BARTLETT'S RULE by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
Prologue
“He is a pompous ass!”
“I agree. But he is also a big name and he has to be kept happy if we are going to pull this acquisition off successfully.”
Paige sat and fumed. She couldn’t believe that Jeanmarie was asking her to charm and entertain this male chauvinist pig who penned a weekly column on how men were God’s gift to women.
“Why can’t you just buy him dinner and tickets to a Broadway show for him and one of his many adoring hordes?”
“Excuse me?” Jeanmarie grinned mischievously.
“I said hordes.” Paige emphasized the “D” sound. “Seriously, I’m sure that Lon Bartlett would prefer to choose his own company for the evening.”
“Paige that would be fine if we were just sending some executive a simple holiday remembrance but we need to court this publication. And if we want the publisher happy, we make his star writer happy.” She looked down at her phone as if trying to hurry the young woman from her office. “This requires a more personal touch. Take him out, wine and dine him. Do whatever you have to and make him happy.”
Slowly a frown settled on Paige’s face. “I hope you’re not suggesting...”
Jeanmarie laughed suddenly. “Oh gosh no! All I want you to do is schmooze with him a little bit. Make sure his evening is pleasant.” She stopped and stared at the young woman pensively. “You know Paige, a lot of the women in the secretarial pool would die for this chance to spend an evening with a man like Bartlett. This is a great opportunity for you... professionally.”
Paige bit the inside of her cheek to keep from retorting. She spent two years in the secretarial pool waiting for a promotion into the public relations department of this company. Of course though, she thought to herself, the first time she was given an opportunity to prove herself it had to be with someone whose ethics she couldn’t tolerate.
“I just need to know that you can do this Paige.” Jeanmarie had taken a huge personal gamble by pushing Paige’s name when this opening came up.
“I’ll make sure he’s happy.” She nodded even though she was filled with all kinds of self doubts. In reality, Paige wasn’t worried about refusing the man’s possible advances, she was afraid she would be tempted to accept them.
A CHAUNCE OF RICHES by Chelle Cordero Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
PROLOGUE
He was sitting in the large den feigning patience while waiting for his new assignment to show up. The room was expensively and garishly decorated and Ben wondered about the owner who lived here. As far as he was concerned, the room was merely a boastful display of riches that screamed, “I think I’m better than you” to all who entered. Ben knew by the address his employer had given him that he was going to be spending some time in the wealthier section of town, but he still had to curb his cynicism when a butler answered the door. People with money had always bugged him ever since he was just a little kid looking, and looking, at all the rich kids’ toys.
He thumbed his way through the file he was carrying again. Even though Ben had already read about the case multiple times, it gave him something to do while he waited for the widow of the late Julian Chaunce to make an appearance. He was growing more disgusted by the minute and he silently fumed that she was so inconsiderate of another person’s time. But then, as far as Ben was concerned, people with money always thought they were the only thing that mattered anyway.
Chaunce had been a very successful tycoon and was renowned in the publishing world. The trade magazine that had started his company, Chaunce Publications, was still out there and very much alive in the roofing industry. He had sold it years ago and used the tremendous profits to establish new magazines that were all equally successful. Even the security agency Ben worked for had a Chaunce publication delivered to their main office every month. The magazines had called him a self-made man but Ben was convinced that he must have help from somewhere.
Only in his fifties, Chaunce had died suddenly while using a treadmill at a private gym. He left a wife and son and loads of business rivals behind. Now someone was sending threatening notes to the company and the house. Flipping through the folder, Ben frowned and shook his head. The family had tried to keep themselves isolated from the public, probably in an attempt to protect themselves from the same kind of journalists their own publications paid on staff. While there was an occasional headshot of Julian Chaunce, Ben had seen no pictures of the family. He was expecting to see a bland middle-age woman when the door finally opened.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. My son was having a bit of a crisis...”
She stopped short as Ben stood up from his chair and turned to face her.
After seeing him her face drained of color. Other than that, he could only think how young she still looked in her light blue slacks and the tailored striped man’s shirt she was wearing. Her hips were a little wider, a little womanlier, but she was still as lithe as she ever was. His gaze traveled up to her face. It had been years since he had seen those eyes staring back at him.
“Sam?” His lips felt parched as he managed to say her name.
