Читать книгу Protector's Instinct - Janie Crouch - Страница 8

Chapter One

You’re a liar. And everyone is going to know.

Caroline Gill glanced at the text on the phone, then promptly shut it down and put it away. She had ignored similar texts for the last four days, hoping they would stop. Someone obviously had the wrong number.

Caroline may be a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. Life was too short to live surrounded by lies.

She’d learned that the hard way eighteen months ago.

She made a mental note to call the phone company or look into how to block texts on her phone after her shift tonight.

Because she definitely didn’t have time to do it right now. She had a real crisis to deal with. As the ambulance pulled to a stop, Caroline jumped out of the passenger side and surveyed the utter chaos around her.

As she looked around the wreckage, she took a deep breath, trying to ascertain what she needed to do first. The thick morning fog that had blown in from the coast of Corpus Christi made everything more difficult to deal with—especially a deadly crash.

As a paramedic she dealt with accidents and injured people on a daily basis. Thankfully she didn’t experience a situation as bad as this often: at least seven cars in a deadly pileup.

She turned back to her partner, who was just getting out of the ambulance. “Kimmie, radio Dispatch. We need help. Mass casualty. Let them know.”

Kimmie did so immediately as Caroline further studied the situation before her. The fog had been a big factor in what caused this multicar pileup on State Highway 358. But a bigger factor looked to be like some idiot who had been driving the wrong way down the crowded street.

“Help me.”

Caroline heard the weak voice coming from a truck a few yards away, just one of many. Some were sobbing, some begging for help, some basically screaming. Absolute chaos in a situation where no one could see more than two or three feet in front of them.

Caroline blocked out the voices—she had to, despite their volume or the words or sounds they made. She had learned a long time ago as a paramedic that the loudest people weren’t always the ones who needed the most help.

Caroline pulled on gloves as Kimmie came running around from the driver’s seat of the ambulance they’d arrived in together. “Dispatch is sending who they can. There’s multiple calls because of this fog.”

Caroline pulled out her triage kit, including the tags of four different colors inside. “We’re going to have to tag everyone until help gets here. Thirty-second evaluations, okay? Green for minor injuries. Yellow for non-life-threatening. Red for life-threatening. And black...”

Caroline faded out. They both knew what black meant. Dead or so near to dead the victim couldn’t be helped now.

Kimmie looked a little overwhelmed. Caroline’s partner was relatively new and this was probably her first mass casualty situation. “Kimmie, you can do this. You’ve done it in training. Don’t spend more than thirty seconds with each person and make sure the tag is the first thing seen when more help arrives.”

They split up and began the always difficult job of choosing who would be treated first when more help arrived. Everyone was hurt. Everyone was scared. Everyone wanted to be the first ones treated. But they couldn’t all be.

Caroline sprinted to the first victim, who unfortunately didn’t take long to be evaluated. He was lying on the pavement covered in blood. He obviously hadn’t been wearing his seat belt and the force of the impact had thrown him through the windshield. Caroline quickly searched for a pulse, felt none, so removed her hands before trying once more, hoping she was wrong. A lot of blood loss didn’t always equate to death.

But in this case it did. “Damn it,” she muttered under her breath before pulling out a black tag and placing it near the man’s head. This would discourage other first responders from stopping for him until the other more critical cases could be taken care of.

She ran to the man screaming at the top of his lungs next. His car was the one facing the wrong direction. She braced herself for what she would find because of the sheer volume of the man’s yells. But instead of finding some gaping wound or bones protruding in a hideous injury, she found a man, probably in his late twenties, holding his hand where it looked like his pinkie was dislocated.

“Thank God,” he said as soon as she got close enough. “What took you soo-long?”

If the words slurring together didn’t give her enough of a clue of his drunken state, the stench of alcohol that immediately accosted her senses did.

“Sir, are you injured besides your finger?”

“My finger is broken, not injured.” He held it up as proof. “And the window of my car is smashed and the door won’t open. I need you to fix that right away.”

What did he think this was, AAA? Caroline didn’t have time for this jackass who—coupled with the fog—had probably been the cause of this entire situation.

“Sir, I need to know if you have any more injuries. There will be someone here soon who can help you get the door open.”

The man just narrowed his eyes and let out a string of obscenities. “Don’t you leave me here, you bitch.”

