The Rescuer (5 page)

"And I'm a real y good paramedic." He took a few precious seconds to reach across and touch her cheek. "Promise."

38

QSS5O"

The first car accident victim arrived in the ER at 8:12

p.m., the stretcher pushed in by a paramedic wearing a rain slicker, her partner jogging alongside holding an IV bag up with one hand and steadying their smal patient with his other. The sounds and smel s from outside rushed in with them: An ambulance pul ed

.

out with sirens whooping like a huge bird to^varn traffic, rain pounded, and a sweet oily smel hung in the air from the asphalt getting washed for the first time in weeks.

Meghan reached them first, taking the IV bag and scanning the ten-year-old girl's face. They had been warned she was coming in. She smiled at the child who didn't have much left of her hair because a rescue worker had been forced to cut it to extract her from the wreck. The remains of the braid rested like a crushed cord an inch above her left shoulder, the sliced golden strands working their way apart in a frayed mat. The girl had been crying, but she was silent now, her eyes wide, her fear growing.

Meghan leaned in close in order to be heard as they rushed toward exam area two. "Tracy, your mom is coming in the next ambulance. Relax and just listen to the doctor; he's nice. You're going to be fine." There was no time for anything more as the trauma team surrounded the girl.

By the time the lead paramedic was done giving his report, the little one was on oxygen, a warm blanket lay across her chest, and two doctors worked on the right leg splint placed at the scene, a portable X-ray machine moved in to capture an image of the shattered bone.

Another doctor worked on the child's facial lacerations and bruises, talking with her as he did so, the only man in the medley of people who seemed unhurried. The child wasn't dying on him, and Jim had a refined sense of when to expend extra energy. Meghan watched the doctor work and wished she understood

39

how to duplicate that stil ness. Her ER shifts felt like twelve hours on adrenaline.

She turned away from the group and shoved back the curtain on exam area four. From the early radioed warnings Tracy's mom had been driving without a seat belt, and it had cost her dearly. Ryan's voice on the cal had been shaken. Paramedics saw everything in their job. It wouldn't be good. She doubled the amount of gauze set out.

Her shift had ended two hours ago but with the heavy rain she'd stayed where she could do some good. Now she was glad that she had. She heard the sound of the arriving ambulance moments before the doors crashed open. Ryan was pushing the gurney and Stephen was at its side. The water dripping from their jackets trailed back to the door, tinged red with blood. The resident took one look and hol ered for Jim to join them.

Meghan pul ed on fresh gloves and took up position a step behind Jim's right shoulder as Ryan swiftly gave details. Jim moved the packing to see what Ryan was describing. "Push that blood." His lead trauma nurse was a step ahead of him, already hanging another unit.

He looked over at the chief resident. "How's her oxygen?"

"Horrible. Her lungs are col apsed on the left. I'm opening it up." The resident readied a deep needle to pul out the misplaced air. Meghan accepted handfuls of bloody pressure bandages from Jim as he worked, and fed him back clean packing.

A movement of blue caught her attention and Meghan glanced up. Stephen was leaning against the back wal watching them. The front of his shin was covered with blood and he was stil breathing hard. His hands were the only thing clean, for he'd stripped off his gloves.

The man looked exhausted. Blue eyes met hers and held a moment, and she saw the depths of what he had seen at the scene.

The wal looked as though it was holding him up; he'd given

40

everything he had. At times Stephen cared too much for his own good. She wished she had a free moment to give him a hug just to ease that look of hurt darkening his eyes.

She turned back at what Jim was doing, focusing on staying a step ahead of him. The odds that Tracy's mom would make it were already improving. Her heartbeat had steadied, her blood pressure was low but stable, and the oxygen in her blood was rising.

Stabilize her, get her to surgery, and the specialists in ICU would keep her alive and give her a good chance to heal.

"Let's get her upstairs."

The nurse disconnected cardiac leads and transferred the IV to the hanging stand at the head of the stretcher.

Stephen pushed away from the wal and touched a hand to the woman's bare foot as she was pushed by.

