Charleston with a Clever Cougar: A Dance with Danger Mystery #6 Read Online Free

the
knob to be sure the back door of the shop was locked up tight, I
tossed Daisy the keys and we crossed the parking lot. The air was
crisp on this soon-to-be-spring day, and when the wind came in from
the Sound, it seemed to go right through me. I longed for spring,
for the first warm days to roll in on a southern breeze. I couldn’t
wait to get home, change into my sweats, and curl up on my sofa
with a bowl of hot beef barley soup, some crackers, and a good
book. It had been a long day and I was bushed. In a way, I rather
enjoyed being chauffeured home, stretching my legs in the passenger
seat. Daisy made a valiant effort to do it all right -- checking
the rearview mirror, adjusting the seat to accommodate her much
shorter legs, and then finally finagling with the side mirrors. I
let her find her own comfort zone. When she was ready, she put the
key in the ignition, turned it, and engaged the stick shift,
backing out at about three miles an hour. It was all I could do not
to smile.
    With the left blinker clicking, she waited
for all the cars to pass before she moved forward in a slow roll.
Her little body hovered above the steering wheel, the child in her
still in awe of her new skills. I had to turn away briefly, so she
wouldn’t see me chuckle.
    We traveled down the Boston Post Road,
heading west, in light traffic. When Daisy got to Sandy Point Road,
she turned on the indicator and waited for a line of cars to pass
by. With care, she began to turn, and that’s when it happened. From
out of nowhere, a car rear-ended us, slamming us so hard that I bit
my lip. Luckily, no one was coming the other way, because Daisy’s
terrified foot lifted off the brake on impact, and we crossed into
the oncoming lane.
    “Stop!” I screamed, “use the brakes!” The
command didn’t register with the teenager for those few critical
seconds. I braced myself against the dashboard just as we went
flying into a very solid mailbox post.
    “Ouch!” Daisy was rubbing her cheek where the
airbag struck. The van was still in drive.
    “Put...the van in...park,” I managed to
say.
    “Cady, you’re hurt!” The young driver started
to cry.
    “Now,” I insisted. “Park.”
    She followed my instruction with shaking
hands as I sat back, still feeling the full wallop of my own
airbag, not to mention the pain that resulted from the jolt my
outstretched arms took when they were sent packing from the
dashboard with a very rude thrust. I knew I was going to be in a
world of hurt before long, so I tried to concentrate with the
little energy I had in reserve.
    “Are you okay?” I asked her.
    “I’m so, so, so sorry!” Tears tumbled down
those cheeks. “Please don’t die!”
     

Chapter Three --
     
    “I’m not dying,” I assured Daisy, even though
I felt like I had gotten drop-kicked in an attempt to get me
through the goalposts of heaven.
    My passenger door opened with a sudden whoosh , and a face popped in. I saw a pair of green eyes
behind nerd glasses.
    “Everybody okay in here?” said the gnome in
the tattered raincoat.
    “Cady’s hurt bad!”
    “No, I’m not,” I disagreed with more
forcefulness than necessary. “I’m just banged up.”
    “I trained as a medic,” said that serious
face. “Two tours of Afghanistan, one tour of Iraq. I’ve seen it
all. Now, what hurts?”
    “My shoulder.”
    “Can you wiggle your fingers very gently?” He
was now kind, reassuring, asking me to check this body part or
that. There wasn’t any of the acidity in his voice that I heard at
the shop earlier. It was as if he were a different person, totally
focused on helping. I could see people all around the car. A buzz
seemed to fill the air as people compared notes on what they had
seen.
    “He hit them and then took off!” said a
man.
    “What a terrible thing to do!” a woman
responded.
    “I think it was deliberate. He had to know
there were injuries!” How could he not know, I wondered.
    “Did anyone get the license plate?”