Caroline could hear the cries of other people, including at least one child. She vaguely wondered if she smashed her elbow in this guy’s face if it would look like something that just happened in the wreck. But she forced herself not to.

She handed him a yellow card. “Sir, give this to the next EMT or firefighter who comes your way, okay?”

The man immediately scoffed and threw it on the ground. “Don’t you dare leave me. All these people were driving on the wrong side of the road.” He grabbed her arm through the window. “I’ll have your job if you leave me.”

She grabbed his other, uninjured, pinkie, bending it back, knowing the pressure would cause him to release her arm. It was one of the self-defense moves she’d learned in the multiple classes she’d taken over the last year and a half.

No man would use his strength against her and make her a victim ever again.

“Unless you want me to break your other pinkie,” she said to the drunk guy, “I suggest you let me go. Besides, you’re going to be too busy sitting in jail to have my job.”

The man released her and went back to yelling his obscenities at the top of his lungs. Caroline picked up the yellow tag and removed the adhesive cover on the back, sticking it to the outside of the car. Hopefully the guy wouldn’t mess with it. She quickly moved on to the next car.

“Please help me.” A mother was sobbing in the driver’s seat, blood dripping from her face. A young girl and a baby sat in the back seat. The little girl was crying also.

“Ma’am, I’m here. It’s okay,” Caroline said, taking in the situation. The woman was pinned inside her vehicle where the front end had been crushed when it had been rear-ended into a safety railing. Her legs were trapped.

“My kids.” The mom was hysterical, unable to see or help her children in the back. “Why is Nicole crying? Are they hurt? Is the baby okay?”

Caroline used her flashlight to shine into the car as she talked to the woman. “Hey, what’s your name?” she asked the mom as she pulled on the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The woman’s legs were definitely pinned. The firefighters would have to get her out of here.

“Jackie.”

Caroline couldn’t tell what state Jackie’s legs would be in, but for right now she was a yellow card. Needed help, but wasn’t life-threatening. But the woman was still sobbing.

“Jackie, I’m going to check the kids now. But I need you to stop crying, okay? And hold this.” She gave the woman the yellow tag. “This lets the firefighters know what to do.”

She could see Jackie try to get herself under control. “My kids. Please, my kids.”

Caroline touched her on the shoulder through the window that had been broken. “I’m checking right now.”

She moved to the back door and opened it. A little girl in the back, about three years old, was sobbing, obviously terrified.

“Jackie, what’s your daughter’s name?”

“Nicole.”

“Hey, Nicole,” Caroline crooned. “You doing okay, sweetie?” The fog floating around the car and her mother’s cries were frightening the girl. Caroline touched her gently on the cheek and she settled a little bit.

“I want Mama,” the little girl said, hiccuping through her tears.

“I know you do. It will be just a few minutes, okay? Does anything hurt, sweetheart?” The girl seemed to be fine, but it was difficult to tell.

“No. I want Mama.”

“I’m here, sweetie.” Jackie was pulling herself together now that she could talk to her daughter. Nicole calmed down more as her mother did. “Is David okay?”

“Can you hold this for me, hon?” Caroline handed little Nicole a green tag. Someone else would check her out more thoroughly, but for right now, the girl didn’t seem to need more medical attention. “Nicole seems fine, Jackie. I’m going to check on baby David now.”

Baby David hadn’t made a sound the whole time. Caroline’s heart caught in her chest as she ran around the car to his side.

The baby, not older than six months, lay silently in his rear-facing car seat as Caroline pried open the door. As she reached over to check the baby’s pulse, she could hear Jackie’s ragged, terrified breathing.

She couldn’t see any blood or noticeable injuries, but he didn’t move at all at her touch. Caroline sent up a silent prayer that the child was alive. With babies, everything was tricky, since they were unable to communicate.

She found his pulse at the exact moment little David opened his eyes. He studied Caroline intently before taking his thumb and jamming it in his mouth, sucking on it.

“He’s okay, Jackie. He’s sucking his thumb.” She reached over David and squeezed Jackie’s shoulder. “I can’t say for certain that he is injury free, but he’s alive and he’s alert.” Caroline laid a yellow tag on baby David. He probably could be green-tagged, but with a baby she’d rather be safe than sorry. Someone would still need to check him more thoroughly.

“Jackie, you saved your kids’ lives by having them properly restrained in their car seats. You did great. I have to check on others, so I need you to keep it together. Help will be back again soon.”

