Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) (13 page)

I knew Grant needed me more and this time I didn’t
hesitate, immediately climbing in as soon as his stretcher was secure inside
the ambulance. A saline bag swung from its stand, a steady drip being fed into
Grant’s arm. I buckled myself into a small seat out of the way of the EMT monitoring
his vitals.

   “Can you give me some information?” the EMT
asked. He had a notebook size laptop on his lap when he spun around to face me.

   “Yes, of course, whatever you need.”

He started by asking me what Grant’s full name was
and date of birth, followed by any allergies, blood type and a brief medical
history. Grant was allergic to penicillin, I knew that much, and that he had
broken his wrist when he was twelve years old.

He made some more notes, his fingers moving rapidly
across the keyboard. “Does your bother have a living will or do you now if he’s
an organ donor?”

    “What? My brother is going to be okay, right?”
Grant’s color still hadn’t improved and his breathing was aided by an oxygen
mask.

   “He’s lucky to be alive right now, miss, and I’m
sorry for the questions. As scary as they may seem, I’m required to ask them.”
He turned his attention back to Grant and that’s when all hell broke loose
again. Grant’s heartbeat on the monitor starting bleeping erratically and then
it was gone. Seconds passed and just a flatline streamed across the screen.

The EMT swore and immediately went back to work
trying to resuscitate. I held my breath and my nails dug into the bare skin of
my thighs as I fought to restrain myself. I wanted so desperately to be by
Grant’s side, but knew I’d only be in the way. The driver stepped on the gas
and sirens wailed over our heads as the ambulance went into overdrive. The
steady drone of the heart monitor drilled into my head and I wanted to scream
to get the sound out. I don’t know how much time passed, but finally a
heartbeat registered and then another just as the ambulance pulled in front of
the Emergency Room. A team of medical professionals was waiting outside and
went to work as soon as the ambulance doors sprung open. I stood off to the
side as they hoisted the stretcher out and pushed it inside. Blood had already
seeped through the white cotton blanket draped over Grant and I watched
helplessly as they rushed him through another set of doors into the surgical
unit.

The emergency department buzzed around me and I
stared at the doors where I wasn’t allowed entry. I vaguely remember a nurse
guiding me to a blue plastic chair in the waiting room. Not even two minutes
later the doors burst open again and Miranda was wheeled in. She was moaning
and clutching her abdomen.

   “We need an ultrasound STAT, which bay is open?”
The female EMT from the mall barked out.

I stood up and followed them into an empty bay where
they transferred Miranda to a bed and closed the privacy curtains. If I
couldn’t be by Grant’s side right then, I was going to be there for his wife
and unborn child. 

   “Nat,” Miranda held out her hand. It was cold and
clammy when I grasped it. “How’s Grant?” she asked.

   “I don’t know. They took him right in for
surgery.” She closed her eyes and a tear slid out from beneath, getting trapped
in her long lashes. A radiology tech wheeled in an ultrasound machine. I held
onto Miranda’s hand as the imaging wand was rolled over a barely noticeable
baby bump. The tech left saying the doctor would review the images, but
couldn’t give us a timeframe. Just as she was leaving, a nurse came in to give
Miranda an injection that helped the contractions to ease.

Miranda started to doze off so I released her hand
and stepped to the opening in the curtain. She jerked awake. “I need to call
Dante and let him know what happened. I’ll see if I can an update on Grant,” I
told her.

   “Okay, thanks Nat.” Miranda’s eyes drifted closed
again. She kept one hand resting on her abdomen and looked so small, like a
child buried underneath a mountain of blankets the staff had piled up on top of
her. 

Stepping out into the waiting area, I pulled my
phone out of my purse and scrolled through my contacts, finding Dante’s number.
I hoped it was still active and not a number for one of the many burner phones
he and the family used. After the fourth ring I was beginning to fear that I
wouldn’t be able to reach him. Finally Dante answered and there was a lot of
noise in the background. People were yelling mixed in with metal clanging.

   “Natalie?” he asked and while I could barely hear
him over the noise, I heard the surprise in his tone. I don’t think I ever
called Dante before, but Grant had wanted me to have his number just in case.
Well, this definitely qualified as one of those “just in case” moments and I
think he knew that because he immediately asked, “what’s wrong.” So I told him,
relieved to be able to share the burden with someone. “Are you fucking
serious?”

