Free Red Hook Road by Ayelet Waldman Page A

off me.” Jane jerked her shoulder, flinging his hand away. Then, suddenly, she lunged for the sheriff, grabbing the front of his shirt with both her hands. She was a big woman, strong from years spent clomping up and down stairs, hauling heavy vacuum cleaners and baskets of laundry, and she had a good grip on his shirt. She shook him, yelling, “Get him out!” One of his buttons popped off and stung her on the chest. The round red mark that the button made on her thin, freckled skin would, over the next week, slowly fade to a yellow bruise and then disappear, but for the rest of her life, whenever she thought of her dead son, she would rub the spot, sure she could feel a small, dimpled button of sorrow.
    Sheriff Paige gently but firmly removed Jane’s hands from his shirt and held her wrists for a long moment. When he let her go, she collapsed. He caught her in his arms and eased her to the ground.
    Iris knelt down by Jane’s side. The sheriff backed away, motioning tohis deputies and to the fire chief to give the women some space, a little air, as if inches and oxygen would make it easier for them to assimilate the horror of their children’s deaths.
    Jane sat in the dirt, thick legs splayed, head hanging, elbows resting on her thighs, hands limp between her knees. Iris hovered next to her, watching as tears rolled from Jane’s closed eyes, down the length of her nose, hung there for a moment, and then dropped onto the pebbly soil. Iris put her hand up to her own face. Her eyes felt dry, gritty, like she’d opened them into a sandstorm.
    The tide was going out and the firemen rolled down the tops of their tall, rubber waders. With a screech of metal against metal, they finally managed to pry the car door off its hinges. Someone turned off the motor of the Jaws of Life and its grinding roar gave way to a sudden silence. Iris could hear the creaking of the trees, the hiss of the wind in the leaves, a single, mournful loon calling across the water, the sound of tires on the sandy grass at the edge of the road. Then doors opening and slamming, one by one. She didn’t turn around to see who it was.
    Two of the volunteer firemen stood in front of the car, a shield, Iris thought, to block her and Jane’s view as they pulled John’s body out of the car. Only once it was hidden from sight in the black body bag did they step aside. Iris watched them carry the bag, two men on either side, to the pointless ambulance. The four of them then picked up the second bag, and methodically loaded it into the ambulance, too. Then the third. Then the fourth. Then, quietly, without slamming them, one of the firefighters closed the rear doors of the ambulance. The engine started and the ambulance rolled slowly away, skirting the cruisers that partially blocked the road.
    Iris stood up. She hesitated for a moment and then offered her hand to Jane. The other woman shook her head and hoisted herself to her feet. They stood side by side, staring at the twisted wreckage, then, wordlessly, they turned and walked to their families, who stood beyond the police tape. Maureen and Daniel stood together, Daniel squinting against the smoke from Maureen’s cigarette. Matt hung back, close to Daniel’s car, which he had pulled up next to Jane’s.
    Daniel opened his arms and Iris came over and leaned into them, closing her eyes. She felt his heart beating beneath the firm muscles of hisbroad chest, and for some reason the steady thump allowed her to resume her tears.
    “Let’s go home,” Daniel said. “Matt, Maureen, do you two want to go with your mother?”
    “I’m staying,” Jane said flatly. “I’m staying until they tow it away.”
    The sheriff, who stood at a small remove from them, said, “We’ve got a flatbed coming in from Newmarket to haul the cars up to the Department of Transportation yard.”
    “Why do you want to do that, Mum?” Maureen said. “It’s just a damn car.”
    “Still.”
    Maureen sighed, dropped her cigarette