The Rescuer (3 page)

The conversation broke up and Kate turned her attention to her breakfast. "So what have you been up to lately besides convincing Paula to give you another chance?"

He opened his shirt pocket and tugged out a checker piece he had carved. "Another one for your col ection."

They would have enough to play a game soon.

She studied both sides of the checker. "You're getting real y good at the detail work."

"The whittling is a chal enge. It's certainly tougher than hanging drywal ." On his days off he gutted and remodeled old homes. He enjoyed the carpentry work.

It didn't wear at his emotions the way being a paramedic did.

She tucked the piece in her pocket. Kate's eyes narrowed as she looked over his shoulder.

He knew better than to turn and look. Her face turned impassive. At her simple shift-to-work mode, Stephen slid his plate aside. The more impassive she got, the more dangerous she was. "Cool off, Kate."

Her gaze met his and the anger in her eyes had him leaning back. "That cop nearly cost me a child's life."

"You look like you're ready to deck him."

"Maybe serve him my breakfast in his lap." She picked up

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her water glass. "We had a custody blowup last week.

A dad took his daughter from school during recess and A dad took his daughter from school during recess and holed up at his place, threatening to kil her rather than let his wife have custody. I got cal ed in. That patrol officer nearly gave away the SWAT team position when he decided to get some media airtime and describe what had happened and his role in it."

"Not everyone avoids media like you do." **

"He's not a rookie; he knows better."

Stephen reached over and loosened her fist. Whoever made the mistake of thinking Kate was not a cop down to her marrow didn't understand what drove her.

Justice for her was very black and white. "Let it go."

Peg's drowning had driven him to be a paramedic, and Kate had also made the decision to be a cop at an early age.

"You're right. He's not worth it." Her tension turned to a hard smile. "He's a little out of his normal patrol area.

He probably has a meeting with my boss to discuss the incident. He won't feel like stopping to eat afterward."

Stephen smiled. "That's better. Your optimism is back."

"It's going to be one of those Fridays. I can feel it."

"I hope you're wrong."

His radio sounded. Stephen pushed back his chair and stood. He set money on the table and leaned over to kiss Kate's cheek. "I've gotta go. See you around this weekend."

"I want to hear about this date, Stephen."

Knowing the O'Mal ey family grapevine, it would be common knowledge soon after it was over. "As if I could keep it from you. Stay safe, Kate."

"I'l do my best."

Stephen headed back to the ambulance. He stayed in Chicago because of Kate. He didn't bother to tel her that, but she proba-23

bly already knew. Someone needed to watch her back, and their oldest brother Marcus who normal y fil ed that role was working in the U.S. Marshal's office in Washington, D.C. After Kate was married and had someone else around to watch her back, he'd think more seriously about moving on. He would find a smal town with a lake where he could cultivate his love of fishing and find an EMS job where he'd treat more bee stings and heart attacks than gunshot wounds. He liked the certainty of having that dream even if he didn't have a plan to act on yet.

His partner Ryan was towel drying his hair. The ambulance passenger door was open but Ryan stood outside. The heat built up inside the metal box fast.

"I'l drive," Stephen said. His new partner was stil learning Chicago's streets.

Ryan tossed his towel across the hot leather seat.

"Fine with me."

Dispatch assigned them to a code three run-a transport from Memorial Hospital to Lutheran General-so Stephen didn't bother with the lights and sirens. It was probably a high-risk pregnancy being moved to the specialized maternity unit. He'd almost rather deal with a gunshot victim than a woman in labor. They averaged two pregnancy runs a month where a lady mistimed the pace of her contractions and left going to the hospital a little too late. Infants were hard to handle in a moving vehicle that was never designed to be a delivery room. At least with pregnancy runs, one of the nurses from the maternity ward rode along to be safe.

Stephen pul ed in to Memonal Hospital and looked around at the vehicles. He didn't see Meghan's jeep.

There was family, there were girlfriends, and then there was Meghan. The ER nurse was in a class by herself.

"She must stil be on night shifts," Ryan commented.