"Where's her daughter?"

"Exam area two." Meghan bent to pick up one of the many bloody gauze squares that had fal en to the floor.

Stephen nodded and walked down to see the child.

Meghan watched him go and hoped he remembered the blood on his shirt before he got there. He paused by a biohazard bag and the blue shirt came off, leaving a gray T-shirt that was wet with rainwater, sweat, or both. He tossed the bloody shirt into the bag and then turned into exam area two.

"He was the one who cut Tracy's hair," she murmured to Ryan.

"Yes. She was pinned looking at her mom. It was the only fast solution we had."

Most paramedics she had figured out pretty early on.

They were white knights riding to the rescue, who enjoyed the adrenaline rush of a crisis. Stephen O'Mal ey was stil a mystery. He was emotional y invested in rescuing people yet he was one of the best at the job she had ever met. But for al their history together, his past was at best opaque to her.

41

Sometimes she thought he didn't want to do the job as much as he felt he had to do the job.

She tossed another bloody towel into a laundry hamper. Get this cleanup finished, get early word on how the woman's surgery was going, then she could head out. Right now more than anything she wanted to be sharing coffee at the kitchen table with her parents and be back in a world that was normal.

At least there she had the il usion of being safe.

A tap on the dressing room door interrupted his music.

"Five minutes, Mr. Peters."

Jonathan didn't bother to answer. The music he would perform tonight was already playing in his mind, and in a brief time he would stride onto the stage and sit at the grand piano and let it spil out before the intimate audience of hundreds. He would prefer thousands but not every orchestra hal was perfect.

He smoothed his tux. The Chicago music critics were out there. He played like a genius and everyone knew it. They would write rave reviews. And tonight after the concert he would put on a world-class performance that no one would see.

He tucked a red rose into his lapel. The lady who had sent the huge bouquet would understand the message.

She'd slip away to join him at his suite tonight. And he would do his best to ensure it was a night of romance worthy of good memories. It was the least he could do for one of his admirers.

He couldn't live on love alone and genius wasn't yet paying the bil s. Before he left for Europe in the morning, he would acquire the jewels Marie wore. Neil had been pressing lately for a major theft and Jonathan would accommodate him. His cut for the stolen diamonds and emeralds would pay his expenses for the upcoming year. He stole a few gems each year to keep himself in the lifestyle he was accustomed to, and if he had to have

Ji

42

a partner, Neil was the right choice. One didn't become an old thief without being smart about details.

If Marie realized the gems she put on tomorrow morning were exquisite fakes, she'd never admit the jewels had been taken at the hotel and by him. Her husband was an angry man and he

most certainly would not approve.

** "Two minutes, Mr. Peters."

He smiled at himself in the mirror. Yes, tonight would be a golden performance. He could hear the music clearly, and the anticipation of and adrenaline for a night of crime was rising. It was time. He strode down the hal for the stage and toward the welcoming applause.

The surgical waiting room was a quiet place on a Friday night. Stephen nudged a sliver of wood from the disk he was whittling, adding ndges to the outside of the piece.

"You are going to be late for your date," Ryan commented, joining him.

Stephen glanced up from his work. "We're going to meet for a late coffee instead."

Ryan set the folder on the bench. "I handed the keys off to the next shift and the paperwork is filed."

Stephen nodded his thanks. "No need for you to stick around. Say hi to your wife for me."

Ryan settled on the bench. "It's Friday. I'l wait a bit."

Stephen looked at the clock. Tracy's mom wasn't going to make it, not if the surgery lasted much longer. She hadn't been that strong going in.

"Meghan is pacing the ER waiting room watching the clock too. You could wander down that way"

"Meghan once told me she paces and prays-the harder she's pacing, the harder she prays. There's no need to interrupt. At this

43 V

t

the rescuer 43

point I'd even rub a rabbit's foot if I thought it might help." He wasn't one to place much faith in a God who supposedly control ed things. From what he could see, life was hardly being control ed. But he wasn't going to tel Meghan her faith wasn't important. To her it was.

"Accidents happen."

