“Rachel, please, please.” Breathing, breathing until she felt light-headed. She looked at the man as he worked to start Rachel’s heart. His eyes held hopelessness. Adria shook her head, tears tracing like fire down her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t give up until you do.”
“Then we won’t give up.”
They were still trying to breathe life into Rachel when the ambulance came. Adria sat in the rising surf, watching as they worked on Rachel. They punched needles into her arm, set up an IV of some clear liquid. They did what Adria and the man had done, but nothing worked.
Adria noticed the world looked flat, one-dimensional. There was no depth to anything. And all the noises seemed distant, dreamlike. She stared at her own hand and couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Why had everything changed?
They strapped Rachel to a gurney and began to carry her up the steps to the road. The police came in a flash of red and blue lights, a kaleidoscope against the darkness. There were men asking questions, but Adria couldn’t concentrate on it, she couldn’t hear them. Someone had thrown a jacket over her shoulders; it was too big and sleeves flapped in the wind as she followed the gurney to the ambulance.
A tall man with a gold shield clipped to his coat stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll need to ask you a few questions.”
She nodded. “I understand, but later.” She looked up at him. “I have to go to the hospital, for Rachel.”
“I understand. Just tell us where he went. You are our only witness.”
She nodded, “He swam out to sea.”
The detective frowned. “Are you sure?”
“He swam out to sea.”
“Thank you.”
A second detective pushed close and looked ready to ask other questions, but there must have been something in her face that stopped him. “We’ll talk to you tomorrow then, miss.”
She nodded and crawled into the ambulance. Adria made herself as small as possible riding in the corner, not crying anymore. Everything seemed so distant, unreal, dreamlike. The world wasn’t meant to be flat, like cardboard.
The sirens blared to life, and they were out on the highway in a spill of gravel and brakes. She looked up at the paramedic as he checked Rachel one more time. He met Adria’s eyes once and then wouldn’t look at her again. Wasn’t it a bad sign when they wouldn’t look at you?
“She’s a doctor.”
He glanced at Adria. “What?”
“Dr. Rachel Corbin, that’s her name.” It seemed important that he know she was a doctor. Adria wasn’t sure why, but if anything made Rachel who she was, it was that. She was a doctor.
He whispered, “Oh, God.” And shouted something through the window to the driver.
Rachel’s hospital was the nearest one, so very close. They would take Rachel to Rachel’s hospital, Rachel’s emergency room.
THE police drove Adria back home as dawn was easing through the clouds. She stood in her own living room, looking out the sliding glass door. The sea was an immense blue, rolling out and out until it touched the sky.
The sun was rising and Rachel wasn’t rushing out to her car. Adria would still be in bed. The vague roar of Rachel’s car was one of the sounds of morning. But not today.
The doctors had given her something to take. They said she was in shock. She hadn’t taken the pills yet, and if this was shock, it didn’t feel so bad. It didn’t feel like anything. Adria felt distant, light, as if a strong wind would blow her away, shatter her into slivers of glass. She knew Rachel was dead, but it was a distant knowing, as if all of last night had happened to someone else.
If she walked into the other room, Rachel’s things would be there waiting. But Rachel would never come for them. Adria tried to make last night a lie as she stared out at the sea. So bright and blue, so inviting.
The dark-haired detective said, “Ms. Reynolds, do you feel up to answering questions now? I wouldn’t ask, but you are our only witness, and the sooner we start, the sooner we can catch him.”
She answered without turning around, staring out the window. “Yes, I understand.”
“Tell me what happened last night; take your time.”
Adria took a deep breath and let it out. Her voice belonged to someone else. She listened to some other person tell about waking up and going out to look for Rachel. The voice that was hers and not hers told everything, even glimpses of something impossible.
The second detective had gold-framed glasses that didn’t quite hide his eyes. “Excuse me, Ms. Reynolds. Would you repeat that, please?”