Page 25 of Daddy Detectives: Episode 1
I examine the side of his head looking for blood or a lump. “Did you hit your head?”
“No.” He grasps my hand. “Honestly, I’m okay. Just shaken.”
I glance over at the wrecked car. Steam is billowing from the crumpled hood, and the engine is still running. That’s a problem because there’s a risk of fire, or worse yet, an explosion. Bystanders crowd around the wreckage, many of them on their phones taking video. I hope someone is calling 911. Others are assisting pedestrians who had fallen or been trampled in the melee.
“Go,” Ian says, pointing toward the car. “Check on the driver.”
I’m torn. The former cop in me wants to jump into first responder mode, see to the wounded and the driver, but Ian needs me, too.
Ian squeezes my hand. “I’m all right, babe.” He slides down the wall to sit on the pavement. “I’ll sit right here and catch my breath.”
I crouch down in front of him, cup his face, and give him a quick kiss. “I won’t go far.”
With Ian safely out of danger, I approach the driver’s side of the car, reach through the open window, and turn off the engine. The driver, a teenage boy, is unconscious and slumped in his seat. Lucky for him, he was wearing a seatbelt. I press my fingers to his carotid to verify that he’s alive. His pulse is strong and steady, so I don’t think he’s in imminent danger.
The airbag deployed, of course, but it’s deflated now. I do a quick visual inspection of the driver and notice that, other than having an apparent broken left arm, he looks to be relatively unharmed. I notice his phone is clutched tightly in his right hand. I suspect this is likely a case of distracted driving which, unfortunately, is not uncommon.
“Has anyone called 911?” I ask the people who have gathered around the car.
“I did,” a young woman says as she points to her phone, which is still pressed to her ear. She gives the dispatcher the address of the crash scene.
“I did, too,” says a man standing on the passenger side of the car. “They’re on their way.”
Almost immediately, we hear the jarring peal of multiple sirens. And minutes later, several police cruisers arrive, along with several paramedics. As the officers exit their vehicles, I recognize several of them. They acknowledge me with nods as they approach the crash site.
“Hey, Tyler, you okay?” one of the officers asks as he pats my back. “Don’t go far. We’ll want to get a statement from you.”
I nod. “Sure.” I point to Ian. “I’ll be right over there.” When I return to Ian, I crouch down beside him again. He looks flushed,but otherwise all right. His eyes are clear and focused. “How are you feeling?”
Ian reaches for my hand. “A bit shaky. Can we go home? I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Of course. I need to give a statement to the police, and then I’ll take you home.”
After I talk to the officers once more, giving them a detailed rundown of what I saw, Ian and I walk back to our car. As the sidewalk clears, I pull him close. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”
“I didn’t.” He’s quiet for a while, and then he says, “My God, Tyler, we could have been hit. It happened so fast. If you hadn’t pulled me out of the way—” He stops and turns to face me, tears pooling in his eyes. “Tyler, we could have died.” His voice breaks. “Our kids could have lost one or both of their fathers tonight.”
I pull Ian closer and wrap my arms securely around him. “I will never let anything happen to you.”
When he buries his face in the crook of my neck, I murmur against his temple. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
* * *
When we arrive back at the townhouse, Ingrid meets us at the back door. “Hey, guys, why are you back so soon?” She takes one look at Ian and practically shrieks. “Oh, my God, honey! What happened?”
I hold the door for Ian as he steps inside. “Where are the babies?” he asks.
Mom points toward the hallway. “They’re in the living room. They ate about half an hour ago, and now they’re sleeping.”
Ian races out of the kitchen and down the front hall to the living room.
“Tyler, what’s wrong?” Mom asks me as we both follow him. “Is Ian okay?”
“I think so. We had a close call this evening.” I proceed to tell her what happened.
“Oh, my God! Was he hurt? Areyouhurt?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. I checked Ian for injuries, but other than being a bit bruised and sore, he seems okay. The important thing is, he didn’t hit his head on the building. That’s what I was most worried about—a head injury.”
