“You are evaluating me.”
“I’m retired.”
“Still bossy.”
“That part is permanent.”
She cut the lower seam of his jeans with trauma shears.
Bruising.
Swelling.
No obvious deformity.
Evelyn touched along the shin.
Daniel hissed.
“Possible fracture.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I dislike that sentence.”
“You dislike many things.”
“I’m developing the list quickly.”
She wrapped the leg.
Improvised support.
Then handed him water.
“Small sips.”
Daniel drank.
His hands shook slightly.
Evelyn noticed.
She noticed everything.
That frightened him more than pain.
“How far is your house?” he asked.
She stopped.
“I did not say I was taking you home.”
“No.”
“You’re thinking it.”
Evelyn looked toward the highway.
The smart choice was the nearest clinic.
Forty minutes east.
But Daniel had specifically warned about emergency dispatch.
Could he be lying?
Of course.
Could he be a criminal?
Yes.
Could whoever attacked him return?
Also yes.
She looked at the damaged motorcycle.
Then his face.
“Are you armed?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
“Where?”
“Inside jacket.”
Evelyn stepped backward.
“Remove it slowly.”
Daniel reached inside and produced a compact handgun.
He placed it carefully in the dirt.
Evelyn stared.
“Legal?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it later.”
She picked it up using the edge of the blanket.
Then took the magazine out with practiced awkwardness.
Daniel raised an eyebrow.
“Emergency nurse?”
“My husband taught me.”
“Same husband who hated roadside assistance?”
“Yes.”
“He sounds interesting.”
“He was exhausting.”
Daniel smiled.
Evelyn placed the weapon separately in her medical bag.
“Anything else?”
“Knife.”
“Where?”
“Boot.”
She removed it.
“Phone?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“Destroyed.”
“By the crash?”
“Before.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because they can track it.”
“Of course they can.”
She sighed.
“This day was boring when I woke up.”
Daniel’s smile disappeared.
“You can still leave.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Stop saying that.”
“You don’t know what this is.”
“Neither do you apparently.”
“I know enough.”
“So do I.”
“What?”
“That somebody wanted you badly enough to put a truck into a motorcycle.”
Daniel said nothing.
Evelyn continued.
“And that if I leave you here, I will spend the rest of my life wondering whether you died after I drove away.”
The sentence came out differently than she intended.
Daniel heard something beneath it.
Regret.
Old.
Heavy.
His voice softened.
“You’ve done that before?”
Evelyn looked away.
“Different situation.”
“Still regret.”
“Yes.”
Daniel studied her.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
Evelyn looked back.
“Fine what?”
“I stop telling you to leave.”
“Good.”
“But if I say drive, you drive.”
She almost laughed.
“You have very quickly misunderstood who is making decisions.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“God help me.”
“He’s probably busy.”
Moving him took twelve minutes.
Daniel could put some weight on the good leg.