Dead Last by Amanda Lamb

Author:Amanda Lamb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime;murder;marathon;mystery;murder mystery;domestic violence;north carolina;journalist
Publisher: Light Messages Publishing
Published: 2020-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

10

Revelations

“Seriously, it’s crazy this woman survived,” Janie rambled on, as I half-listened on the other end of the line.

I had her on speakerphone while I sat in the carpool line waiting to pick up the kids because my sitter, Candace, had come down with the flu. I told her to stay home and get well, that we would manage without her. It wasn’t true. I didn’t have a contingency plan for when Candace got sick. I had no family around, and while I did have a few other school moms I could call on, I hated to do that. I didn’t want to be the helpless widow who was always looking for people to bail me out. So I left work early and told Janie to call me in the car and we would talk about story ideas.

“I still don’t understand how a zebra reaches out of an enclosure at a zoo and attacks a woman,” I said. “Are zebras really that aggressive? Who knew?”

“Apparently they can be super dangerous. It was like a weird spot in the habitat where the zebra was just close enough to the woman to grab her. She was eating an ice cream cone, not sure if that had anything to do with it.” Janie typed as we talked. I could hear the rat-a-tat of her fingers tapping the keys, as well as the muffled static of the police scanner punctuated by sirens in the background. I didn’t know much about zebras, but I was pretty sure the ice cream had something to do with it.

The attack had happened at a zoo in another state, but the woman was from North Carolina and her family wanted her close to home. So as soon as doctors said it was safe to move her, they flew her to University Hospital in the next town over. The family called us and said she was recovering well and was available to talk. Janie has also lined up a zoologist from one of the local colleges to talk about zebra attacks. The variety of my new reporting beat continued to amaze me. It didn’t have the same level of intrigue as crime reporting, but it certainly satisfied my curiosity for all things bizarre.

“Hold on, Janie. I’m pulling up to the curb.” The teacher who was monitoring the carpool line opened the back door of my car for the kids to get in. We weren’t supposed to talk on the phone in the car while on campus in case a child decided to dart out in front of a vehicle, but everyone broke the rules and then tried to pretend they weren’t doing it. Janie knew the drill.

“Hi, Mrs. Millinsky. How are you? Hey, kids, how was your day?”

Four children piled into the car, with their heavy book bags, zippers undone, things hanging out in every direction—sheets of crumpled paper and wadded up jackets. They threw the bags, along with their lunchboxes, on the floor and assumed their regular seats—Miranda behind me, and Blake behind the passenger seat, where he could have a clear view of me.

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