It wasn't real, of course. She stood on shaking knees. "My parents are at a restaurant. It's Dad's birthday. You must be mistaken. They should be home any minute." The voice was not hers. It couldn't be real, and yet . . . she remembered the train whistle and the ghostly voice of Nick. The blood drained from her face and goose bumps covered her arms under the sweater.
"I'm sorry," Len said again.
Connie took her by the arm. "Sit down, Lisa. Your face is as white as a sheet." Her gentle attempts to get Lisa to sit were futile. "I'm sorry, but there is no mistake." She glanced up at Howard, who immediately chimed in.
"Officer Quint came from the scene of the accident. It happened about twenty minutes ago." He hesitated a moment. "They didn't make it to the restaurant. I guess it was storming so bad that they didn't see or hear the train."
"All of them?" Lisa insisted, still hoping to get a different answer. Even Angela and little Nick . . ."
Her knees finally gave way and she dropped into the chair. Spots flickered in her eyes as she leaned back. That was the last thing she remembered until she opened her eyes again and found all three of them hanging over her.
"Let's move back and give her some air." Len said. "I'll call an ambulance."
"She'll be alright," Connie said. "Just give her time to comprehend."
Lisa leaned forward. Her head felt like it could float off her body. Her hands were trembling and she felt sick to her stomach. She covered her mouth.
Candy spilled across the coffee table and a glass bowl was shoved in front of her mouth. "Here," Len said to Lisa. Without looking away, he addressed his request to Connie. "Why don't you get a wet cloth, Miss Spencer?"
Lisa stared at the bowl, the liquid frozen half way up her throat. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
A hand gently pushed her forward. "Keep your head down," Len said softly. His other hand removed the radio from his belt. Codes mingled with names and addresses in a request for medical assistance.
Connie returned with a cool damp rag which she placed on Lisa's face and then the back of her neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind Lisa knew it felt good. Someone gasped and then she realized the sound came from her throat. Feeling returned with a vengeance and her head pounded mercilessly. "I'm going to be sick." She jumped up, pushing them all away, darting for the bathroom with a hand over her mouth. When Len walked in, she was on her knees, clinging to the stool. He grabbed a rag and wet it before wiping her mouth.