A Will and a Way

pushed open the door. “Get help,” he managed, fighting against blacking out again. He took deep gulps of air to clear his head as the boy dashed off through the woods. “Pandora.” Fear broke through the fog. In seconds, he was leaning over her.
    His fingers shook as he reached for the pulse of her neck, but he found it. Blood from a cut on her forehead ran down her face and onto his hands. With his fingers pressed against the wound, he fumbled in the glove compartment for the first-aid kit. He’d stopped the bleeding and was checking her for broken bones when she moaned. He had to stop himself from dragging her against him and holding on.
    “Take it easy,” he murmured when she began to stir. “Don’t move around.” When she opened her eyes, he saw they wereglazed and unfocused. “You’re all right.” Gently he cupped her face in his hands and continued to reassure her. Her eyes focused gradually. As they did, she reached for his hand.
    “The brakes….”
    “Yeah.” He rested his cheek against hers a moment. “It was a hell of a trip, but it looks like we made it.”
    Confused, she looked around. The car was stopped, leaning drunkenly against a tree. It had been the deep, slushy snow that had slowed them down enough to prevent the crash from being fatal. “We—you’re all right?” The tears started when she reached out and took his face in her hands as he had with hers. “You’re all right.”
    “Terrific.” His wrist throbbed like a jackhammer and his head ached unbelievably, but he was alive. When she started to move, he held her still. “No, don’t move around. I don’t know how badly you’re hurt. There was a kid. He’s gone for help.”
    “It’s just my head.” She started to take his hand, and saw the blood. “Oh God, you’re bleeding. Where?” Before she could begin her frantic search, he gripped her hands together.
    “It’s not me. It’s you. Your head’s cut. You probably have a concussion.”
    Shaky, she lifted her hand and touched the bandage. The wound beneath it hurt, but she drew on that. If she hurt, she was alive. “I thought I was dead.” She closed her eyes but tears slipped through the lashes. “I thought we were both dead.”
    “We’re both fine.” They heard the siren wail up the mountain road. He was silent until she opened her eyes again. “You know what happened?”
    Her head ached badly, but it was clear. “Attempted murder.”
    He nodded, not turning when the ambulance pulled into the slushy lane. “I’m through waiting, Pandora. I’m through waiting all around.”
     
    Lieutenant Randall found Michael in the emergency-room lounge. He unwrapped his muffler, unbuttoned his coat and sat down on the hard wooden bench. “Looks like you’ve had some trouble.”
    “Big time.”
    Randall nodded toward the Ace bandage on Michael’s wrist. “Bad?”
    “Just a sprain. Few cuts and bruises and a hell of a headache. Last time I saw it, my car looked something like an accordion.”
    “We’re taking it in. Anything we should look for?”
    “Brake lines. It seemed I didn’t have any when I started the trip down the mountain.”
    “When’s the last time you used your car?” Randall had his notepad in hand.
    “Ten days, two weeks.” Wearily, Michael rubbed a temple. “I drove into New York to talk to police about the robbery in my apartment.”
    “Where do you keep your car?”
    “In the garage.”
    “Locked?”
    “The garage?” Michael kept his eye on the hallway where Pandora had been wheeled away. “No. My uncle had installed one of those remote control devices a few years back. Neverworked unless you turned on the television. Anyway, he took it out again and never replaced the lock. Pandora’s car’s in there,” he remembered suddenly. “If—”
    “We’ll check it out,” Randall said easily. “Miss McVie was with you?”
    “Yeah, she’s with a doctor.” For the first time in weeks, Michael found himself craving a cigarette. “Her head was cut.” He looked down at his hands and remembered her blood on them. “I’m going to find out who did this, Lieutenant, and then I’m going to—”
    “Don’t say anything to me I might have to use later,” Randall warned. There were some people who threatened as a means to let off steam or relieve tension. Randall didn’t think Michael Donahue was one of them. “Let me do my job, Mr. Donahue.”
    Michael gave him a long, steady look. “Someone’s been playing games,