Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
After gathering the girls (and against angry protests from both), she all but dragged them to Harvard Square, where the finish line was. Thankfully, her in-laws were already there, holding a spot for them.
“We didn’t think you’d make it,” Cleo, her mother-in-law, said. Her tone had a bite to it, which Nadia didn’t appreciate. Over the past year, Cleo’s attitude toward Nadia had iced, for unknown reasons. Nadia had mentioned it a few times to Rafe, who had witnessed a couple of encounters of his own. He, too, didn’t understand the change in demeanor. Nor had Otto, Rafe’s father.
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Nadia said as she fought against rolling her eyes. She moved the girls to the front and then stood next to Otto, apologizing to the people behind him.
“How was our boy this morning?” Otto asked. Rafe was their only boy. He was the older brother of Freya. Uncle to Leif and Astrid. Brother-in-law to Lars.
“He was good. Ready to have fun. He said he’d finish in under an hour.” Nadia looked at the time on her phone. “Which should be soon.” She pressed the button for her video camera and told the girls to start watching for their dad.
Nadia leaned forward but didn’t see any runners coming toward her. She wondered if the race had started late, which was possible. Rarely did anything start on time these days.
A medical alert tone sounded. Nadia glanced across the street at the medical tent, which had been set up at the finish line to aid runners if they needed attention. She watched as medical personnel grabbed their bags. Two medics ran up the street, while another few jumped into one of those utility vehicles known as side-by-sides. Her eyes followed them up the middle of the race route, where spectators scrambled.
Then she heard it.
The screaming.
The sirens.
“Something’s wrong,” she said to Otto, Cleo, to whoever heard her. “Someone’s hurt.”
Lynnea went to Nadia, with her hands covering her ears. Otto picked her up. “Grandpa will hold you,” he said to her.
Very few people moved away from the finish line, and those who stayed watched with rapt attention, waiting for some news. An uncomfortable silence fell over the crowd.
“Where’s Rafe?” Cleo asked.
Nadia pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at his location. He was near where the ambulance was blocking the street. Her husband was up there, likely helping whoever needed aid.
“I’ll be right back,” she told her in-laws. She made her way through the crowd, periodically looking at her phone and where she was going. When she saw an opening into the street, she took it and briskly walked toward the commotion. Halfway there, she pressed Rafe’s name and held her phone to her ear.
No answer.
“Hey, babe. It’s me. Just checking to see where you are. We know something happened on the course. Call me.” She hung up after leaving the voicemail and called him back. Again, no answer.
The closer she came to the commotion, the more anxious she felt. A police officer stopped her from coming any closer to the ambulance. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go this way.”
“My husband . . . ,” she started to say and then stopped. Nadia tapped her phone and pulled up Rafe’s location. “This says he’s in there, somewhere. I need to find him.”
The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there. All the runners have been sent back toward the starting line.”
Nadia looked at her phone again. “But he’s there.”
Instead of repeating himself, he directed her toward the sidewalk, where a horde of people had gathered. She pushed her way through the crowd until she could get to the sidewalk. If Rafe would just answer his damn phone, she could stop worrying about him.
“Rafe.” She said his name loudly. “Rafe Karlsson.” This time her voice was a little louder. She continued to call his name until she saw the car, which wasn’t supposed to be there. The front end was pushed against the street, its front caved in. The windows had been shattered and the driver’s side door left open.
Medics and fire personnel gathered around it; some chatted, while others picked up pieces of the mangled car. “Oh God,” she said aloud.
“I know. It’s so sad. I don’t think he’ll survive,” a lady next to Nadia said.
Nadia looked at the woman and asked, “The driver?”
She shook her head. “No, the runner. He saved that woman’s life.” She pointed to another runner, who sat on the road, visibly shaken. She cried while talking to the police and pointing.
The ambulance doors slammed, and the siren roared to life, causing Nadia to shudder. The piercing sound grated her nerves and sent chills down her spine. Tapping the screen on her phone, she tracked Rafe’s location. He was on the move. She looked in the direction he was heading and didn’t see him but could tell he was moving with some speed. Was he running toward her?