COURAGE OF THE HEART
by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
PROLOGUE
He trailed kisses down her neck while he let his hands explore the recesses of her body. Davie shuddered when he found the warmth between her thighs with his fingers.
"Am I hurting you?" He was concerned. Even though he had made it a habit not to get involved with any of his partners, she had made him pause. There was something special about this girl; there was something about her that had stayed in his mind ever since their first meeting.
"No…oh, Adam, that feels so good." Davie kissed him back as she felt her response spiraling toward the unknown. "Adam…Adam…" Her breath caught.
"What Sweetheart?" It was easy to see how excited she had become and it felt good to know that he had that effect on her.
"Adam…" She felt very timid. "I've never felt like this before."
"I'm glad." He thought of how good it was going to feel when he entered her. "I'm so very glad."
"Adam…teach me…"
He mated their lips and wrestled his tongue with hers. "What do you want me to teach you?" He smiled against her neck.
"Teach me how to…ooh…" She arched her back and pressed herself into his palm. "How to make it good for you."
Oh lord, so sweet, he thought as he took a delicate nub into his mouth. "How could it not be good for me? You are so beautiful…"
Davie felt another shudder run through her. "But, I don't know…Adam, I," She inhaled sharply as she felt his fingers probing inside her. "Adam…I've never…"
For the first time, Adam remained motionless. "Never…what?"
"I've…never been with a man before." She sensed his withdrawal before he actually pulled away.
Adam's brow was furrowed, "What are you saying, Davie?"
The icy chill that Davie felt left her feeling embarrassed to be lying naked in bed with this man. She pulled the bedsheet over her exposed breasts. "I've never been with a man…before"
He sat upright in bed seemingly unaware that he was just as naked as she was. "Are you telling me that you're a virgin?"
Davie sat up clutching the bed linens tightly to her body. "Yes."
"Damnation!" Adam got up from the bed angrily. "You couldn't have told me that before?"
Her eyes welled with tears. "I didn't know we were going to wind up in your bed…"
They had gone out to dinner, again, and a walk in the park. His kisses turned into an invitation back to his apartment. She wasn't naïve, she knew that they might…get closer, but she was so spellbound by him…
"Dammit Davie! I have never taken a virgin before and I certainly don't intend to start with you!"
She watched incredulously as he pulled a pair of jeans on. "I'm sorry…I…" Suddenly Davie felt angry. " If you thought that I thought it was going to be some kind of commitment, you don't need to worry. I got carried away…don't worry, it won't happen again." She stood taking the bedsheet with her to cover herself. "If you don't mind giving me some privacy, I'll get dressed."
Her anger made him feel contrite and he responded in much gentler tones. "I'll take you home as soon as you're ready."
"Don't bother! I'll manage on my own." She stared at the bedroom door pointedly, but he didn't budge. "Fine!" Davie dropped the linen to the floor and picked up her clothing.
Earlier, Adam's body had felt as cold as if he had been blasted with icy water, but as he got another glimpse of her astonishingly beautiful naked body again, he was happy he had donned his pants to hide his reaction.
"I…I'm sorry", he turned his back to her. "I…I just can't be…the first…"
HOSTAGE HEART by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
Prologue
Deanna had a heavy feeling as she headed to work. Maybe it was just those extra bills that had come due. She had been sending a large portion of her paycheck back home to her folks ever since she came to the city. There really wasn’t that much paycheck to go around. She hadn’t been prepared for that assessment the landlord passed on to his tenants for the boiler repair. There just wasn’t any place else where she could cut spending. She already walked to and from work, never went out and spent money with her friends, and she even bought day old breads and produce rather than fresh. She counted her blessings on a daily basis that she had a job and a roof over her head, no matter how meager, but she found herself bordering on frustration every time she balanced her checkbook.
She made up her mind, today she was going to ask Rob if there was any way he could raise her salary a bit. She was willing to take on extra work; she just needed to be able to keep sending money home. The hurricanes had pretty much devastated parts of Louisiana over the last few years. The resulting tornadoes hit surrounding areas and wiped her folks out. There was no way they were able to rebuild their home and the business. She graduated high school out of a makeshift building before the last round of storms hit. Her original plans were to remain at home for a while and maybe find a job down there. Her parents had always figured she could come into the shop with them but there was no more shop to generate money. Deanna decided to go someplace where she could earn some money to send home to them. Deanna made the move to New York City and had been trying to build a life for nearly a year. A trailer sat on the site near where Deanna remembered her favorite tire swing ever since Katrina and Rita ravaged the area. Her parents didn’t complain. There was no way she wanted to let them know how tight things were for her. She let them believe that money was rolling in or they never would have accepted the money she sent back home.