   “I wouldn’t joke about this. Dom told me to call
you. He said you’d know what to do.”

   “Right. Fuck. Okay, which hospital are you at and
where are they holding Dom?”

   “South Jersey Medical Center and I have no idea
about Dom. The local police arrested him.”

   “Alright. Hang tight, Nat, someone will be there
soon.”

After hanging up with Dante, I walked over to the
registration desk. A woman looked up at me from behind a wall of Plexiglas.
Sliding open a small window, she asked what I needed.

   “Is there an update on my brother, Grant Ross? He
was taken into surgery over an hour ago.”

   “Hold on, let me see what I can found out. We’re
busy today,” she said pointedly, like I had the audacity to ask for
information, and snapped the window closed. I leaned against the wall and
stared out at the waiting area. Not an empty seat could be seen and people were
sitting on the floor. The majority had their eyes glued to a flat screen TV and
the special news report on the shooting. I didn’t care to watch since I’d lived
through it, but then they showed Dominic being walked into the police building.
He was still handcuffed and had an officer on either side.  Dominic didn’t keep
his head down like most do under the same situation. Instead he met the media’s
scrutiny with a nod and expressionless face. I moved closer to the television
and a woman yelled at me. Glaring at her, I stepped out of her way.

Another woman approached me. At first I thought she
worked at the hospital because she was older, with graying hair and was wearing
scrubs, but then I noticed her sneakers were covered with bloodstains. “You
were at the mall,” she said, pointing at the television screen where the
footage of Dom was being replayed, “with him.”

   “Yes, that’s right. Were you there too?”

The woman nodded and swallowed, her eyes filling
with tears. Holding out a trembling hand she introduced herself, “I’m Meg
Chamberlain. That man saved my husband. The shooter had his gun aimed at Jim’s
head.” I held onto Meg’s hand and then pulled her in for a hug. She broke down
crying and I held her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

   “Excuse me, Miss?” I looked over Meg’s shoulder
and saw the woman from the reception desk. “Your brother is still in surgery.
That’s all I know.”

   “Thank you,” I said. Meg straightened up and
stepped away, wiping at her tears. Her eyes were red and swollen.

   “I’m sorry; you have your own burdens.”

   “It’s okay. Your husband, is he alright?”

   “Yes, he was shot once, but it went right through
his shoulder. A few stitches and maybe some physical therapy is all he needs.” I
nodded; personally familiar with that type of injury. The nerve endings in my
scar tingled as if in sympathy.

   “Good, I wish you both the best.”

   “What about you dear? Why did they arrest that
man when he killed the shooter?”

   “That’s Dominic and I don’t know. My brother was
shot and almost died on the way here and his wife went into premature labor or
something. Everything is so screwed up right now.” I blinked back the tears,
refusing to give into them again. It was time to remain strong. Grant needed me
for once and it was time I repaid him for all of the times he was there for me.

Meg squeezed my hand. “It will all work out, honey.
I’ll vouch for Dominic. If he hadn’t shot that man, it would have been a lot
worse. I’ll say a prayer for your brother and sister-in-law.”

The waiting room grew quiet and the volume went up
on the television as breaking news flashed across the screen. The camera
focused on a male reporter who was standing in front of the mall, the crime
scene tape moving in the wind behind him. Police officers were walking in and
out of the glass doors that led to the food court.

  
“The identity of the shooter has been
confirmed. Eduardo Reyes was a former security guard here and had recently been
let go. Details are still emerging, but we do know Reyes aspired to be a police
officer and had been unable to pass their physical requirements. The other
shooter, the man who ended Reyes’ shooting spree, Dominic Grabano of
Philadelphia, is being held for discharging a firearm that turns out to be
unregistered. He also does not have a concealed weapons permit. Stay tuned for
continued updates.”

I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the actual
shooting had nothing to do with the mob. Reyes had acted on his own volition
and we just happened to be there at the wrong time. Actually, if I thought
about it from Meg Chamberlin’s perspective, we were there at the right time.

