Lifeline Echoes (28 page)

The blood seeping through the arm of his
shirt was deep red and Sandy cursed violently when she realized
he'd taken several hits there. She opened his shirt and if she
hadn't been working to save Ryan's life, she would have gotten up
and gone after Bull herself when she saw the deep purple bruises
along Ryan's rib cage, and the large spreading red mark directly
over his heart.

"Don't you go anywhere on me, Ryan. You hear
me?" Sandy checked his pulse again, dismayed to find it was rapid
and thready. "You stay with me, Ryan."

Someone laid a hand on her shoulder. Sandy
turned to see Deputy Penelope Sherwood standing behind her. "Life
Flight's en route," the deputy told her. "ETA about 10
minutes."

"I need something to support his head,"
Sandy said. "His airway's compromised. We can't leave him on his
back but I don't know if he has a neck injury. I have to stabilize
his neck."

Someone handed her a pillow from a nearby
car. Sandy folded it in half and used it to support Ryan's head.
"Don't let go," she told Sean. "Don't let his head move even a
centimeter."

She looked across the parking lot to where
Bull was being handcuffed by the deputy. Although off duty, DC had
shown up and was now officially running the scene. In his civilian
clothing, she almost didn't recognize him.

"Sandy." DC's voice was a surly growl as he
approached. "What happened here?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I got here
too late to see anything."

"Bull's over there saying Ry started this.
He's claiming self-defense."

Sandy leveled a look at the sheriff. "He was
mad enough, but I don't think he did." She shrugged. "I know he's
been gone a while, and you don't know him anymore, but he wouldn't
have gone after Bull here. Not in my parking lot. He knows how I
feel about that."

"No witnesses. And two men with bad blood
between them kicking the crap out of each other." DC shook his
head, "Got quite a mess here."

"Ryan didn't do nothing wrong." A voice rose
from the edge of the crowd.

The group of onlookers shifted in one fluid
motion, like a giant single-celled organism. The lights overhead
flashed on red hair as Ricky walked forward until he stood looking
down at Ryan. He trembled then looked over at his father.

"Bull was waiting for him." Ricky's voice
was tinged with a mix of misery and defiance. "He was mad at me for
helping with the fire today. Mad because the McGees let me help. He
brought me here to show me what he did to people who cross him.
When Ryan got out of his car, Bull jumped him. Ryan tried talking
to him but Bull was yelling. He wouldn't listen."

From ten feet away, Bull lunged against the
arms holding him back. "You shut your mouth, boy, you hear me? You
shut your mouth or you know it'll get shut for you."

DC turned to his deputy. "Get him out of
here, Sherwood. Book him on assault. Call Doc Trent to have a look
at him. I don't want him bleeding all over my jail."

Turning back to the teenager, DC placed an
easy hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll see you get home."

Ricky shook his head, regarding Bull with
hatred blazing in his eyes. "No, I'll get myself home. Just keep
Bull away from me. He's not my father." With the backs of his
hands, he scrubbed tears from his eyes.

The sound of a helicopter landing in the
church parking lot across the street interrupted the scene.

More than seven years had passed since Sandy
had given report on a patient. Somehow, she managed to untangle her
emotions enough to give an objective case presentation to the
middle-aged flight nurse in a dark blue flight suit. His badge
identified him as G. Wilcox, RN.

As she spoke, the Life Flight nurse worked
to finish stabilizing Ryan. Sandy helped get him onto a backboard,
closing her eyes when the nurse intubated him.

"Are you a doctor or a nurse?" asked
Wilcox.

"EMT, retired."

"Still certified?"

Sandy nodded.

"We're riding one short tonight," Wilcox
shouted over the sound of the helicopter. "It's against protocol,
but we sure could use a hand getting up to Jackson."

"I. . . " Sandy hesitated, torn between the
life she'd tried to forget and the man she loved.

"Go, Sandy," urged Sean. "I'll let Dad know
what happened and meet you up there."

Kicking herself into professional EMT mode,
Sandy climbed into the helicopter. They were at the trauma center
in Jackson in less than twenty minutes, and then she was relegated
back to observer status as Ryan was whisked away for evaluation and
treatment.