Clutching her purse tightly to her side, Deanna entered the bank. She was supposed to get some smaller bills for the register this morning on her way into work. She didn’t like walking around with so much money, but Rob insisted that he trusted her to take care of things. Deanna wasn’t naïve; she knew that her neighborhood wasn’t exactly the most crime free in the city. She worried about the responsibility of carrying that much money. If she lost it, there was no way at all that she’d be able to replace it. There never had been any temptation to take what didn’t belong to her but she did allow herself a brief fantasy during the night that the wad of bills in her purse was really hers.
She stepped in line with about half a dozen other customers. She stood behind a very broad shouldered man in a suit and she had to stand on tip-toe to try to look around him to see how fast the line wasn’t moving. He turned towards her and smiled as he adjusted his glasses. His brown wavy hair and bronze complexion stood out against his light brown suit. The ends of his hair brushed his collar. Deanna smiled back politely while hoping she wouldn’t encourage him into a conversation. He was very attractive and she kept looking towards him when he wasn’t looking at her. Under other circumstances, she wouldn’t have minded trying to engage him in a conversation. But as it was, she needed to be at work soon and she couldn’t forget the money she was carrying. He kept checking his watch and she wondered if he was late for some important business meeting. Deanna checked her own watch and hoped she could make it to the store in time to open the doors on schedule.
Finally the gentleman in front of her was the next in line. Suddenly there was a shout and a scream. Deanna turned and saw two men –and there a third–with stocking-covered faces waving very large and frightening handguns.
“Everybody get down! And keep your faces to the floor.”
All of the bank’s customers obeyed immediately. When Deanna raised her head to watch what was happening, the man who had been standing in front of her gently pushed her back down.
“Do as they say,” he cautiously whispered to her from his own position on the floor.
She could see the feet of the frightened tellers as they were ushered toward the front of the counter to join the rest of the customers. One poor young man was stopped and dragged back behind the counter to empty the cash drawers into a sack. Deanna heard muffled sobbing around her.
One of the masked robbers was moving through the mass of people on the floor demanding wallets, purses and jewelry. Perhaps foolishly, Deanna decided she wasn’t going to give up the store money without some kind of protest. She also slid her grandmother’s birthstone ruby ring off of her hand and slipped it down her bra front for protection.
“Open your purse.”
“No.” He grabbed for it and she wouldn’t let it go.
“Damn it, it’s not worth dying for.” The man spoke to her again in a harsh whisper. She saw that he was eagerly handing over his own wallet.
The purse was wrested from her hand. “No. Give it back!”
He heard the gentle twang in her voice and was intrigued by it. “Don’t be an idiot!” he grumbled under his breath.
Deanna raised her head and her voice in anger. “Will you just be quiet! Ow!” She felt her head being yanked backwards by the hair and she found herself staring at the stocking face of one of the robbers.
“Stand up!” She was forced to her feet. “You want to fight?” A gun was pressed against her ribcage. “I’ll give you something to fight about.” He started to push her towards one of the office doors.
“Where are you taking me?” Sudden terror seized her. She tried to break away but found his grip on her was too strong. “Please. I’m sorry...” Her imagination ran wild with horrible possibilities. Tears began to sting her cheeks.
“Well gee, I got me Scarlett O’Hara, boys.” The bank robber laughed as he announced his find to his cohorts.
“Let her go.” The man from the front of the line made a meek plea for her safety.
“Mind your frigging business!”
Deanna continued to struggle and finally broke free. The robber lunged for her. Faster than she was aware, the suited customer was standing and pushed her protectively behind him. He blocked the robber and they scuffled. She stepped backward and was terrified to see the robber gain the advantage and hold the gun to the man’s temple. One arm wound its way around the would-be rescuer’s neck and he was quickly subdued.
She stood trembling. “Oh Gosh, I’m sorry...”
No one else wanted to take a risk. Everyone obeyed the robbers’ demands. The young teller finished filling the bag, customer pockets were emptied of valuables. The gun was still being held on the attractive stranger.