Stephen glanced over, his right eyebrow raised a fraction.

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"Meghan. That is who you're looking for, isn't it?"

"She's just an old friend."

Ryan laughed. "If you say so, O'Mal ey" He tugged run sheets from the folder under the seat. "Let's go find our pregnant lady. I'm guessing triplets."

"Lunch says it's twins trying to come early"

ir

"You're on. And if I'm right, I'm driving and you can ride the back bench with her."

SILVERTON, ILLINOIS

Craig Fulton opened the door to Neil Coffer's jewelry store Friday afternoon and heard familiar chimes signal his entrance. He walked through the store past the display counters and the spin racks of postcards of famous jewelry to the door in the back of the store marked employees only. Ignoring the restriction, he walked through to the repair shop.

In a tourist town the size of Silverton, the jewelry Neil sold attracted more lookers than buyers. Not many farmers and smal business owners could afford an antique bracelet that started in the thousands or a modern necklace that cost five figures. Fortunately, Neil also had a thriving jewelry repair business that paid the bil s. Orders to jewelry stores around the state were stacked on the side counter, already prepared for Fed-Ex to pick up.

Craig waited until Neil looked up from the large magnifying glass and the piece he was working on.

Neil hated to be interrupted while a repair was underway, and Craig had no desire to get on his bad side today Hunched over the workbench the man looked more like ninety than seventy-five. He was a chain smoker and time had not been kind. How the man ever sold any jewelry was a mystery. He hadn't smiled since the Nixon era. When he did unwil ingly part with a piece, he hardly offered much of a bargain.

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Neil lifted the diamond from the ring with tweezers and placed it in a smal ceramic dish inside a box labeled: Mrs. Heather Teal. Only one customer's piece was al owed on the repair bench at a time, and the smooth metal work area was lined with a ridge to prevent a stone from rol ing off onto the floor. Rumors circulated that Neil had been a forger for the army during the cold war, making documents to al ow soldiers to move around behind enemy lines, and Craig tended to believe it.

Neil finished his task and closed the box holding Mrs.

Teal's work order. He walked to the east wal of the room and opened the door to the walk-in safe. When Neil had bought the old bank building, he turned its massive walk-in vault into a storage place for his jewelry.

Someone had robbed Neil two years ago, taking the pieces in the front room display cases. During the trial a year later, it had come out that the pieces in the display cases were actual y excel ent fakes of the real pieces Neil kept stored in the safe. When he went back to box a sold item, he retrieved the actual piece.

Some of the town residents had been impressed that he didn't leave out valuable pieces to be taken; others were embarrassed over raving about a fake diamond's size and clarity. The defense counsel had tried to argue that Neil was actual y sel ing fakes and his client was wrongly charged. But the few pieces sold over the years to townspeople had al proven to be real diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, so the accusations didn't stick.

Craig had thought more than once about stealing Neil's real gems as a way to finance leaving town for good.

He gave up that idea when he realized Neil kept the vault locked when he wasn't using it, had a loaded handgun under the counter, and had mirrors and cameras set around the rooms to let him see what went on at al times.

Neil brought back a smal black box from the safe.

Craig set

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his briefcase on the counter, opened it, then Neil put the box inside.

"You have Jonathans directions?" Neil pul ed an envelope from under the counter and added it to the briefcase.

Craig nodded. "I meet him at his hotel room in downtown Chicago at midnight. I'l be back here no later than 5 a.m."

Neil stared at him, and Craig felt swl*at trickle down his back.

"The back door wil be unlocked. I'l be waiting for you."

Craig nodded and closed the briefcase. He would consider double-crossing a lot of people, but Neil was not one of them. The man was just crazy enough to be unpredictable.

CHICAGO

The ambulance smel ed like disinfectant by midafternoon. Stephen wiped down the gurney with warm water. It never failed to amaze him where blood ended up. The last transport had been a simple nosebleed, but neither ice nor pressure had stopped it.

The doctors would have to pack it off. Now the ambulance was parked in Memorial Hospital's side parking lot while they cleaned the rig and restocked supplies.