She sank into one of the generic plastic and
metal chairs so common in emergency rooms, and let the tears fall
while she waited for Sean to arrive.

****

A gentle hand touched her on the shoulder.
Sandy started. She must have fallen asleep. Quickly, she looked at
the console but the red light wasn't lit. Looking around, she saw a
tall, dark-haired man dressed in firehouse dress blues. She
registered deep compassion in his warm brown eyes.

"No," whispered Sandy. "Not yet,
please."

"Alexandra, I'm Chaplain Hindson with LAFD,"
he introduced himself. "I understand you've been talking to one of
our men."

"He's been calling in every so often, trying
to conserve the battery on his hand-held," Sandy said. "His name is
Mickey."

Chaplain Hindson nodded. "How are you
holding up? You've worked almost twenty-four hours."

"Only about twenty-one so far."

The red light on the console popped on.

"Hey Angel, I'm checking in. Are you
there?"

"As promised." She looked over her shoulder
at the chaplain. "Mick, there's someone here who wants to talk to
you. Chaplain Hindson."

The radio squawked but Mick was silent. When
he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Okay, put him
on."

"Son, is there anyone you want us to
call?"

Mickey took a long time to answer. "There's
a letter in my locker for my family. Call them . . . afterwards,
okay Padre?"

"Son, we might be able to patch you through,
let you talk to them."

"No! This is for them, Padre. They can't do
anything and they'll hate that. Best to leave it until it's over.
Lieutenant Ryder has all my particulars in my employment
files."

"Okay son, it's your call. Is there anything
else we can do?"

"No offense, Chaplain Hindson," Mickey said
between gasps. "But I'd really like to go back to chatting with my
girl. I'm not getting out of here, and I'd really like for her
voice to be the last one I hear."

"Of course, son." The chaplain motioned for
Sandy to take her seat again. "I don’t think he has much longer.
Thank you for doing this. I'll be here in the main office if you
need me."

"Hey, Mick, I'm back" She was aware her
voice sounded too brassy. She was losing her tenuous hold on her
emotions. Tears blurred her vision and she hastily wiped them
away.

"Hey there, girl. Those better not be tears
for me I'm hearing."

"Now what makes you think I would cry for
you? Maybe I jammed my toe on my desk."

He chuckled. "Are you a klutz, Angel?"

"You know it."

"I mean it about no crying." His voice was
serious. "I've lived a good life, gotten into my share of trouble.
I have a family I love. And I'm even more'n halfway in love with
you, Angel. I've had it good. I just wish I would have got to kiss
you."

****

A gentle hand on Sandy's shoulder startled
her. She looked up, surprised to see Ryan's green eyes regarding
her solemnly. No, not Ryan, her tired brain finally registered.
Sean.

"Any word?" he asked.

Sandy looked past Sean to see Justin
settling into the seat next to her. The old cowboy looked out of
place in the hospital. His face—an older version of Ryan's face,
she realized—was pale. He had deep shadows in his blue eyes.

"They took him for a CT scan a few minutes
ago to check for internal bleeding into the abdomen, and bleeding
in the brain. He hasn't woken up yet." Her voice cracked and next
to her, Justin took her hand. "They're watching his heart because
he took a bad blow to the chest and if he develops bruising or
swelling in the pericardium, the rhythm can—" She stopped, pressing
the heels of her hands into her eyes, then dropped her arms and met
Sean's eyes. She finished in a whisper. "His heart can stop."

Justin's hand tightened spasmodically, and
Sandy turned her hand over to clasp his. Sean slumped in his
seat.

****

Waiting was always the worst. Sandy took a
small measure of comfort that this time the subject of her vigil
was actually receiving medical care, rather then waiting for rescue
that would never come.

She laughed when Sean shared stories about
growing up as Ryan McGee's baby brother. She knew she wasn't
fooling Sean with the lighthearted optimistic act, but he seemed to
need to keep talking.

When Sean finally trailed off, Justin stood,
stretched. "I never was a good one for waiting. I saw something
looking like it might pass for coffee on the way in." He clutched
his hat by the brim as if it was the only thing holding him
upright. "If—" He broke off awkwardly.

