“You’re probably right,” Larissa agreed. Too late now to wish she’d gotten a doctor’s excuse. Although to be fair, she was glad she hadn’t called in, otherwise she would have left Debra, Julie, and Jessica to handle the ER alone.
For the next three hours, Larissa dealt with a steady stream of patients, and thankfully, only two trauma patients had come in. She’d taken the first one, and Julie had taken the second.
“Tag, you’re it,” Julie had joked as they passed in the hallway like ships in the night.
“I know, I know,” Larissa muttered. They were to take turns with the traumas unless there were two at the same time, and then Debra would come and assist.
Gabe walked into the ER at quarter to eleven, and she realized he was also assigned the night shift. The doctors worked eight-hour shifts instead of twelve, and she hadn’t really thought about Gabe at all until now.
Memories of their heated kiss made her blush, and she kept her gaze focused on the computer screen as he went over to the main census board.
“Okay, Mr. Harris, you’re all set for discharge,” she said, walking into her patient’s room. “Remember you have to follow up with your doctor first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”
“I’ll remember,” the elderly patient said as he stood. Mr. Clarence Harris had congestive heart failure and often forgot to take his medications, which then caused him to become short of breath. In reading his chart, it sounded like his son wanted him to go to a nursing home, but the older man kept refusing.
“All right, take care, then.” She helped him out to a wheelchair. Rick, one of their techs, came over to escort the patient outside.
“Hi, Larissa, I’m surprised to see you here.” Gabe’s voice broke into her thoughts. “How’s your ankle?”
She took a deep breath before turning to face him. “It’s a lot better, thanks. I have the crutches in my car if you want them back.”
“No rush,” he said with a shrug. The way he stood there with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his lab coat, she sensed there was more he wanted to say, but just then, their trauma pagers went off.
“Car versus pedestrian just off Highway Z,” Gabe said out loud as he read his pager. “Victim is a fifty-year-old woman, and her vitals are bad. It doesn’t sound good.”
Her stomach clenched with dread as she read the same message. Annie was fifty years old and lived near Highway Z. Granted, that didn’t mean she was the victim. Still, she sent up a quick prayer for Annie’s safekeeping.
“We should call a chopper, in case she needs to get to Madison,” she suggested as she followed Gabe into the trauma bay. They were only a level-two trauma center, and if this patient was really bad, they’d need to stabilize her and get her transferred as soon as possible.
“Good idea.”
She’d barely made the call when the ambulance bay burst open revealing a bevy of paramedics surrounding a gurney. The moment she saw the victim, she knew it was Annie despite the massive amount of blood.
“Fifty-year-old woman with serious head injury, unconscious at the scene. Vitals reflect hypovolemic shock. We have fluids running wide open.”
“Is there another victim?” Gabe asked.
“No, apparently this was a hit and run.”
Larissa concentrated on taking care of Annie, but deep down, she felt certain Kurt was the one behind the wheel of the car that had hit his wife.
And she suspected he’d intended to kill Annie.
____________
Larissa and Gabe worked on Annie for a solid hour before they deemed her stable enough to transfer. Larissa watched the flight team wheel Annie away and silently prayed.
Dear Lord, please keep Annie safe in Your care.
“Larissa?” Gabe’s low voice broke into her prayer. “Are you all right?”
Suddenly, she wasn’t. She had to get away, just for a few minutes. “Excuse me,” she murmured, slipping away.
She stepped outside, staying beneath the overhang so that she didn’t get drenched by the rain. What had happened to Annie? Had she tried to escape Kurt on foot? Had she been on the road, helpless as he drove directly at her?
Squeezing her eyes shut didn’t help erase the image she could see so clearly in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t Kurt, she tried to tell herself. Maybe Annie had been running from her husband and dashed onto the road, directly in the path of an on-coming car.
She took several deep breaths, trying to calm her ragged nerves. There wasn’t anything she could do to help Annie right now. She and Gabe had done their best, placing a breathing tube and a central venous catheter before pumping several units of blood into her system.
The rest was up to the trauma team in Madison and God.
Feeling calmer, she turned to go back inside, shivering when a blast of cold rain hit her back, soaking through the thin fabric of her scrubs. The trauma bay was empty now and had already been cleaned up, which made her feel guilty. It was almost four in the morning, the most difficult part of the night shift, and she realized she must have stayed outside longer than she intended.
Time to stop worrying about Annie and to focus her attention on the handful of patients who still needed care on her team.
She was about to head through the trauma bay when suddenly the ambulance bay doors opened behind her, letting in a blast of cool air. She jumped around in surprise and nearly tripped over her feet when she saw a disheveled man standing there holding a gun.
“This is all your fault,” he said in a harsh tone, waving the gun in her general direction. “Annie’s gone, and it’s all your fault!”
Kurt Hinkle. Was he intoxicated? He certainly acted like it; his eyes were bloodshot and his gait unsteady. She swallowed hard and tried to edge behind one of the metal bedside tables, not much protection against a bullet. When Kurt came farther in the room, she fought a rising panic.
Where was everyone? Couldn’t they hear Kurt?
“Don’t move!” he threatened. He took a step toward her, and she couldn’t help shrinking backward, dragging the metal bedside table with her.
And this time when he raised the gun and pointed it directly at her, his hand was far too steady.
Chapter Six
