Seeking The Truth. Terri Reed

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ crowd as he called into Dispatch asking for backup and for the incoming train to be notified there was a civilian on the tracks. He prayed the message would be relayed to the conductor in time to stop the train short.

      Pedestrians yelled and urged Rachelle to get up. She appeared dazed as she pushed to her knees. Smears of grease and dirt marred her skirt and blouse. Shoving back her loose hair, she lifted her frightened gaze as if looking for help.

      Frosty’s frantic barking echoed off the tile and cement. Agitated, the dog paced the edge of the platform. Carter held tight to his lead, afraid the dog would jump onto the tracks to help save Rachelle.

      The train wasn’t far down the track. He could hear the strident squeal of the rails echoing down the tunnel. There wasn’t time for her to climb back onto the platform.

      He didn’t think there was even time for her to run to the other end of the platform where there was a four-step ladder.

      Only one option provided a hope of survival.

      He knelt down and cupped his mouth to shout, “Lie down between the rails.”

      For a heartbeat, she blinked up at him as if trying to discern his words.

      A gust of wind tore down the tunnel, whipping her hair in front of her face and plastering her skirt to her legs. The approaching train would arrive any second. “Hurry! Lie down. Cover your head!”

      In a flurry of movement, Rachelle scrambled to do as directed. She lay prone between the inside tracks, her face tucked into the crook of her elbow.

      Even if the train didn’t hit her, there was no guarantee the equipment hanging down from the undercarriage wouldn’t cause injury.

      Nausea roiled through his gut as he pushed to his feet and lifted a prayer for this woman’s safety. “Please, God.”

      * * *

      Rachelle squeezed her eyes tight. Her heart hammered in her chest. She covered her head with her purse, thankful it hadn’t flown off her body in the fall, and fought to lie as still and flat as possible.

      If she survived this...

      No! She would survive this—she’d be headline news. And could write about the fast-thinking officer who helped her stay alive.

      The loud squeal of the rails shuddered through her. Her body tensed.

      “Please, Lord. Please, Lord.” She repeated the refrain over and over.

      * * *

      The sight of the incoming train filled Carter with terror. He waved his arms over his head, hoping to grab the train engineer’s attention. Others joined in.

      The sound of people crying mixed with the screech of the brakes as the train decelerated and came to a jerking halt within inches of Rachelle’s feet.

      A cheer broke out.

      Sweat soaked Carter’s back beneath his uniform and flak vest. “Thank you, Jesus.”

      To Frosty, he commanded, “Stay.”

      He dropped the dog’s lead and then jumped down onto the tracks, careful to avoid the third rail, which supplied live electrical power for the subway to run efficiently. It was exposed and extremely dangerous. He hurried to gather Rachelle into his arms and lifted her off the ground. Her arms encircled his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder. Her body trembled. Shock, no doubt.

      “You’re okay,” he assured her.

      He carried her to the end of the platform. Several people rushed to help her up the stairs.

      “My notebook and pen!”

      Carter rolled his eyes at her priorities but quickly grabbed her items before climbing up the ladder behind her.

      Rachelle’s pretty brown eyes were wide, the pupils dilated. She wobbled on her pumps and gripped his arm. “Thank you. That was really close.”

      Tell me about it. “You’re going to be okay.”

      He slid an arm around her waist and led her to the bench against the wall. He squatted down beside her, setting her notebook and pen on the bench.

      Frosty put his chin on her knee. She stroked the dog behind the ears with one hand and placed her other hand protectively over her notebook.

      “What happened?” Carter asked.

      Her lips trembled. “Someone pushed me.”

      Shock reverberated through him. The platform was now a crime scene. He radioed in this new development.

      “That’s right. I saw the whole thing.” An older gentleman stepped forward. “Guy wore a gray T-shirt, baseball hat and sunglasses. He had brown hair, medium height.”

      Carter rose and searched the pressing crowd. “Can you point him out?”

      “As soon as he pushed her, the guy ran up the stairs,” the older man told him. “I heard him say, ‘You’re getting too close.’”

      “I heard him say that, too.” A young woman wearing a walkathon T-shirt stepped forward. “I saw him put his hand on her back and push.”

      Carter’s gaze snapped back to Rachelle. “Why would someone want to hurt you?”

      She tucked in her chin. “You think I was targeted?” Something flashed in her eyes, some thought that made her frown, but then she shook her head. “No. It was crowded. He probably got claustrophobic. It had to have been a random act.”

      Carter wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t have time to question her further as other police officers and paramedics flooded the platform. He greeted the officers, explained the situation and let them interview the witnesses. Carter would write up his statement when he returned to his home station in Queens.

      The medical personnel fussed over Rachelle. She waved them away. “I’m fine. Nothing is broken. Nothing’s twisted. I’ll have some bruises, but you can’t help with that.”

      Carter touched her shoulder. He’d already noted the scrapes on her hands and the smudges on her knees. She’d dropped four feet onto hard concrete. “Let them do their jobs.”

      She huffed out a sigh and tucked her notebook and pen into her purse. “I’ve taken worse falls. My parents have a grand oak that rises a hundred feet in the air. I’ve fallen out of it more times than I can count. This was barely a tumble.”

      Her words were saying one thing, but her body was shaking beneath his hand. “Humor me.”

      Her lips pressed together, and she nodded. The EMTs checked her vitals, assessed her limbs for injury. They declared her okay but told her to rest and put ice on her knees.

      When the paramedics retreated, she rose from the bench, straightened her dirt-smudged skirt and squared her shoulders. Looking him in the eye, she said, “What I would like to do is interview those witnesses, then get on with our interview.”

      She СКАЧАТЬ