Deep Night (20 page)

“Since 1948, just before my daughter was born.” She opened her eyes and looked up at Sara with a sadness that was almost palpable. “My husband died in 1997, and I just kind of let things go.” Tears began rolling down her wrinkled cheeks. “No one but my daughter ever comes by anymore, and she lives so far away.”

Sara didn't point out that Fort Collins wasn't all that far, but she kept silent. This woman needed more help than she was going to get tonight.

Chris returned with four brawny firefighters single file behind him. “The kitchen is just around the corner and not quite as…er…deep as the living room,” he reported.

Sara looked up at them. “Her blood pressure is dropping and she's in a lot of pain. We need to get moving.” She turned back to the woman. “These firemen are going to help us get you to the ambulance. It's going to hurt, but we'll be as gentle as possible.”

“Thank you, missy.”

Sara wrapped the robe more snugly around the woman so it covered her front, but there was no way to get it around her back without moving her hip. “I'll see you outside,” Sara reassured her.

After Sara left the room, one of the firemen entered and moved to the other side of the toilet while another one brought in the scoop stretcher. It took a lot of manipulation to find room for it to lie flat on the floor.

Chris and Sara left them to it and joined the other two firemen to work on a path out of the house.

“Found a dead cat,” one of the firefighters said with disgust.

“That's number two,” Chris told him as he loaded a cardboard box with trash and papers and carried it outside to the backyard. By the time the two firefighters in the bathroom were able to load the woman, manipulate the scoop out the narrow door and carry her out to the hall, there was a two-foot-wide path for them to follow through the dining room and kitchen, then out the back door. Chris had brought the gurney up the driveway, and they gently placed her on it, then wheeled her to the bus.

Sara climbed into the back with the woman and got her settled. Even before she had fallen, the woman was severely dehydrated and probably malnourished. She was bone thin and her color was poor, but she was still conscious as Chris shut the doors.

He thanked the firefighters, who were all gulping in deep breaths of fresh air, then hopped into the cab and headed toward the hospital. Once there, Sara stayed with the woman until the doctor took her to surgery.

Chris and Sara cleaned the ambulance, then changed into clean uniforms. He found a fresh supply of shirts with his newly earned patch sewn on them hanging on the handle of his locker. He put one on and hung the rest inside. A couple of other medics came into the locker room as he was leaving and gave him the obligatory punch on the patch.

Sara was waiting for him in the ambulance. They buckled up and headed out.

“So, you jinxed it for us by mentioning an old woman with a broken hip,” she said, only half joking. They all had their own superstitions, and she was a strong believer in karma. And she tried never to tempt the fates.

“What kind of call do you want us to go to next?” he asked, not taking her seriously at all. It had just been the luck of the draw.

“Something easy…and maybe outside. I tried to hold my breath the whole time we were in that lady's house.”

“How do people live like that?”

“Usually it's after a major loss. They either lose interest and it just builds up until it looks hopeless or it's their way of controlling their environment. They can't let anything go.”

“Sad. She was sweet,” he commented.

“And lonely.”

“But you're not going to drop by for a visit, are you?” Chris reminded her.

She replied with a snort. “No, I'm going to be a good girl.”

He flashed an approving grin. “Maybe you'll have time tonight to reread that policy manual…”

“Disturbance in Civic Center Park. RP says a group of eight to ten young males, either drunk or high, are throwing things at cars and shouting obscenities. Adam 20, please respond.”

Chris and Sara listened to the interchange between the dispatcher and the police for several minutes as they called for backup, then requested a wagon as the activities increased.

“Suspect swallowed a rock,”
the cop on scene reported.
“Send a medic.”

“Ambulance 25, please respond to Civic Center Park, Code 10.”

“Ambulance 25, we're two blocks away,” Sara reported back, then flipped on the lights and siren.

Chris whipped the ambulance around in a U-turn and headed toward the park that was just across the street from the capitol building. “This is definitely not going to be an easy call.”

“Too bad Nick went back to Texas last week. He'd enjoy this one,” Sara commented.

“He was more interested in the effects of legal pot,” Chris reminded her.

“He was a narc. Any kind of drugs makes their day.”

They parked next to three police cars and pulled the stretcher out. From experience, they knew the suspect was going to be in bad shape.

Sam was standing over a middle-aged guy who was lying on the ground, foaming at the mouth and thrashing around like he was having a seizure. Several other cops were dealing with the crowd. A dozen people were already zip-cuffed and sitting on the ground, waiting for the wagon to arrive that would take them to either jail or detox.

“He swallowed a crack rock?” Chris confirmed.

“I asked him to open his hand, and he just popped it into his mouth.” Sam shook his head. He'd been a patrolman for more than eight years, and he'd seen it all. “It never ceases to amaze me that some people would rather risk death than be arrested. If he was a first-timer, he'd probably have gotten off with a fine.”

Sara and Chris pulled on their rubber gloves and dropped down on their knees next to the patient. Chris held him down while Sara checked his pupils and heart rate.

“We need to transport immediately,” she said. “And call ahead to have the doctor ready. This guy's going to have to have his stomach pumped.”

Chris and a firefighter who was on scene loaded the guy on the stretcher and strapped him down for his protection. They had just tightened the last strap when he stiffened and fell back. Sara rechecked his pulse.

“He's coding.” Sara started CPR, running next to the stretcher as the fireman and Chris pushed it to the ambulance. They loaded it in, with Sara keeping up the chest compressions by climbing on top of the patient and straddling him. Another firefighter jumped in with her to help, and they worked feverishly to revive the man.

Chris slammed the doors shut. Sam jogged with him to the driver's door. As Chris climbed in, he kept his voice low. “Hey, do me a favor. Look up Sara's father and find out how I can get in touch with him. He's been stalking her.”

