The woman's driver's license said her name was Cheryl Ann Socia. Thirty years old and blue eyed, the picture did not do her justice, of course. From what Daniel Thorgrave could tell, she worked out, took care of herself and did not use or need make-up. The license said she was five foot six, but her fetal position on the ground made height impossible to see.
"Her friends are all dead," the ambulance driver told him as he helped load her in the back. "Their car's wrapped around a tree about a half mile down the road from here. She's tough."
He slammed the door shut and bound around to the driver's side door and took off. Daniel hesitated, then grabbed the keys in his pocket. If her friends were all dead, maybe he could help her. Something in her eyes when they had their brief conversation disturbed him.
As he pulled out of the driveway, he shook his head and decided he had no sense whatsoever. Chasing after a near-dead woman he didn't know because of a gut feeling reminded him of numerous other mistakes he'd made in his life. Hopefully this woman would turn out to be normal.
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