to show you where the car was—it’s not easy to see.’
He was right. The thick smoke was obscuring everything, limiting visibility to less than a hundred metres and, coming from the direction they travelled, they could easily have missed the wrecked car.
‘Do you have any idea who’s in the car?’
‘No. Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Can we get going now, do you think?’
Phoebe could hear a slight tremor in the old man’s voice. He’d done the right thing, what his conscience had demanded of him, and now understandably he was getting nervous about the approaching fire. Phoebe was nervous, too.
‘Of course. Thanks for your help.’
He hurried to his car, still clutching the towel to his face.
Phoebe looked around her. Cars continued to travel past but for once they didn’t have to work with a crowd of onlookers, the imminent danger from the bushfire was taking care of curious spectators. The fire crew and Steve were already at the vehicle, assessing the situation. Phoebe hurried down the slope, slipping a little on the dry undergrowth with its layer of fallen gum leaves.
The car was a total wreck. The driver’s side was wrapped around the tree, the bonnet virtually non-existent now as it was so badly compacted. The windscreen was shattered but access through there was limited as the tree blocked the opening. From what Phoebe could see, it appeared as though the steering-column might have crushed the driver’s chest, pinioning him to the wreck. She very much doubted he’d survived the accident.
She saw Max hand the spreaders to Mitch before coming to her side. Both of them silent, watching, waiting for the firies to get access to the vehicle.
Max spoke first, verbalising her thoughts. ‘I don’t reckon there’ll be much you can do for him even if he is alive.’
There were no signs of movement from within the car and no response to any of their calls. The doors were too badly damaged to be opened so Mitch smashed the back passenger window directly behind the driver, but even that caused no reaction.
As soon as the window was shattered Steve reached through the gap. Phoebe saw him put his hand on the driver’s shoulder, heard him ask a question, seeking a response. Nothing.
Steve moved his hand over the driver’s neck and Phoebe knew he was checking for a pulse. He cocked his head to one side in concentration.
‘I’ve got a pulse. Weak and irregular but he’s still alive. We need access now!’
Max picked up the crowbar Mitch had dropped at his feet and hurried around to the passenger side of the car to smash the unbroken windows while Mitch started cutting through the pillars supporting the roof. It would take Mitch a few minutes to get them access. Minutes this young man might not have.
Phoebe could hear Steve talking to the youth even though there was no response. She felt extraneous and looked for something useful to do. She skirted the tree, the tree that had done all the damage, wondering if there was any way she could get into the car. Was there enough room for her to squeeze through the broken windscreen into the front seat?
No way would she fit. To get through that hole she needed to be about five feet four and weigh eight stone. Not five feet ten and buxom.
Max had smashed the windows on the near side and Phoebe looked at the shattered glass scattered over the seats and littering the floor. A handbag lay on the floor, covered in broken glass, its bright colours incongruous in the wreckage. Phoebe’s gaze travelled over the handbag across to Steve. He’d stepped back from the driver, giving Mitch room to cut through the metalwork.
Phoebe’s subconscious drew her attention back to the handbag, suddenly working out what was so strange. She stepped back from the car, searching the ground around the crash site.
‘What is it?’ she heard Max’s question.
‘There must have been someone else in the car. A girl.’
‘What?’
‘There’s a handbag on the floor. Why would he have a handbag? We’ve got to find her.’
She moved to the front of the car. A flash of bright blue in the undergrowth to her left caught her eye. She wondered how she’d missed it as she’d first skirted the tree.
It was a sandal.
And the sandal was on a foot.
Phoebe’s eyes travelled up from the foot, following the line of a jeans-clad leg.
‘Over here.’
Max was beside her.
The top half of the body was partially hidden by a straggly shrub and Phoebe stepped forward. It was a girl. She was lying on her stomach but her face was turned towards them, her head at an unnatural angle, her sightless eyes staring into the sky.
‘Her neck’s broken.’
Phoebe squatted down beside her, force of habit making her check for a pulse even though she knew it was futile. She took her fingers from the girl’s neck, reaching up to close her eyelids.
Max looked back to the tree and the destroyed car. ‘She must have been flung out on impact.’ He stretched out his hand, offering to help Phoebe up. ‘Come on, there’s nothing you can do for her now.’
Phoebe took his hand. The contact was comforting, his warmth reassuring after touching the lifeless body of the young girl at their feet. In the background Phoebe was aware of the noise of the jaws of life crunching through metal as Mitch cut open the car.
‘Are you OK?’
She nodded, an automatic response, but actually she was far from okay. Unnecessary deaths always gave her a mix of emotions. She couldn’t remember the last time any of her colleagues had asked if she, or anyone else, was affected by what they dealt with at work. Death was an inevitable part of their job but it didn’t mean they were unaffected by it. It never got any easier but no one really talked about it. She didn’t need—didn’t want—to talk or think about it either. She knew from experience she just needed to keep moving. To stay busy.
Despite the heat of the day she felt a chill as she moved away from Max’s side. Keep moving, stay busy. Max was right. There was nothing she could do for this girl but hopefully they’d be able to save the driver.
The firemen had peeled back the roof of the car along the driver’s side and were just removing the front door. Steve was still talking. ‘Just about there, mate. Hang on.’
The moment the door was gone Steve was back in place, his hand under the driver’s chin, supporting his head, feeling for the carotid pulse. The youth’s face was surprisingly undamaged. He had a cut above his eye but that had stopped bleeding and Phoebe knew why even before Steve spoke.
‘We’ve lost him.’
Now the car had been opened up they could see the massive abdominal injuries the lad had suffered. Looking at those, Phoebe was surprised he’d still been alive when they arrived.
Steve let the driver’s head go and stood, turning to speak to the policemen
