“…and the glory, forever and ever…”

“Probably needs to be cathed and bypassed,” Tory said. “Flynn?”

Flynn closed her eyes. Amen. She took a breath and keyed her radio. “Dave, we need a stretcher in here STAT.”

Tory slowly climbed down from the stool she had been using to get proper leverage for chest compression. Her right leg seemed to fold and she lost her balance. Flynn reached to steady her, but Reese was there, unobtrusively cupping Tory’s elbow.

“Got you,” Reese said.

“Thanks,” Tory murmured.

“All right?”

“Fine.” Tory glanced at Reese. “Really.”

The worry in Reese’s eyes and the tender assurance from Tory stirred a bittersweet surge of longing in Flynn’s chest. She averted her gaze, not wanting to intrude, needing to distance herself from desires that too often left her lonely and uncertain.

“Flynn,” Reese said, “how about I get a cruiser over here to escort you up-Cape. Help clear traffic out.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

The rattle of wheels and clank of metal signaled Dave’s approach. Flynn detached the plastic IV bag from the metal pole at the end of the table, adjusted the drip to its lowest rate, and settled the bag on the sheet covering the patient’s legs. Next she started transferring the EKG leads from the bedside monitor to the portable unit. “It will only take us a few minutes to get him ready.”

Tory said, “Thanks, Flynn. For everything.”

Heat suffused Flynn’s face. She’d decided when she began her paramedic training program that the only skills she would use in the field were medical. Her job now wasn’t to save souls, but to help save lives. Today had been an unexpected, unavoidable situation. She could no more not do what she had done than walk away from an accident victim in danger of dying for want of medical care. She appreciated that Tory didn’t question her about anything. “You’re welcome.”

The patient opened his eyes, his pupils flickering unevenly, his gaze roving from face to face. With each second his expression became more confused and frightened. “What…”

“It’s all right, Ned,” Nita said quickly. “We’re going to transfer you to the hospital in Hyannis. You may have had a heart attack, but you’re doing okay now.”

“Maggie?” he asked, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

“I tried to call your wife earlier and got her voice mail. I’ll call her again,” Nita said firmly. “Right now you just relax.”

“What happened? I don’t remember…”

“You had an irregular heartbeat, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Am I going to die?”

“You had a rough patch, but you’re very stable now.” Nita smiled and squeezed his arm. “Dave and Flynn will take you to the hospital. They’ll be in touch with us if there are any problems along the way.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s serious,” Nita said gently. “But I’m telling you the truth. You need to be in the hospital, but your chances of doing well are very good.”

“I need to see my minister.” Ned turned his head from side to side, looking anxiously from one face to another. “I need my phone. I need to call Father Williams.”

Tory said, “I’ll try to reach him and let him know where you are. But we can’t really wait, Ned. I’m sorry. I want you in the hospital as quickly as possible.”

“Please,” Ned said, his voice rising. “I need—”

“Mr. Framingham,” Flynn said, clasping his hand. His skin had warmed, and some of the color had returned to his face. The terrible stillness of almost-death had passed. “I’m a priest. I’ve given you last rites. Your minister will be able to see you later.”

The shadows disappeared from Ned’s eyes. “Thank you…do I call you Father?”

She smiled. “You can. Or Reverend. Or you can just call me Flynn.”

“Father Flynn,” he muttered and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Flynn,” Tory said again. “Now we really need to move him.”

“We’re on it.” Flynn and Dave worked on opposite sides of the treatment table, silently performing their practiced routine of transferring patient, intravenous lines, catheters, and monitoring devices to the stretcher.

“I’ll be across the hall,” Tory said to Reese. “I have another patient to check, and then we can head to the airport.”

“You’re sure? Not too tired?”

Tory smiled. “Believe me, it will feel like a vacation.”

“Can I come with you?” Flynn asked over her shoulder.

“Yes,” Tory said.

“You got this, Dave?” Flynn asked. “I’ll just be a second.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll finish up and give you a holler,” Dave said.

Flynn followed Tory across the hall and into the treatment room where they’d left Mica. Stomach sinking, she stared at the empty treatment table.

“Maybe she went to the bathroom.” Tory turned back to the hall.

“No,” Flynn said, “she’s gone.”

“Well, damn it,” Tory muttered, standing in the doorway of the treatment room with her hands on her hips.