“Get back down on the floor!” The robber commanded Deanna to lie down on the floor.
She was shaking with fear and with guilt. “Please let him go.”
“Lie down!”
She hesitated briefly and then did as she was told.
“Now everyone just remain where you are. Count slowly to three-hundred. If I hear any police sirens or see any cop cars, I will kill this man.” The robbers began to back out of the bank with one of them dragging the struggling man with him.
Deanna couldn’t let them just take the man with them, not after he had risked himself to save her. She looked up and saw a large ceramic demonstration piggy bank on the counter; as soon as she saw the robber look away, she jumped to her feet and grabbed it. She ran after the robber holding the hostage and struck him in the back of the head.
The robber stumbled. “Run!” She screamed at the stranger. He stared at her in disbelief. “Run!” Finally he made a hasty retreat to the street.
Before Deanna could get safely back into the bank, she found herself being grabbed again and this time the gun was held to her head.
“You little bitch.” The robber’s voice was raspy. “You’re coming with us instead, then.” He dragged her pleading out the doors and threw her into a van just outside on the street.
Another one of the assailants grabbed her to tie and gag her as the vehicle made a hasty retreat. About a block later, the van made a quick stop and Deanna was surprised to see the suited customer step into the van.
He looked at her in anger. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”
COMMON BOND, TANGLED HEARTS
by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
Prologue
If he was reading her surprised expression right, she was expecting somebody else to be on the other side of the door when she swung it wide open. Cautiously, the willowy blonde pushed the door partly closed before politely inquiring if she could help him.
Justin took his time letting his eyes roam from her short, tousled hair down to her very long legs. He noticed, in typical male fashion, how very shapely those long legs were. She was wearing a loose fitting shirt and cut off jeans, her feet were bare.
Layne felt uncomfortable as the stranger's eyes made their leisurely excursion. She closed the door just a little bit more and then fortified her courage with the thought that her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Addamson, would open her door at the least little yell she might make.
"Is there something you want?" She impatiently asked him and then blushed when his eyes flew up to meet hers with an amused smile.
Oh baby, where have you been all my life? He thought and then smiled politely. "I was looking for…" he carefully checked a piece of paper he held in his hand. "…for Layne Gillette." Justin said 'Lane'.
She refrained from correcting his pronunciation. For the last few years, Layne had explained to people that it was pronounced like Janie except with an L.
"Who's asking?" No matter that he seemed to fit the exact description of tall, dark and handsome that she and her friends always joked about, she was wary of any stranger who came looking for her.
"My name is Justin Ross…" He waited just a moment to see if there was any recognition, he was disappointed. "I was told that Layne Gillette lives here."
"It's Lay-nee…" She was expressionless.
"Hi, I take it you're Lay-nee?" His eyebrows arched as he emphasized the proper pronunciation.
"What do you want?" Layne inconspicuously braced herself against the door so she could slam it forcefully in his face if need be.
"It's… uh… personal. May I come in?" He was mesmerized by her golden eyes.
"No." She was firm.
It took a moment before her refusal totally sunk in. Not many dared to refuse Justin Ross anything. He took a deep breath in and started to patiently explain to her that he needed to speak with her privately. "Look, I just came a long way… and we really need to talk…"
"Hey Mom, is that Rita?" The childlike voice startled the both of them. Layne turned her head to answer when Justin pushed on the door with his hand and knocked her off-balance. The door swung open and Justin got his first look at the little boy who had his mother's golden eyes. Like his own hair, the boy had jet-black curly locks and the contrast was extraordinary.
"Is that him?" Justin pushed his way past Layne and went to the boy. "Are you Dennis?"
The little boy stared at the stranger who had pushed past his mother. Justin didn’t mean to scare him and started to smile.
She was ready to physically tackle him as she shouted at her son. "Go to your room… now!"
"But Mom…" The boy looked between the stranger and his mother.
"And close your door!" She put herself between the stranger and her child. The door to the hallway swung wide open.
"Mommmm…" He did his best to hide his trembling lower lip.
"Now!" Layne stared at him until he obeyed. She stood with her hands against Justin's firm chest to block his advance. She swung her gaze back to Justin, he could have sworn her eyes glowed with rage. "Did Charlie send you?"
He was puzzled by her strange behavior. She seemed overly melodramatic. All he wanted to do was see the boy. "Who's Charlie?" He was annoyed when he heard the click of the boy's bedroom door.
