“Alisha?” I asked, my throat instantly tight.
And for two terrifying seconds, there was nothing.
Then her voice came through, strained and thin.
“Theo—”
My heart seized.
“Alisha, what happened?”
Because from the sounds I’d just heard, it felt like she’d collided with something that hadn’t given at all.
“Alisha!” I tried again when she didn’t respond.“Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
Still no answer.
Just Charlotte sobbing in the background and something else—something wet and uneven—moving through the line in place of her breathing.
I grabbed my keys without even remembering standing up and ran for the elevator, my pulse pounding so loudly I could barely hear the phone pressed to my ear.
“Stay with me,” I said into the phone, my voice not sounding like mine.“Stay here. I’m calling 9-1-1. I’m coming.”
My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone as I switched calls.
“My wife was in a car accident,” I told the dispatcher.“She’s on I-95—” I swallowed, staring at the map pinging on my screen.“She’s near mile marker forty-three.” Only a few minutes from me.“Please, just send someone.”
I answered what questions I could and hung up before she finished speaking.
I switched back.
“Alisha? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
But it didn’t sound like her.
It sounded wrong.
Wet. Gurgling.
Like air was moving where it shouldn’t.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Like she already knew something I didn’t.
“No,” I choked.“No, don’t— Stay with me. Please stay here with me.”
I was in my car now. Speeding. Not caring about red lights. The engine roaring louder than it ever had before.
“Alisha, keep talking to me.”
“I love you,” she said again, like it took everything just to get the words out.
Then her breathing changed.
Slower.