father found out they'd been together, what would he do? And what could Max do? Thinking about her brother made Isabel feel even more guilty. Max had been through enough. Knowing she might have found happiness would make his own loss seem even sharper.
She looked around, knowing one couldn't do anything except wait for what was going to happen. All she could do was wait for the inevitable.
Taking a deep breath, Isabel nodded to Jesse and tried to calm herself. The odds were astronomical of her father actually seeing the documents generated by the state police or other law enforcement bodies.
Jesse started talking to the 911-dispatch person at the other end of the cell-phone connection, giving the person the location and the details of the wreck.
Staying focused on the van, Isabel started moving forward again, walking along the top of the vehicle rather than the undercarriage. Her imagination filled her mind with the possible bloody carnage that might be waiting.
The van's windshield had shattered with the series of impacts. Small, cube-shaped pieces of safety glass glittered like diamonds in a spray across the paved parking area and the sandy picnic area. The pieces glistened among the shattered remains of the demolished picnic table, too.
Before Isabel reached the front of the van, Jesse caught her by the elbow and stopped her. She turned to face him.
"What are you doing?" Jesse asked.
"Checking on the driver," Isabel replied.
"Don't you smell the gasoline?" Jesse asked, pulling at her and trying to guide her away from the wrecked vehicle. "This van could explode."
"If this were a movie or a TV show, maybe," Isabel responded.
A tender look filled Jesse's face. "I'm serious, Isabel. I want you to back off. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'm going to check on the driver," Isabel insisted.
"I can do that."
"You're suddenly invulnerable?"
Jesse stared to argue.
"We'll do this," Isabel said. "I've had first-aid courses."
Jesse looked like he wanted to offer a rebuttal to her decision, but before he got the chance, a woman's voice lifted in a terrified wail.
"My baby!" she screamed. "Someone help my baby!"
Isabel spun then, heading for the front of the van. A chill ran through her as she thought about a baby being aboard the wrecked van.
The gasoline smell became stronger. Heat baked into the ground, reminding Isabel that the danger of a fire was real, not something inspired by special effects in a show.
She reached the front of the van, dropped to her hands and knees, and peered inside the vehicle. After being out in the bright sun, adjusting to the darkness inside the van took a moment.
The driver fought against the seat belt restraints, trying desperately to reach into the backseat. She was in her middle or late twenties, with blond hair and pale features. Blood streaked her face, but more fright showed than pain. The air bag stood out from the steering wheel compartment.
Isabel couldn't see how bad the woman's head wound was, and she knew from first-aid classes that those kinds of wounds bled profusely. "Hey," she said as calmly as she could.
The woman still kept reaching into the rear of the van, but she looked at Isabel. "Help me!" she croaked.
"I will," Isabel said, then moved aside so Jesse could join her. "We will."
"My baby!" the woman said.
"We'll get your baby," Isabel promised. She peered into the back of the van.
Two more rows of seats were behind the captains' chairs. Boxes and bags from the cargo area littered the inside of the van. As she looked at all the destruction in the van, Isabel wondered how a small child could have survived the wreck. Don't think like that, she told herself. Everything is going to be fine. She's still alive. The child has got to be alive too. Just the same, Isabel wished Max were there.
Jesse reached into the van and pulled on the seat restraints holding the woman locked into position behind the collapsed steering wheel. "It's no use. The locking mechanism is
She looked around, knowing one couldn't do anything except wait for what was going to happen. All she could do was wait for the inevitable.
Taking a deep breath, Isabel nodded to Jesse and tried to calm herself. The odds were astronomical of her father actually seeing the documents generated by the state police or other law enforcement bodies.
Jesse started talking to the 911-dispatch person at the other end of the cell-phone connection, giving the person the location and the details of the wreck.
Staying focused on the van, Isabel started moving forward again, walking along the top of the vehicle rather than the undercarriage. Her imagination filled her mind with the possible bloody carnage that might be waiting.
The van's windshield had shattered with the series of impacts. Small, cube-shaped pieces of safety glass glittered like diamonds in a spray across the paved parking area and the sandy picnic area. The pieces glistened among the shattered remains of the demolished picnic table, too.
Before Isabel reached the front of the van, Jesse caught her by the elbow and stopped her. She turned to face him.
"What are you doing?" Jesse asked.
"Checking on the driver," Isabel replied.
"Don't you smell the gasoline?" Jesse asked, pulling at her and trying to guide her away from the wrecked vehicle. "This van could explode."
"If this were a movie or a TV show, maybe," Isabel responded.
A tender look filled Jesse's face. "I'm serious, Isabel. I want you to back off. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I'm going to check on the driver," Isabel insisted.
"I can do that."
"You're suddenly invulnerable?"
Jesse stared to argue.
"We'll do this," Isabel said. "I've had first-aid courses."
Jesse looked like he wanted to offer a rebuttal to her decision, but before he got the chance, a woman's voice lifted in a terrified wail.
"My baby!" she screamed. "Someone help my baby!"
Isabel spun then, heading for the front of the van. A chill ran through her as she thought about a baby being aboard the wrecked van.
The gasoline smell became stronger. Heat baked into the ground, reminding Isabel that the danger of a fire was real, not something inspired by special effects in a show.
She reached the front of the van, dropped to her hands and knees, and peered inside the vehicle. After being out in the bright sun, adjusting to the darkness inside the van took a moment.
The driver fought against the seat belt restraints, trying desperately to reach into the backseat. She was in her middle or late twenties, with blond hair and pale features. Blood streaked her face, but more fright showed than pain. The air bag stood out from the steering wheel compartment.
Isabel couldn't see how bad the woman's head wound was, and she knew from first-aid classes that those kinds of wounds bled profusely. "Hey," she said as calmly as she could.
The woman still kept reaching into the rear of the van, but she looked at Isabel. "Help me!" she croaked.
"I will," Isabel said, then moved aside so Jesse could join her. "We will."
"My baby!" the woman said.
"We'll get your baby," Isabel promised. She peered into the back of the van.
Two more rows of seats were behind the captains' chairs. Boxes and bags from the cargo area littered the inside of the van. As she looked at all the destruction in the van, Isabel wondered how a small child could have survived the wreck. Don't think like that, she told herself. Everything is going to be fine. She's still alive. The child has got to be alive too. Just the same, Isabel wished Max were there.
Jesse reached into the van and pulled on the seat restraints holding the woman locked into position behind the collapsed steering wheel. "It's no use. The locking mechanism is
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