Ellen Crosby: The Bordeaux Betrayal

I didn’t expect the water to be so cold, nor the current so strong. Fortunately the creek was only knee-deep where her car had gone in and I could use my cane to keep steady against the swiftly flowing water.

I called her name as I looked through the passenger window, but she didn’t stir. The car was full of water as high as the creek level. The noise as it rushed through the open windows roared in my ears. Near Valerie’s body it was a pale shade of pink and my stomach churned some more.

I guessed that her car must have rolled like a barrel down the embankment head first because the roof was crushed in at the windshield and her airbag had been deployed, meaning the front end had struck something solid. A faint gunpowder odor still permeated the air inside the car. So far Valerie’s face was above water but the caved-in roof—which looked like it was responsible for her injuries—had diminished the interior headroom, leaving little clearance between Valerie and the water level. The ends of her blonde hair, which she’d worn loose, skimmed the surface of the eddying water as did both hands since her arms were now thrown above her head like a supplicant.

I sloshed around to the front of the car, hanging on so I wouldn’t slip. At one point the chassis rocked crazily and I let go in a panic. Had it landed on a tree limb or something else that made it so unsteady? Whatever it was, I had to get Valerie out of here—release her from her seat belt and get her to the bank of the creek.

I hung my cane on the side mirror and fought the urge to throw up as I looked through the driver’s side window. Valerie’s face and hair were blood-soaked and it looked like she’d sustained some injuries on the left side of her chest. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t appear to be breathing. I tried to find her carotid artery and my hand came away bloody.

She was dead.

“Oh, God, Valerie,” I said to her. “I’m so sorry. I’m getting you out of here, honey. They shouldn’t find you looking like a trussed fish.”

The collapsed roof had crushed both front doors making them impossible to open. The back doors were locked. I found the unlock button and heard the click releasing all four doors.

Once I undid her seat belt Valerie would drop like a stone straight into the water. I’d have to grab her before she did, then try to pull her out of the car. She was taller than I, and probably weighed about ten pounds more—maybe a hundred and thirty, give or take. Hopefully I’d be able to carry her, but I wouldn’t be able to use my cane. If worse came to worse, I’d have to drag her.

It no longer mattered if her injuries worsened.

The only way to get into the car was through one of the back doors. The frame between the doors on the driver’s side was also bent, but not so badly that I couldn’t open the back door. I tugged hard on the handle and the car rocked back and forth again.

“Oh, God,” I said under my breath. “Please stay where you are.” I jerked the door and the motion caused my cane to jump and slip off the side mirror. It dropped in the creek with a graceful plop and immediately caught the current, floating downstream. I started to go after it, then let it go. I’d never catch it.

By now the water in the car was a darker shade of pink, almost cherry-colored. I squeezed between the front seats. If I could get Valerie’s seat to recline fully, I could pull her straight back once I released her seat belt, though it meant I needed to do both actions nearly simultaneously and somehow keep my balance in the cramped space.

I snaked my hand between her seat and the door and found the lever. The seat groaned with her weight but I pulled on it so the back was nearly horizontal. Valerie’s face was suddenly right next to mine, bloodied and battered. I sucked in my breath.

“Okay,” I said to her. “Let’s do this on three.” I counted and pushed the release for her seat belt. It caught a button on her blazer and I tried to loosen the belt as she fell on me knocking me backward against the rear seat. My bad foot collapsed and I lost my balance, though at least I didn’t swallow any water.

I backed out of the car and stepped into the creek, tripping over something. Valerie came along with me and we went down together. My head snapped like it was on a spring and my back felt like someone had sliced it open with a razor. This time I did swallow water and it tasted like sour metal. I coughed and spat. God Almighty, what did people dump in Goose Creek?

By the time I got us both to the riverbank, her blood had seeped into my clothes and I was shivering from cold and pain. My back felt like it was on fire. I’d seen what I’d fallen on. Tree limbs.

I dug into my pocket for my cell phone. Waterlogged and ruined. No way to call 911 again, or anyone else.

When the first fire and rescue trucks showed up, I was lying on my side next to Valerie. I heard someone shout that there were two victims as a man in firefighter’s gear knelt by me.

“What happened?” he said.

“Her car went off the road into the creek. I got her out but I think I was too late.”

“We’ll get you to a hospital, miss,” he said.

I tried to sit up. It felt like there was a vise around my head and my back throbbed.

“I wasn’t in the car,” I said. “I tripped over a tree branch in the creek when I pulled her out. I’ve got some cuts on my back and probably some bruises, but that’s all.”

A paramedic joined us. “You’re going to the hospital.”

He meant Catoctin General over in Leesburg. I’d spent months there three years ago learning to walk again after my accident. I didn’t want to go back, especially for something as minor as a few scratches. Even visiting someone there dragged up memories I’d rather forget.

“Thank you, but no thanks,” I said. “I don’t need to go to any hospital.”

He was young with short wiry hair, a wholesome, square face, and friendly eyes. The eyes widened in surprise and I expected him to contradict me. Instead he said, “Let me look at your back.”

He had to cut my shirt open. “Looks like a tic-tac-toe board here. How did you manage to do this?”

“I lined up the tree limbs before I fell on them.”

“Nice,” he said. “Look, I’m going to clean and dress these cuts and put some antibacterial ointment on them. Might sting a bit.”

“It stings now.”

He taped gauze bandages over the deepest cuts. I gritted my teeth and only groaned once while he did it.

“Easy,” he said. “Almost done.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope you can sleep on your stomach for a few days,” he said. “Change those dressings regularly—actually, have someone do it for you. Once the cuts scab over it will be better to let them heal uncovered.”

“Will I have scars?” I didn’t add that I had no “someone” to do it for me.

“You might. Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” He wrapped a Mylar blanket around my shoulders since my shirt was in shreds. I glanced over and saw that Valerie’s body had been covered by some kind of drape.

“Positive.”

“I’ve got to fill out some paperwork that says you’re refusing further medical treatment. And someone needs to come get you once they release you here,” he said. “You’re in no shape to drive.”

A female deputy from the sheriff’s department squatted next to both of us. “I’d like to talk to you, Miss Montgomery, if you don’t mind,” she said. Her badge said “G. Hernandez.”

“Sure.” More emergency vehicles had arrived, blocking the road. Valerie’s car still lay in the creek but now half a dozen deputies and firefighters in rubber boots surrounded it.