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The final question in May’s mind was this: Was 'he' Maurice? Or someone else?
Quickly, she helped Owen spread the blanket over the unconscious woman, praying that she would soon regain consciousness, because the information she had might be vital.
"I don't know if she could have been all the way out there in the RV community," May said thoughtfully.
"Why?" Owen challenged her.
"It's a very long way. What, ten miles or more? For Chloe to have run that entire distance barefoot would have taken ages."
"But look how torn up her feet are," Owen argued. "It's obvious that she did run for ages. And if Maurice was still on his way there, to wherever they were hidden, he might not have known she'd escaped."
"I think she might have been kept somewhere closer," May said.
"I don't want to rule out Maurice. He knows more than he's telling, I'm sure of it," Owen insisted.
May shrugged. She didn't see any point in arguing this further. One of them would end up being right, and one would end up being wrong. But for now, without Chloe being able to tell them who her captor was, they were stuck in a frustrating limbo.
Already she could hear the blare of the approaching ambulance as it peeled off the main road and headed down to the police department. A moment later, the lights came into sight.
"I'll let Sheriff Jack know," Owen said, picking up his phone as May hurried to the road to meet the ambulance. The paramedics got out and, stretcher clattering, rushed up.
May followed, feeling taut with anxiety.
"Let's have a look," the tall paramedic leading the way said, bending over Chloe, reaching for his bag to take out the equipment he needed. His face was concerned and caring. Maystepped back to give him some room to work, and as she did, she cast an anxious eye around the area. She couldn't see anyone waiting or watching. But there might be someone there. The killer might be looking for an opportunity to silence his victim once and for all.
"She's going to be vulnerable in hospital," she whispered to Owen as soon as he'd cut the call. "We need to get her a police guard."
"Yes, that's exactly what Jack said," Owen agreed. "He said we must ask one of the officers on night duty to go to the hospital and station himself outside her ward. There must be someone there at all times, and the hospital must tighten up on their security and take every precaution."
May turned to the paramedic. She didn't want to seem impatient, but she felt desperate to know if Chloe was going to be okay, and also, how long she'd take before she woke up.
In a case where every moment now counted, they needed their questions answered—and soon.
"She's very dehydrated. And those wounds on her feet are deep," the paramedic said. "She may have a couple of broken bones there. There's some swelling, for sure."
"What's the time frame?" May asked.
"We're going to take her straight in, and I think she'll need to get those wounds treated immediately. Infection is already setting in and with feet, you can't mess around. That'll need to be done under sedation, for sure, if she's healthy enough for it as yet."
"Thanks," May said. "We're sending an officer along to stand guard, to make sure whoever took her doesn't come back and try to grab her."
"Good idea. I hope we can keep her safe," the paramedic said, his face grim. "But for now, all I can say is questioning her isnot likely to happen tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow. Her recovery and her own health have to come first."
"Absolutely," May agreed.
His analysis was disappointing, but at least she now knew that Chloe's condition was not critical. At some stage, she would be recovered enough to speak to them. But it meant that for tonight, they were on their own.
They wheeled Chloe to the ambulance and loaded her in. May watched as one of the officers from Fairshore rushed to his car and set off, following the ambulance.
"This is not an ideal situation," she said to Owen. "We've got one suspect who can't talk because he's still out of his mind on whatever he's been taking. And we've got one witness who can't talk because treating her injuries and keeping her alive has to come first."
"We could see if we can trace back where she ran from?" Owen asked. "Do you think we'd get any signs now?"
May wrinkled her nose dubiously. She wasn't sure that was going to be possible in the dark. Chloe's feet had been damaged and lacerated, but she didn't think that those cuts would leave a visible blood trail across blacktop, forest floor, grass, and who knew what else.
"A tracker dog could trace it, for sure," she said. Perhaps that was their best answer—if a dog was available now. Sadly, May knew, that in their outlying areas, it often took days to book a dog. But who knew, perhaps they would get lucky this time. Surely, they needed a lucky break?
"I'll make a call and see if we can get one tomorrow," she said, heading back into the warmth of the police department, glad to be out of the cool, tugging breeze that was intensifying.
