7
Julian, that champion swimmer, hauled me out of the water. At least, that’s what the paramedic told me in the ambulance, when I awoke, shivering, with excruciating pain running down my left leg. I was on my stomach, and the medic was tending to my thigh. An IV drip snaked into my right arm.
“How did you know Julian was a swimmer—” I began, before the ambo swayed precipitously. I leaned off the narrow stretcher and was sick.
“Don’t talk,” the medic commanded. His gloved hand offered a wipe for my mouth. Actually, the guy looked familiar. Did I know him? I couldn’t remember.
“There was a note,” I said, defying his command. “On the end of the deck. That’s why I walked out—”
“Stop talking.” He finished taping my leg.
“You have to call the sheriff’s department,” I ordered him. He was ri
