Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(6)
There were also two waitresses: the younger one stood next to a table, apparently taking an order, while the other, an older lady, stood behind a long counter lined with stools. Since the second one was looking her way, Mary hurried to the counter and blurted, “There’s a naked man in my RV bedroom.”
Amusement curved the waitress’s lips and she said wryly, “Lucky you.”
Mary blinked in confusion and then explained, “No. You don’t understand. He’s injured.”
“Got a little rowdy, huh?” The waitress teased lightly.
“Rowdy?” Mary echoed with bewilderment and then flushed as understanding struck. The woman thought she was saying he’d been injured during sex or something. Good Lord! “We weren’t—lady, I’m sixty-two years old. The boy is young enough to be my son,” she said indignantly.
“Well, double lucky you then,” the waitress said dryly. “But it’s not nice to brag about a steak meal in front of a gal who’s been on a fast for a decade.”
Mary clucked with exasperation. “I’m not bragging. He’s really hurt. There’s blood all over the place. He needs help, but my cell phone is broken. I—”
“Call an ambulance, Joan.”
Mary turned sharply at that order and peered at the woman now standing beside her with a man at her back. They were a young couple, the woman pretty with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, while the man had short, fair hair and a solemn expression. Mary had noticed them when she’d entered, but hadn’t noticed that they were wearing hospital greens. She did now, and felt relief as the woman smiled at her soothingly.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Jenson and this is my husband, Dr. Jenson. Why don’t you take us to your friend and we’ll see what we can do until the ambulance gets here.”
“Yes,” Mary said with relief and turned to lead them out of the restaurant, but as she pushed through the door, she explained, “He’s not a friend. I don’t know him. I just found him in the bedroom of the RV when I stopped here. I think I may have hit him. He’s bleeding badly.”
“What did you hit him with?” the man asked, his voice a deep baritone as they crossed the parking lot.
“The RV,” Mary answered, noting with relief that Bailey still sat where she’d left her. The dog was good about obeying orders, but the way things had been going—
“I’m not sure I understand,” the man said slowly. “You found him naked in the bedroom of the RV . . . and then what? Threw him out and ran him over?”
“What?” She glanced back with amazement. “No, of course not. I think I hit him with the RV and while I was out looking to see what I’d hit, he must have crawled into the RV. I didn’t find him until I got here.” Pausing at the RV, she opened the door, and hurried inside to lead the way back to the bedroom. She hadn’t really needed to, as everything was compact and a straight shot from front to back. In truth, Mary led the way because she wasn’t at all sure the man would still be there. She could hardly believe he’d been there to begin with and half suspected he’d been some kind of hallucination brought on by the stress of the trip or something.
However, when she reached the open door of the small bedroom and moved up against the bed to peer over it, he was still there on the floor on the other side, broad shoulders wedged between the bed and wall, and butt hanging out into the bathroom, bare as the day he’d been born.
“Oh dear.”
Mary glanced around and realized she was blocking the way. Squeezing into the small cubby space between the bed and wall on this side to get out of the way, Mary glanced from the woman to the man on the floor and back before offering, “Maybe I should open the slide-out.”
“It might cause him injury,” the woman said, climbing onto the bed on her knees and starting across the surface to the other side.
“Lisa’s right,” the man said solemnly, taking Mary’s arm to urge her out of the cramped room. Even with her squeezed to the side, there wasn’t room for him to pass. Really, with the slides in, there wasn’t room to turn around in this section of the RV.
“Why don’t you go watch for the EMTs and let us see what we can do here first,” he suggested gently but firmly as he pulled her back toward the door.
Mary went willingly. In truth, she was happy to go. The sight of the man’s twisted body and all that blood was likely to give her nightmares as it was, and she certainly didn’t expect he’d survive. She didn’t want to bear witness to his death. It was bad enough that she may be the cause of it.
“Send the EMTs in when they get here,” the man instructed quietly as he stopped and leaned past her to open the RV door.
Mary merely nodded and descended the steps to the pavement. She heard the door close behind her and glanced back anxiously, then peered down at Bailey when the dog nosed her hand.
“It’ll be all right,” she murmured and gave the dog a pat, but wasn’t at all sure that was true. If the man in her bedroom was what she’d hit with the RV, and he died as she feared—that was vehicular homicide, wasn’t it? Or did there have to be intent to be homicide? Perhaps it was manslaughter or something. She had no idea, but it was something.
It had been an accident, she reminded herself. She’d never even seen him, but she had been tired and while she hadn’t thought she’d been that tired, she should have seen him, shouldn’t she? The man was buck naked, not wearing dark clothes that would have helped make him harder to see. She should have seen him.