry.”
“I know,” Jay whispered from the side of his mouth through his faked smile. “As long as they’re scared, they won’t cooperate.” A half-dozen younger sisters had taught him that.
Miguel’s suspicion-filled eyes narrowed at the cop. “He wants to take my brothers away.” What an amazingly