Rescue by Anita Shreve Read Free Book Online Page B

amended. “No injuries.”
    “Why did you leave?”
    Burrows spoke. “It looked like a hoax. The girl saying the mother’s boyfriend had raped and beaten her. The girl struck me
     as lying about the injuries.”
    “Did you examine her?”
    “No. She wouldn’t let me touch her.”
    “You take the mother to Mercy. We’ll deal with the daughter. I’d say you and the probie here just stepped in a big one.”
    It was worse than either Burrows or Webster had predicted. Evidence of sexual assault was collected from the daughter at the
     hospital. At least two crimes had been committed: a fifteen-year-old girl had been raped; the same girl had thrown acid at
     her mother. The mother had serious burns, including to her cornea.
    “I’m gonna get my ass hauled,” Burrows said to Webster on the way back from the scene.
    “I was with you every step of the way,” Webster said.
    “Noble, but it doesn’t fly. I was the crew chief. I was in charge.”
    “I’ll back you up.”
    “You’ll stay out of it. You hear me, probie? You followed my orders. That’s it. Me, I’ll keep my job. You? You’ll be outta
     Rescue before you finish washing down the Bullet. They question you, you say you followed orders. Is that understood?”
    Webster nodded.
    “What was that?” Burrows asked again, this time in a loud voice.
    “I got it,” Webster said.
    “All we had to do was fucking stay put,” Burrows muttered, shaking his head.
    Webster had had patients die on him, and that was hard enough. But to have harmed a patient by not remaining at the scene
     was brutal.
    They drove past the town hall, a brick ranch turned into the seat of government. The library had two stories and a stone facade,
     but it, too, looked fake, as though it might once have been a feed and grain store. Webster had never been a scholar, but
     he read at night for pleasure.
    The rig passed by Keezer’s Diner, nearly full now at 11:30, every vehicle outside a pickup truck with tools and blue tarps
     in the back. He wondered if Sheila was working. Mother’s Country Kitchen had gone out of business, but the Quilt Shop was
     still hanging in there. Webster was familiar with every shop and service in town. Sometimes he liked to cross the border into
     New York and drive to a place he’d never been before. Explore a town in which he knew no one.
    They passed the Maple Leaf Gift Shop, Armand’s Pizzeria,and Roberts Funeral Home. On a lane behind the funeral home was the American Legion Hall, the place where just four years
     ago his class had held its senior prom. Webster took the next left into Fire Rescue. He parked the Bullet in its spot: facing
     out, ready to go again. Burrows headed for the building.
    Webster walked to the front of the Bullet and stared out into the morning. The snow was still on the trees from the night
     before, and the sun turned it all into crystals. He had a hankering to go skiing. He wondered if Sheila skied and thought
     not. He’d looked up Chelsea on a map, and it was a long way from anything with a chairlift.
    He moved just outside the garage door opening. He would go to see her as soon as he got out of work.
    He longed to get Sheila out of that porch room with the creepy landlords who ate Devil Dogs. He couldn’t imagine what they
     looked like, and he hoped he’d never have to meet them. But get her out where? He couldn’t bring her to his parents’ house.
     Out of the question. She didn’t have anything but the earnings from her hustle and maybe a week’s paycheck. He’d like to get
     on a plane with her and go someplace warm. It would take him months to earn enough money for two plane tickets, without dipping
     into his savings. Where would they go? Florida? Mexico? The two of them on the beach, he in bathing trunks, she in a bikini,
     a pair of piña coladas between them.
    “Webster!”
    Webster turned to the door of the squad room.
    “What the hell are you doing, probie?” Burrows asked. “Making