"Yes." Stephen flipped the checker and caught it on the way down. Eagle she gets better. He looked at the image. An eagle. He turned over the disk. He'd carved two eagles in this one. He slipped it in his pocket and got to his feet. "I'm going to go say hi to Tracy for a minute." He'd carved the piece for her.

44

45 Three

Meghan walked out of the hospital shortly before eleven, shivering at the wind gusts. She slipped on her lavender windbreaker as she hurried across the parking lot to her white jeep. She didn't carry a purse and her cash and keys were in her jeans pockets.

Tracy's mom was final y in the recovery room.

She saw Stephens car stil in the lot-she shouldn't have wished his date with Paula would fal through. He needed the distraction of a date tonight. She hesitated.

Should she go find him? No. He knew where she was al evening if he wanted to talk.

She unlocked her jeep and used the towel from the passenger seat to dry her face. The rain was easing up, but it would stil be an interesting trip. She headed to the highway.

She had the drive perfected so that she could listen to two audio books, stop at the truck stop on Route 39 for her midpoint fil -up, and in four hours be pul ing into her parents' driveway.

Meghan drummed her hand on the wheel as she crept along at twenty miles per hour. What construction was snarling traffic this time? Getting out of Chicago was the longest part of the drive. She final y spotted an exit ramp and got off the highway Even if the back roads added thirty miles to her trip, at least she would be going somewhere rather than sitting. She could cut through the forest preserve and over to the old two-lane county

46

road that fol owed the railroad tracks across the state.

It would eventual y take her directly into Silverton.

The tal oak trees in the forest preserve were casting strange shadows across the hood of Craig's car as he sat in the public parking lot. It was posted as closed after six o'clock but fiad no gate or security to enforce the curfew. Craig studied the clock on the dashboard and listened to the rain on the roof. He had a little cocaine left, just enough for one more lift. He calculated the time and forced himself to seal up the drugs. He couldn't get too high before his meeting, or Jonathan would notice and not go through with the exchange.

Helping steal jewelry was the easiest money he'd ever made, and he didn't want Jonathan to know what he was spending his extra income on. He was the courier, that was al , but it was steady income and someday...

He had plans. Someday he would walk away with a few stones from what he transported and make himself a fortune.

Craig reached over and opened his briefcase then lifted the lid on the box inside. The jewels glittered even in the dim interior light. He ran his fingers across the stones. They were the fake ones, but he would have the real ones soon. And when he delivered them to Neil tonight, he would have enough money to party for a ful month.

He closed the briefcase and looked up at the flash of lightning. He jolted as eyes looked back at him from outside. A deer. Craig giggled. He raised his hand to cover his mouth. It wouldn't do to show that giggle tonight; no, it real y wouldn't do to show that. Getting high was his secret.

Oh, life is good.

He worked at his old man's general store and pharmacy during the week, and while his father inventoried the pharmacy

47

drugs each week, suspecting something but never able to prove it, Craig borrowed the car on weekends and drove to Chicago to get away from the smal town suffocating blanket of people who thought they had a right to know what he did every minute. Someday he would have enough cash to walk away from that

"productive" and "honorable" job, and he didn't plan to give notice.

Craig started his car and gunned the engine, backing up and turning toward the exit. He loved the quiet solitude of this place. He could hear traffic but not see it, hear the sounds of the community around him but not have to show himself. His wheels spun on the wet pavement as he nearly plowed into the entrance sign and overcorrected back to the road. He thought hard.

Go left to cross the bridge and head downtown?

Jonathan would be annoyed if he was late.

Red lights flashed at him, but there wasn't a railroad crossing here. More construction? It would slow him down. The road began a rising incline and he relaxed, remembering the bridge. Cross the bridge and half a mile down the road he'd be back at the freeway.

White lights blinded him.

His foot slammed down on the accelerator as he tried to get out of the way. The white jeep already on the bridge nearly clipped him as it careened over the south side of the bridge and plunged into the gul y below. The sound of the crash sobered him and Craig stopped his car, heart pounding. He looked back but didn't see anything.