Page 191 of Rising Heat

Her mouth moves before the word comes.

“Beth.”

“Okay, Beth. We’re going to get you out. Can you let go of the wheel for me?”

Her fingers release one at a time.

“Good. That’s it.”

I get a glove off and cover her hand with mine. A paramedic from the second unit moves in behind me without a word, close enough to monitor, one hand resting near Beth’s headrest. The hydraulic spreaders fire up, and the car shudders with the first bite of the jaws. Beth flinches.

“That’s just the tools. Keep your eyes on me.”

She does.

I keep talking—what we’re doing, what’s coming next. Anything that keeps her looking at me instead of the metal around her. Her breathing is fast and shallow and she keeps fighting the seatbelt with her free hand, fingers slipping every time she gets a grip.

“Leave the belt. We’ll get it. Just leave it.”

She stops pulling.

The spreaders work into the seam and the frame begins to give, metal popping and ticking as the gap opens. Marco calls for another adjustment, Trick already moving like he has a hundred times before. Mack reads the frame out loud in the low, even voice he uses when he’s already three steps ahead. My eyes stay on Beth as they all move around me.

Then the whole driver’s side shudders.

Wrong.

“Mack—”

Mack’s already calling for Marco to back the spreaders off before I finish saying his name. Marco repositions and Trick moves to the hinge and the spreaders whine back to life.

I look at Beth.

“Almost there. You’re doing great.”

She nods and keeps her eyes on mine. Then she doesn’t.

“Beth.”

Her eyes close. The medic shifts forward and I feel his hands come in from behind my shoulder, bracing either side of her head.

“Beth…”

Nothing. Behind me Mack holds the frame while the jaws work another inch into the seam. I track Beth’s breathing and wait for the belt.

The belt clicks free.

“Got her.”

He forces the frame that last inch and holds it while I get both arms through and work Beth free—dead weight, but breathing. I’ll take it.

The EMTs are already beside me with the stretcher and I give her over but keep my hand on her arm the whole way across the pavement, her name lingering in the air until the ambulance doors close.

I turn around.

Marco’s already hosing off the spreaders before loading them back into the compartment while Trick starts the first notes for the report and Coop works with Boston PD reopening a lane, waving the first line of cars through one slow driver at a time.

Across the lane, the sheet is still on the sedan’s windshield.