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Whatever Lara’s issue was, the panic in Nicole’s voice said we were going to move quickly.
Nicole rounded the table to me. “We’re on the way.”
We weaved through the restaurant and past concerned looks.
“Home,” she said to me as we speed-walked to the door.
“Lara?” Nicole repeated several times before pulling the phone away from her ear.
I pushed open the door to the street. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this is happening again. She’s hysterical and talking about blood.”
I hit unlock on my big SUV and raced to the driver’s side. I had the engine started by the time Nicole climbed in and closed her door.
Hitting the emergency button on my phone, I pulled away from the curb and punched the gas, hard.
Nicole had the phone to her ear again. “She’s not answering.”
I tossed my phone in the cup holder. “Keep trying.”
The 9-1-1 operator came over my car’s speakers. “What’s the nature of your emergency?”
“There’s been an accident at 4312 Orangebranch in west LA. Roll an ambulance.”
“I’m sending help now,” the lady said. “What’s the medical emergency?”
“We’re on the way now,” I answered. “We got an emergency call from the resident. She’s not answering her phone anymore.”
“Can you tell me more?” the emergency operator asked.
Nicole spoke up. “We got a call from my cousin. She talked about a lot of blood.”
“Is she safe?”
I sped around another car.
“I lost the call,” Nicole said. “And she’s not picking up.”
“I’m sending police as well,” the lady said before re-verifying the address and asking for our names and Lara’s.
I ended the call with 9-1-1. The light ahead went yellow, and I accelerated into it. “What exactly did she say?”
Nicole braced herself. “She just kept saying there was blood.”
I raced through the intersection and changed lanes. “What else did she say?”
“She said it’s happening again.”
“What does that mean?”
* * *
Nicole
“There’s so much blood,”Lara had said on the phone.
I punched her contact for what was probably the tenth time, and still she didn’t answer.