Ryan closed drawers and locked the drug cabinet that held the morphine and Valium. Including those vials in the red medical case they carried with them to a scene just meant someone would inevitably grab the case and run. "We're in pretty good shape." Ryan passed over the clipboard. "Sign on page four and six and initial nine."

Stephen tugged a pen from his pocket, read the pages, then scrawled his signature. "Add another C>2

cylinder and a replacement nebulizer, and see about a dozen more biohazard bags. We've got a persistent sharps problem by the end of the shift." He'd nearly stuck himself with a used needle that had been slid 27

into a discarded IV tubing for lack of something proper to encapsulate it.

Ryan nodded and took the pad. "I'l go sweet-talk Supply for us." He stepped down from the ambulance and headed toward the hospital.

Stephen wiped down the storage cabinets under the bench, then rubbed sweat off his face with the back of his sleeve.

"Maybe this wil help."

He glanced to the back of the ambulance and set down the rag to take the large glass of ice water. "Thanks, Meghan." He wondered if she was working today. He leaned over to touch the sleeve of her uniform. The white fabric stil had a pressed crease in it. "Air-conditioning. I'm jealous."

She laughed and perched on the bumper. "It's actual y a bit chil y inside. Guys have an advantage-you look good sweaty"

He drained the entire glass then removed a piece of ice to rub on the back of his neck. She definitely did not look wilted. He flipped water from the melting ice at her and then set aside the glass.

It was nice having her back in his life. Her family had moved away from the Trevor House neighborhood when he was fifteen, and it wasn't until she was in nursing school that they'd been able to catch up on their old friendship.

She leaned into the ambulance to look at the roof, getting in his way and nearly dragging her hair in the dirty water. "Where is this bul et hole I heard about?"

He shifted her away from trouble and pointed toward the front of the ambulance. "The guys on last night's shift had an interesting time." They had been trying to treat a gunshot victim and had come under fire from shooters on the roof of a building across the street. It was a sad day when an ambulance wasn't considered an out-of-bounds target.

"If it rains tonight it's going to drip in here."

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"Ryan is getting us some patching material. You think it's going to rain and break this heat?"

"Ken thinks so. He's predicting four inches of rain, with heavy winds and unusual y strong lightning."

Stephen hoped her cousin was at least partial y right.

They needed rain.

"According to his forecasts, it wil probartiy blow in around 7 p.m. and last wel into the night." Meghan reached for the lotion he kept in the cleaning supply case and rubbed it liberal y into her hands. "I'm going storm chasing with him tomorrow. I want a tornado picture for my wal and am determined to get it this year."

"Quit wishing for trouble, Meghan, and drive careful y tonight. You'l be heading right into the rain."

"I get off at six. I'l either go before the rain arrives or wait until the worst of it passes."

"Just don't chase lightning when you can't find your tornado. I want you coming back as you are, not with lightning curled hair."

She laughed and tugged over the supply case to help him out.

Stephen was beginning to suspect she had a boyfriend in Silverton given how many trips home she made, but he drew the line at probing the subject. If he knew a name then he'd have to go check the guy out to make sure he was good enough for her, and that would cross the line into meddling. At least she was smart enough not to say yes to some of the doctors around here who asked her out. Meghan wasn't a city girl at heart, and it would do her good to find someone back in Silverton, move home, and work in her father's medical practice.

She talked about it often enough. A house, babies, and working with her dad. The girl had good dreams.

His phone rang in his shirt pocket. He'd just plunged his

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hand into the bucket of water. He looked around for his towel and scowled when he saw it already pitched in the laundry bag.

Meghan solved the problem by reaching over and tugging out his phone. "Hi, you've reached Stephen's secretary." She grinned and leaned against the bench, lifting one foot up onto the bumper. "Hi there, Jennifer.

Your brother is cleaning up the rig at the moment and making faces at me."

It was unusual to hear from Jennifer in the middle of the day. Stephen opened a new rol of paper towels.

Meghan covered the phone. "Are you interested in a twenty-one-inch painting of a fish?"