kicked her in the head with the other foot. She tumbled backwards with a yip.
Sirens shrilled in the distance, closing fast. Tasha snarled, barking as the SUV scattered gravel. It took off down the road, gaining speed as the dog chased it.
"Tasha, come back!" June called.
Tasha came back, wagging her stubby tail until her butt wiggled. Rags danced around her, yapping.
"Good girl!" June fussed over Tasha. Under her, the biker stirred.
"Help me. I can't breathe," the biker gasped, fumbling at the strap.
"The ambulance is on its way." June helped him undo the catch strap. She very gently eased the helmet off, revealing his face. He was a young man with a beard hiding his features. He gasped for breath and curled on his side, coughing. If he could move that much, his spine wasn't broken. June bit her lip. What if he had a broken rib?
"Lay still," she warned him. "I shouldn't have moved you."
"S-okay." He looked up at her, his teeth flashed in the dimness. "That's one hell of a dog you got there."
"She's my girl," June smiled, patting Tasha. She heard sirens. "Looks like the law is here." She saw the sheriff's car and the ambulance coming in and waved them down.
Seconds later, the EMT's leaped from the ambulance, carrying kits, running to where the biker was laying in the ditch.
"He was run off the road by an SUV." June stepped back, holding Tasha by the collar.
"Were you the passenger?" the EMT asked June.
"No, I live here." June pointed to where she had seen the woman. "She's over there."
"There's no one here." His flashlight flickered in an outward arc as he searched around the motorcycle.
"S-s-she was right th-there." A sudden chill made her stutter. June followed the beam of light with her eyes, but the woman was gone.
"Are you sure you saw someone?"
June hesitated; a numbing cold settled on her feet and started its way up her legs. It was so intense her teeth chattered.
"Could she have gotten up?"
The woman had been dead – June could have sworn to it. Except the grass showed no blood, no body, no sign there had been one. She swallowed, feeling faint and horribly cold.
What had she seen?
"Ma`am, are you all right?"
"I must have been mistaken about the woman."
"Were you on the motorcycle?" He shined his light on her.
"I'm the one who reported the accident. I was in the house when it happened."
He shined his light into June's face, blinding her. She shielded her eyes, thinking fast. It was time to say something intelligent and reassuring, before he decided she was a nutcase. It was time to stop talking about the woman.
"Have you been drinking?"
"I don't drink."
Rags growled. June scooped up the little dog before he started trouble.
"No, Rags," June scolded her dog.
"I smell alcohol," the EMT said.
"The guys in the truck were drinking."
The EMT shone the light back on the ground. He found a beer can in a cozy. June got a good look at the design on the red and white plastic. It came from one of their plastics suppliers. Everyone in the office had one. Had someone from her plant been in the SUV? The men sounded familiar, talking with a thick country drawl. Half the men who worked at the plant talked the same way.
"Hey, Earl," he said. "Over here."
The Sheriff walked over to take a look.
"It's still cold," the EMT looked at the Sheriff. "Bag it?"
"Can't hurt," the Sheriff shrugged. "Might be able to charge them with littering." The two men laughed.
June felt like protesting, but this wasn't a murder. The Sheriff wasn't going to go all CSI for a minor accident. She was willing to bet they wouldn't even check for fingerprints. The beer can cozy proved the guys in the SUV were drinking.
Rags picked up on her frustration and growled. June went to find the biker, keeping a tight hold on Rags.
"Hi, I live in the house, I called 911," she introduced herself to the EMT. "Which hospital are you taking him to?"
"Ashtabula General is closest." The tall EMT nodded to her. "Did you see what