“Will do. I'll text you what I find out,” Sam answered. “Just don't kill him. I hate paperwork.” He stepped back from the bus as Chris flipped on the lights and siren and pulled back onto the road, heading for the hospital that, thankfully, was only a couple of minutes away.

A doctor met them at the emergency dock. The firemen and Sara continued chest compressions and ventilations as they wheeled the stretcher down the hallway and into a treatment room. All the while, Chris was passing on information to the doctor about what had happened. They waited until the hospital staff transferred the patient to a bed and took over; then Chris and Sara thanked the firefighters for their help and pushed the stretcher back to their bus.

“I've got to take a shower,” Sara told him after they were back inside the vehicle. No matter how careful she had been, the man's saliva had gotten all over her.

“I'll get started on the bus.” Chris pulled into the garage across the street from the hospital and parked. Sara helped him unload the stretcher, then headed for the locker room while he sanitized it.

The rest of their shift was brutal, one call after another, until they finally arrived back at their apartment after eight in the morning. They had grabbed breakfast a couple of hours earlier between runs, so they weren't hungry. Riley jumped around them with typical delight at having them home.

“You can take your shower first,” Sara told Chris, “since I've already had several.”

“You did seem to attract all the bodily fluids tonight.” He laughed and pretended to allow a wide berth as he passed her as if she were contagious.

She reached out and wiped her hands all over his chest. “Every possible disgusting thing that seeps, pours or spews out of a human got on me tonight…and now it's on you.” She giggled, grabbed Riley's leash, clipped it on him and pulled him out the door before Chris could catch her.

He chuckled as he stripped out of his clothes while walking to the bathroom. He'd taken a couple of showers himself, but his muscles were all kinked up, and he knew the hot water beating on his shoulders would help. He stayed in as long as he dared. He had no idea about the building's water heater capacity, and he didn't want to use all the hot water up before Sara had a chance to use it.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, a cloud of steam followed him as he left the bathroom. Sara was already back and filling Riley's food dish.

“Your turn.”

She rolled her shoulders and rubbed her arms. “That CPR wiped me out.”

“The hot water will help.” He flexed his muscles. “I feel better already.”

“Yeah, well, you didn't ride a patient while a crazy driver hit every pothole in Denver.”

“Too bad he probably won't make it.”

Sara shrugged. “Crack is nasty shit.” She went into the bathroom.

Chris pulled on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt and lounged on the couch, trying to wind down from the adrenaline rush of their shift. It was odd how when they were really busy, time passed quickly and, instead of being tired at the end of the night, he was all hyped up. That was one reason he liked to work out in the mornings. It burned off a lot of energy.

Sara walked out a half hour later, dressed in her usual oversized T-shirt and shorts. Her hair was towel-dried and was tousled around her face. She was still rubbing her arm muscles. “It felt good, but it didn't really help.”

He patted the cushion next to him. “Tonight was rough, and you're still recovering. I'll give you a massage.”

She hesitated a moment. All the obvious conclusions played out on her face, but her pain must have overcome her concern, because she crossed the room and sat down with her back toward him. “You're right. All you did was drive around and do some heavy lifting. I'll take you up on your offer.”

Chris lifted his hands to her shoulders and ran his thumbs along her neck, following the cords of her muscles. He could feel the knots just below the surface that were probably too advanced to blame on tonight's activities. He worked on them until he felt them loosen. Sara's head rolled forward as the tension eased.

His hands moved to her shoulders. She felt small and fragile beneath his fingers. Because she always wore loose-fitting clothes, it was easy to forget how tiny she was. Plus, she more than carried her weight at work alongside men and women who were pounds heavier and inches taller. “You need a cheeseburger.”

She twisted around. “What does that mean?”

Uh-oh
…had he said that out loud? He didn't know much about women except that they were very sensitive about their weight, whether it was too much or too little.

“I just meant that you're working too hard and shouldn't skip so many meals.”

“If I regularly ate like you, even with my high metabolism, I'd weigh three hundred pounds.”

“Turn around. I'm not finished.”

With a sigh, she let him continue his massage.

He pulled the neck of her shirt wider so he could slip his hands under the material to get to her skin. His intentions were totally honorable until he touched the softness of her skin. The firm squeeze of his fingers gentled to a caress. He pushed the loose neckline off one shoulder and leaned forward to press a kiss on the curve of her neck.

She jumped like she'd been goosed and scooted to the opposite end of the couch.

Chris was frustrated and more than a little turned on. He was tired of whatever game she was playing. He raised his hands, partly in surrender and partly to show her that he was keeping his distance.

“Okay…enough. I can't play these games,” he stated. “Maybe I should get a place of my own…”

Before he finished, she grabbed his arm, then almost immediately jerked her hand back. “Please don't.”

He raked his fingers through his shaggy hair in exasperation. “I just don't understand. All I'm getting are mixed messages. And hey, I'm a simple guy. I've never had a serious relationship, but I don't think it's supposed to be this hard.”

“I can't…”

“But you did.
We
did…and it was wonderful. Now you cringe every time I touch you.”

“I don't like sex,” she admitted, her voice so low he could barely hear it.

“You could have fooled me.” He pounded his arm on the armrest. “Shit, I was hoping it wasn't true.”

“What?”

He leveled a look at her with eyes that were filled with disappointment and something close to embarrassment. “You did it because you felt sorry for me.”

“Did what?” She clearly didn't want to be having this conversation, but was curious what he meant.

He was tired of her avoidance of the issue. He just wanted a straight answer. “Was it a pity fuck?”

His bluntness caught her off guard. She blinked and leaned back. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you're not that kind of girl.”

“Oh, really. What kind of girl am I?”

“The Sara I know would do anything for a friend.”

“And you think I had sex with you because you needed a friend?”