Not fear of them.
Fear of her daughter.
“Claire died six years ago.”
Adeline smiled gently.
“I know.”
Kendra grabbed her daughter’s shoulders.
“How do you know?”
The little girl looked up.
The answer was simple.
“She told me.”
The paramedic broke the silence.
“We need to move him.”
Professional urgency returned instantly.
The injured biker was stabilized onto a backboard.
Adeline finally had to release his hand.
He stirred.
His eyes opened.
He saw the bikers.
Then the little girl.
His mouth moved.
“Princess.”
Adeline smiled.
“I’m here.”
The injured man tried lifting his head.
The paramedic stopped him.
“Don’t move.”
The biker ignored him long enough to whisper:
“Blue…”
His voice failed.
The leader leaned closer.
“What?”
The injured man’s eyes filled with tears.
“Scarf.”
Every biker nearby froze.
Kendra felt sick.
“How does he know about that?”
The leader looked at her.
“He was married to Claire.”
The world seemed to tilt.
The injured rider closed his eyes as paramedics carried him uphill.
Adeline watched until they disappeared beyond the guardrail.
Then she looked toward the tall biker leader.
“She says you have to go too.”
“What?”
“To the hospital.”
He nodded automatically.
“Of course.”
“No.”
Adeline stepped closer.
“She says you always wait outside when you’re scared.”
The man’s face collapsed.
Not dramatically.
Something inside simply broke.
He looked away.
One rider put a hand on his shoulder.
The deputy stared.
“Sir, is that significant?”
The leader laughed once, but there was no humor.
“My sister used to say that.”
Kendra's voice became sharp.
“Your sister?”
He looked at her.
“Claire was my younger sister.”
“And his wife?”
He nodded toward the ambulance disappearing up the road.
“Yes.”
Kendra looked down at Adeline.
Her daughter was adjusting her tiara.
Like nothing impossible had happened.
Kendra suddenly wanted distance.
From the bikers.
From the slope.
From the strange questions.
From the name Claire.
She lifted Adeline into her arms.
The child protested.
“Mommy.”
“We’re leaving.”
“But he needs us.”
“The ambulance has him.”
“Not him.”
Adeline looked toward the leader.
“Him.”
The tall biker closed his eyes.
Kendra turned away.
“I’m sorry. We have to go.”
The deputy followed them uphill.
At the SUV he asked Kendra for her name and number.
Standard witness information.
She gave both.
Then he lowered his voice.
“You really never met those men?”
“No.”
“Your daughter?”
“No.”
“She ever see them online?”
Kendra stared.
“She's six.”
“Kids use phones.”
“She watches cartoons and horse videos.”
The deputy glanced toward the riders.
“I’m trying to understand.”
“So am I.”
Adeline sat inside the SUV.
Hands folded on her pink skirt.
The deputy looked through the open door.
“Hey, princess.”
Adeline looked at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”