“Trouble?” Reese joined them and slid her hand onto the back of Tory’s neck.

“I don’t know. My patient seems to have disappeared.” Tory frowned and looked at Flynn. “Did you get the sense she was going to run?”

Flynn grimaced. “No, but I probably should have. She was reluctant to come at all, but I thought once she was here she’d be okay.”

“Who was she?” Reese asked.

“A young girl who’d been knocked off her bicycle by a car,” Tory said. “Did you check her ID, Flynn?”

“No. I just assumed the officers on scene did. She said her name was Mica Butler.”

“Really? She didn’t look like a Butler,” Tory said.

Flynn grimaced. Mica’s disappearance was accomplishing exactly what Mica seemed to want to avoid—attention. “Lots of reasons for that.”

“You’re right, of course,” Tory said.

“And now she’s just gone?” Reese scanned the hall. “Maybe she’s still here somewhere.”

“I don’t think so,” Tory said.

Dave pushed the gurney with Mr. Framingham out of the other treatment room. “Ready to roll, Flynn.”

Flynn hesitated. “Will you let me know if you find her, Dr. King?”

Tory nodded. “I should probably check the bathroom, but I don’t think she’s in there.”

“Thanks.” Flynn grasped the end of the stretcher. “Okay, let’s get Mr. Framingham to Hyannis.”

Tory pushed open the door to the bathroom. “Empty.”

“How much do you know about this girl?” Reese asked as she and Tory checked the other rooms. Mica was gone.

“Very little, really. I was just starting to evaluate her when Ned crashed.” Tory collected her missing patient’s chart and carried it back to her office. She sat behind her desk, and Reese settled on a chair in front of it. Tory scanned the intake sheets. “Flynn’s field report doesn’t indicate anything out of the ordinary. The girl was conscious upon initial evaluation. I don’t have the first responder’s report—that would’ve been filled out by your people.”

“Let me find out who took the call.” Reese pulled her cell from her front pocket. “Did you get the sense something else was going on with her, other than the accident itself?”

“As Flynn said, she seemed reluctant to be here. She wasn’t very forthcoming with information, but that’s not unusual with trauma patients. They’re often confused or disoriented.” Tory replayed the earlier scene in her mind. “There were a few things that bothered me. She seemed to be a little too familiar with physical injury. I didn’t have a chance to talk to her about her past medical history.”

“Domestic abuse?” Reese punched in a series of numbers. “Hey, Gladys. It’s Reese. Can you run down who took the accident call a half hour ago and have them call me? Thanks.”

“Abuse is certainly a possibility,” Tory said. “But her reference to previous fractures and a black eye could have been due to an old trauma. I thought she was being uncommunicative as a result of today’s accident. Obviously, I was wrong. What I took to be post-traumatic confusion was more…distrust.”

“Or guilt?”

“Hmm. Maybe.” Tory sighed. “If pushed, I’d say she was afraid of something. I wish I’d had more time to talk with her.”

“Well, I trust your instincts. If you think something was off, then something was.” Reese impatiently flipped her phone back and forth in her hand. “This town is a challenging place to keep safe. Most of the year keeping the peace is just a matter of dealing with medical emergencies, traffic accidents, missing kids, and the alcohol-related domestic problems that come with too few jobs and too much time. Then tourist season hits, the population swells by a magnitude of ten, and we’ve suddenly got a village crammed with itinerant workers, partying teenagers, and more sophisticated criminal types.”

“You mean drugs and prostitution?”

Reese nodded. “And not just the homegrown back-room sex-for-sale variety either. Resort towns are starting to become targets for organized crime.”

“I can’t imagine this girl was involved in anything like that. She seemed more like a runaway, if I had to categorize her.”

“Is she at risk physically as a result of the accident?”

“I don’t think so—probably not. My initial exam didn’t show anything of major concern. I wanted to observe her a while, and then Ned… I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job with her.” Tory pushed the chart aside, checked her watch, and stood. “Damn it. We should go.”

“Baby,” Reese murmured, putting her arms around Tory’s waist. “You had a guy dying across the hall. Cut yourself some slack here.”

“I know.” Tory leaned into Reese’s embrace. “But just because someone isn’t dying doesn’t mean their need isn’t just as great.”

Reese kissed Tory and drew her closer. “Nobody in the world does this job better than you. Let me see what I can find out about her. Do you still want to go to Boston?”