"We'll find you if we hear anything," Sandy
promised.

When he was gone, Sean looked up into
Sandy's eyes, seeking answers. Though he didn't voice the question,
she understood he wasn't looking for her to give assurances if
there were none.

"The testing can take a long time," she
said. "Best case will be by the time the tests are done, he'll be
awake and surly because he wants to go home, but his mental status
will be clear. He's going to hurt for a while."

Sean said nothing. She knew he recognized
her omission of the worst case scenario.

"Why did they put a tube down his throat?"
he finally asked.

"He was choking on his blood." She spoke
quietly, maintaining outward calm she didn't feel. "It was just to
help him breathe past the blood." She didn't mention that an
endotracheal tube would protect Ry's throat against swelling
shut.

"Is he going to die?" Sean finally asked
outright. His face displayed stark terror, mirroring what she felt
herself.

Sandy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know." A
tear slid down her cheek, followed by another one. With a sniff,
she cleared her throat and dashed the tears from her face. "Sean,
that was a horrific beating. A lot of hate went into it. Your dad
told me how you lost your mother but this hatred of Bull's . . . it
feels like more. It runs deeper. What happened between them?"

"You have to ask Ry."

With a determined shake of her head, Sandy
glared at him. "No, you don't get to put me off. I'm asking you.
Ryan said there were things I needed to know, things he wanted to
tell me. He would have told me tonight, but we never got the chance
to talk. So I'm asking his brother to help him out here."

Sean stared indecisively for a minute. Then
he gave in. "Bull and his parents are convinced Ry killed Bull's
brother, Mac. And, I think, at least a little bit, Ry accepts the
responsibility."

"No," she whispered in dismay. "What
happened? Was there an accident?"

"We all called him Mac but his name was
John, Johnny when he was younger. Somewhere along the way, Ry
called him Mac and it stuck. Mac decided Mac MacKay sounded
cool."

Sandy blinked in surprise. That name. Mac
MacKay?

When she'd asked Mick his name, he'd said,
"Mick—Mickey." Hadn't he? Could he have actually said "Mac MacKay?"
The radio connection hadn't been great. She shook her head. No,
that would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn't it? To end up in
Mick's hometown? And yet, what were the odds she would stumble onto
another person in Wyoming with such a similar name, who was also
dead?

"Sandy?"

She forced her attention back on Sean.
"Sorry, my mind was wandering."

He sat still, just looking at her. She
shifted under his scrutiny, wondering if he had any idea how like
his father he was.

Finally, he picked the story up again.

Sandy's heart broke for the battered
sixteen-year-old, and for the not-quite-man who'd tried to rescue
his abused cousin, then turned his back on his family rather than
involve them in something that would only bring more MacKay wrath
down on them.

"How did Mac die? Why does Ryan feel
responsible?"

"After they did a tour in the Army, Ryan and
Mac became firefighters," Sean said.

Sandy nodded as things began to fall into
place. "Right. Walt Blackstone said Ryan fought oil fires." Sandy
busied her hands by flipping through a magazine without looking at
it.

"He did for a while, before Mac came of age
and they joined the Army together," Sean explained. "But this was
after they left the Army. They mustered out at Fort Irwin. Ended up
in L.A."

Sandy's hands stilled in mid-flip.

"Apparently they met someone from their unit
in the Army, who got them into the training program for L.A. City
Fire Department."

She shivered against a sudden icy
sensation.

"You're pale. Are you okay?"

Drawing a deep breath to shore her nerves,
Sandy nodded. "Go on."

Sean stood and began pacing in the tiny,
deserted room as he spoke. "Mac's whole life, what Ry did, Mac did,
too. My brother was his hero."

Sandy's heart squeezed just a little for
Sean. Clearly Mac wasn't the only one who'd always looked up to
Ryan. "But just because Mac decided to be a firefighter, too . . .
that doesn't make his death Ryan's fault."

"They were partnered up," Sean
explained.

Little pinpricks began to crawl along her
skin like thousands of unseen insects. Setting the magazine down,
she rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the feeling.