Caroline didn’t wait to hear any response. She rushed to the next victim. By the time other sirens approached a few minutes later, she had evaluated many victims.

Two were dead. At least two with severe injuries. A half dozen more with minor injuries that would require attention.

And a drunken jackass, still yelling, with a dislocated pinkie.

That first dead guy she’d come across had a couple of children’s dolls in the back seat of his car. Somebody’s dad was never coming home again. Yet a drunk driver who’d never even known he was driving the wrong way down a highway was going to be just fine.

Sometimes the world just wasn’t fair. Caroline knew that much better than most by what had happened to her nearly two years ago.

This just reaffirmed it.

It was going to be a long, hard day.

* * *

TWELVE HOURS LATER, shift finished, having showered and changed at the hospital, Caroline made it home.

Except, it wasn’t exactly home, was it?

It was the fourth place she’d lived in eighteen months, the place she’d moved into six weeks ago, but it wasn’t home.

How could you call a place home when every time someone knocked on your front door it sent you into a panic?

Caroline stood in her driveway, looking up at her town house’s entrance, duffel bag swung over her shoulder, unable to go any farther. It had been the longest, professionally worst day she’d had in a long time. Her body was exhausted from the physical exertion of moving patients, administering CPR and going to one call after another today because of the fog. Her emotions were exhausted as the death toll had risen each hour.

By all means, she should go inside her house, fall into bed and be asleep before her head hit the pillow. Despite the deaths that couldn’t be avoided, Caroline and the other paramedics had done good work. Had helped make sure the death count hadn’t risen any further than it had. She should rest now. She deserved it.

But she couldn’t seem to force her legs to move any closer to her empty house.

She knew she could call one of the officers over from the Corpus Christi Police Department to come walk through her town house for her. They would understand, and someone would come immediately.

Although not the person she really wanted—really needed—to be here. He wasn’t part of the police force any longer. Zane Wales had hung up his white hat—literally and figuratively—the day they’d found Caroline raped and nearly beaten to death in her own home. The last victim of a serial rapist.

Caroline looked at her town house again, still unable to force herself to walk any closer.

What would Dr. Parker say? Caroline had been uncomfortable talking to a psychiatrist here in Corpus Christi, so her friend Sherry had convinced her to speak—just once—to the Omega Sector psychiatrist over the phone. That “just once” had then turned into talking to Dr. Parker every couple of weeks.

If Caroline called Grace Parker right now—and she had no doubt Grace would take the call—would Grace tell Caroline there was nothing to fear? To just put one foot in front of the other?

No, she would tell Caroline that only Caroline could determine what would be the best thing to do. That pushing herself too far did more damage than it did good.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she looked down to read the text.

How do you look in the mirror knowing your lies?

She rolled her eyes. Another one? This was getting out of hand. Caroline wasn’t big on smartphones in general, so she didn’t do a lot with hers. But she had to see if there was a way to block these texts.

The text was almost enough to distract her from her fear of entering the house. She took a step forward, then stopped, wiping her hand across her face.

She couldn’t go in right now.

The thought frustrated her, but she let it go. It was okay. She would go to the Silver Eagle, a bar in town, and relax for a little while. A lot of the law enforcement and EMT gang hung out there. She could have a drink or a bite to eat or just chat. Get someone to show her how to block the annoying texts. When she was done, maybe she’d be more ready to face the big scary front door.

Once the decision was made, she didn’t second-guess her choice, just jogged back to her truck, throwing her duffel in the passenger seat beside her. The ride to the bar didn’t take long and she knew she’d made the right decision when she pulled into the lot.

Kimmie’s little VW Beetle was parked here and almost every spot was full. Caroline would chat and unwind for an hour or two. She would face her town house when she was ready.

It had been a bad day. This would hopefully make it better.

She grabbed her purse, got out of the truck and made her way inside. The familiar smell of beer and fried food assailed her, as did the country music pouring at a perfect volume from the speakers. She smiled at Kimmie, who waved for Caroline to come join the people at her table.

Maybe being here wouldn’t make her fears back at the town house just disappear, but nothing could make this day worse.

She glanced over at the bar as she walked toward Kimmie and almost stumbled as she found her gaze trapped by the brown eyes of Zane Wales. Compelling her, drawing her in, as always. She forced herself to look away from him.

Her day definitely just got worse.