“The old flip kind, not a smartphone. She carries it for emergencies. She told me once she had no idea how to do anything with it but place a call. I doubt there are any contacts stored in it that would help you.”

“We’ll check anyway. Do you know if she’s close with any of the other neighbors?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I mean, she’s friendly to everyone and shares her baking talents with all of us, but I’ve never picked up that anyone is more than a casual acquaintance.”

“I’ll see if I can find any useful information in the house.”

“Would you like me to help?”

“I’ll ask for backup if necessary. It may be as simple as going through her purse. Let me get your contact information in case we have any questions.”

The man must have forgotten about their earlier meeting during the bomb scare.

She recited her name, address, and cellphone number.

“Thanks.” The officer jotted it all down. “I remembered the name, but this saves me hunting up the address and phone.”

So he did recall their previous encounter.

“If I can offer any further assistance, don’t hesitate to call.” She leaned sideways and called out to the paramedics. “What hospital will you be taking her to?”

One of the technicians responded.

“If you’re thinking about following her there, that may be a wasted effort.” Officer Clark spoke as if he’d read her mind. “Unless you’re next of kin or have power of attorney, no one will tell you anything.”

That was true.

Yet sending Olivia off alone didn’t feel right.

On the other hand, she had a speech to give.

Eve blew out a breath. “I hate for no one to be there for her, but I do have another commitment.”

“I’d be happy to let you know who ends up being responsible for her decisions, if that helps.” The officer put away his notebook.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Let me walk you to the door.”

It was only a few feet away—but the man must be following protocol. With the owner incapacitated, law enforcement would probably be responsible for safeguarding the house.

He led her to the back door, and she eyed the splintered jamb around the lock as she passed.

Good luck securing that.

Not her problem—though it wouldn’t hurt to drop by later and make certain someone had taken care of this.

But for the next few hours, she had to keep the Young Republicans event top of mind—even if worry over Olivia would be nipping at the edges of her concentration.

She picked up the plate of cinnamon rolls and headed for home, pulling out her cell to see who’d called a few minutes ago, while she was in the house.

Brent—and he’d left a message. One bright spot in her day, at least.