Free Leaving Annalise (Katie & Annalise Book 2) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins Page A

Annalise?” I whispered.
    Movement, on my right. There. There she was. I turned to follow her through the great room, catching a glimpse of a flash of skirt and the bottom of a bare and dusty foot as she ran out the open front door. I ran, too. Footsteps pounded behind me, but I didn’t look to see who they belonged to. I stumbled at the threshold and caught myself just before I tumbled headfirst down the steps—hands to the ground in a bear crawl—then resumed my flight.
    At the bottom of the front steps, I searched for her. She was halfway up the entrance lane to my left, her white blouse sailing behind her. I kicked my flip-flops off and tried to match her pace, but she was as fleet as one of the tiny island deer. The distance between us increased. The scarf she wore over her hair flew off and tumbled in the air through the avocado trees on the side of the road and into the brambly tan-tan beyond, and she stopped and turned to look back at me. She motioned with her arm toward the gate and pointed. I looked ahead a hundred feet and saw sparks shooting from the utility pole by the entrance. I looked back at her for confirmation, but she was gone.
    I ran again, harder, toward the entrance, a yellow masonry structure with no metal spindles yet where metal spindles one day soon would be. And, for that matter, there was no actual gate across the opening where one day soon a gate would be. A work in progress, like the rest of Annalise.
    “What is it?” Nick’s voice, right behind me.
    “I don’t know,” I panted, and pointed ahead.
    We were almost there. Nick outpaced me now and Rashidi outran him. Rashidi reached the pole first. By then, I could see Crazy’s old patchwork pickup truck parked outside the fence. A green quarter panel here, a maroon tailgate there, and a black hood; a tribute to his thrift and resourcefulness. Beside his truck was a white truck with a decal that said Water and Power Authority, better known as WAPA.
    Two blue-uniformed men were kneeling between the pole and the trucks, looking down into the tall grass on the side of the road. WAPA employees. Rashidi was with them, and now Nick. I was only yards away. Rashidi was crouching with his hands outstretched. Finally, finally, I was there, too. Crazy lay in the tall grass with his right arm twitching and his index finger pointing. His mouth was moving.
    “Crazy!” I cried, throwing myself down beside him and grabbing his left hand. “Did someone call an ambulance?”
    The WAPA men looked at each other.
    Rashidi pulled out his phone. “No signal. I run back to the house and call.” We had cell reception at Annalise, but only at the house. It was fifteen minutes to get back within range once you left her hilltop.
    “Hang in there, Crazy Grove,” I said, squeezing his hand.
    “What happened?” Nick asked the workers.
    The heavier one spoke. “We start to connect the electrixity for the house. Mr. Wingrove stand at the pole with us. The transformer blow. He fall to the ground.”
    I looked at his name tag. “Did he get electrocuted, Mr. Nelson?” I asked. I put the cool backside of my hand on Crazy’s brow. His eyes locked onto mine as he continued to work his lips and jaw. If he was trying to speak, I couldn’t make out the words.
    Nelson said, “I don’t think so. We standing right here, too, and we feel no shock. He just fall.”
    My mind raced through the possibilities, but my medical knowledge was limited to back episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. I looked up at Nick. “A heart attack?”
    “Maybe. Or a stroke, or an aneurysm.” He closed his eyes, then rubbed his hand through his hair.
    Rashidi was back. “I call for help. They say an hour to get here.”
    “An hour? He can’t wait an hour,” I said. I looked up at Nick. “Can you bring my truck? We’ll take him to the hospital ourselves.”
    He nodded. “Keys?”
    “In the ignition.”
    Nick sprinted toward the house. Rashidi knelt beside Crazy and me again. A croaking