Pushing off of the wall, I went over to the
automatic doors that led to the Emergency Room. Someone buzzed me in and the
doors opened. I made my way back to Miranda only to find she was asleep. Her
mouth hung open slightly and any worry lines seen earlier had been erased in
her relaxed state. Sitting in the one chair, I pulled my phone out and debated
calling my mom, but decided to wait until Grant was out of surgery.

A commotion outside of the ER doors carried down the
hallway and I heard a swoosh as the doors opened, causing the noise to grow
louder. Hurried footsteps, amplified by the click clack of heels on the
linoleum were headed in my direction.

   “Where is she, where’s my daughter?” I recognized
that voice and peered through the curtain to see Miranda’s mom rushing down the
hallway with Uncle Al right behind her.

   “Paulina, in here,” I said in a loud whisper
although she probably already woke up half of the patients, Miranda included.
Pulling the curtain aside, I made room for Paulina, who dramatically knelt down
at her daughter’s bedside; tearfully fussing and cooing.

   “Natalie, can I talk to you?” Uncle Al asked,
jerking his head to the side, gesturing for me to leave with him. We walked
down the corridor until we were in an unoccupied area. “Tell me what happened.”
So I told him everything, managing to hold it together even when I explained
how Grant had coded twice.

   “I met a woman in the waiting area who is willing
to vouch for Dominic. He saved her husband’s life.”

Uncle Al didn’t say anything at first, just pulled
me into a hug. He smelled like spicy cologne and a faint trace of cigar smoke.
Burrowing my face into his shirt, I drew comfort from his presence, just like
when I lost my shit after learning Grant was an enforcer by witnessing the
aftermath of three men being murdered.

   “Grant is tough and will pull through,” Al said
when he released me. “Dante and Rico are at the police station with our
attorney. Hopefully they can get Dom released tonight. Thanks for keeping
things together.”

   “The shooter acted alone, right? This has nothing
to do with…you know, the family?”

   “Right, just some fucking psycho decided to shoot
up the mall. The world’s going to hell, if you ask me. Seems like these shootings
are all you ever hear about anymore.”

It was true. There had been a string of them all
over the country lately. Just as the media coverage died down from one, another
happened. I was beginning to realize that violence can’t be avoided. It was
everywhere and a part of society.

   “Did you call your mom yet and let her know what
happened?” Al asked.

   “No, I’ve been waiting until I talk to a doctor.”

   “Call her, I sent someone to pick her up. Franco
should be at her house in less than two hours. She needs to be here and will be
too upset to drive once she finds out about Grant.”

   “Wait, Franco as in Franco’s Restaurant?” I
didn’t think Franco and Gloria ever left their restaurant.

   “Yeah, you’re family now Nat, this is what we
do.”

    “Okay,” I pulled my cell phone out of and called
my mom. Al stayed by my side and I appreciated his support. Her cell phone went
straight to voicemail. Since it was late afternoon during a week day, I called
her office. The operator patched me through to her extension.

   “Anna Ross, how may I help you?” she answered.

   “Mom, its Natalie.”

   “Natalie? Is everything okay?

   “Have you heard about the shooting at that mall
in New Jersey?”

   “Yes, we were just talking about it here. How
awful! Why?”

I took a steadying breath and gripped my phone
tight. “Grant was there, Mom, and he’s been shot.” Al placed a hand on my
shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

   “What?”

   “We were all there and Grant was protecting
Miranda. He’s in surgery now.”

   “I’m on my way. Where are you?” I heard a desk
drawer slam shut and paper shuffling.

   “Mom, wait, Uncle Al sent someone to drive you
here.”

She started to argue and Al must have heard her
because he plucked the phone away from my ear and took over. He paced the
length of the hallway and winked when he returned, handing the phone back to
me.  “I got her to agree she’s in no condition to drive and she agreed to let
Franco bring her here.”

   “Thank you.”

   “One mother handled, let’s go see if Miranda
needs rescuing from hers.” Al placed his hand on the small of my back as we
walked back to her bay. A doctor was in there talking to her and Paulina. She
was young and looked barely old enough to be out of med school. Her blonde hair
was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore the requisite white lab coat. 

   “A few days of rest should do the trick and drink
plenty of water as staying hydrated helps. You’ve been through a traumatic
event and it’s important to stay calm for the baby’s sake. I can refer you to
someone for counseling?”