"Just answer the damn question!" Layne had tried to mentally prepare herself for just this kind of confrontation for the last six years, but she never thought her anger or her fear would be so great.
"I don't know… who the hell… Charlie is!" He forcefully brushed her hands off of him. "Look, I came to speak to you because…"
"If Charlie didn't send you, who did?" She cut him off.
Justin tried to control his own frustration. He understood this woman's need to protect the boy from someone she didn't know, but he needed desperately to see the boy. He resented her refusal.
"No one sent me!" He made sure not to yell.
"Then why are you here?" She wouldn't trust him.
"Because… we need to talk." It was harder to say it than he realized.
Layne was prepared to defend her son with her life if she had to. "…about what?"
"You and I need to talk. I'd really like to do this calmly." Justin knew she wasn't going to react very well. She was being too overprotective without knowing the reason for his visit. Once she found out…
"What do you and I have to talk about? There’s nothing for us to talk about." She wasn't letting her guard down for anything. And if he thought he could just come in here and shove her around, he'd soon learn differently.
"Layne…" He tried to reach out for her, she sidestepped him. "We need to talk about… our son." He saw her look of shock. "We need to talk about Dennis."
She slowly turned her head to look at a photograph of Dennis that was sitting on the top of her television set and made the comparison to the man standing in front of her.
Suddenly she screamed at him and began to beat at his chest with her clenched fists. "Get out! Get out of here! Get the hell out of my home!"
WITHIN THE LAW by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
Prologue
He put his hand on the bartender’s wrist as she moved the open bottle towards his glass to refill.
“That’s going to be it for me, I’ve got an early morning.” He removed his hand from her wrist and watched as she pulled her slender hand away, noting the bright red of her nails. He remembered seeing red nails like that before. It was the same red as the cherry that topped the ice cream sundae you took your girl out for on a hot summer night. It was the same red as the Ruby stone that sat in a high school ring.
It had been more than eight years since he had seen that high school ring. She had been wearing it on a gold chain around her neck as she kissed him and told him she’d see him later. He waved as she got into the car with her friends and they drove off. Even though it had been a girls’ outing, he was supposed to drive them that day. One of her friends was planning to move into the dorm at the university in Syracuse later that summer and they all had wanted to help her make purchases for her room. But the restaurant manager had a last minute opening and he was grabbing all the work he could. So he stayed behind. He stayed behind and worked so they would be a little bit closer to being able to afford getting married.
His high school ring was never supposed to replace her engagement ring. He had been planning on buying one. But they wanted to move the wedding date up. They needed the money so buying the diamond was put on hold. Tom was still working the busboy job that had carried him through his senior year of high school. He had applications in at lots of other places for full time jobs, but the summer wasn’t the best time to get hired. His dad had wanted him to go on to college, but college wasn’t in his plans. Not anymore. He proposed to Joyce on their high school graduation day.
Joyce’s parents tried to convince them each to go to the local community college. They kept telling them that a two year engagement wasn’t all that long after all. Tom and Joyce knew they couldn’t wait the two years. So he worked as many hours as he could as a busboy. He managed to pick up a few extra hours pumping gas at the local station also. Joyce babysat and she was going to start selling plastic kitchen containers to all the area housewives. She wasn’t planning to buy anything that day. She was just going along for the ride. She was just going to enjoy the day with her girlfriends. He wanted her to have fun.
He was dead on his feet after the shift at the restaurant and he just wanted to go home and watch TV. His mom called him before he left work. His fifteen-year old cousin had run away again, something she did an average of twice a week since coming to live with them when she was twelve. Tom always knew where to find her and he picked her up on his way home that night. They were sitting in his car while he once again lectured her about her behavior when the police car pulled up. Tom knew that his world was about to end when he saw Joyce’s father get out of the back seat.
FINAL SIN by Chelle Cordero
Available in Print and All Ebook Formats
PROLOGUE
There wasn’t anyone there who didn’t look like they weren’t ready to heave. Julie felt sorry for the vollies, the members of the local volunteer ambulance corps. At least she and Matt were being paid to be there. Then again, no amount of money was worth witnessing the carnage that was lying there before them.
Matt had done the unwelcome task and already pronounced one of the girls dead. It was obvious death, obvious to anyone. Trying her best not to step into the pool of blood or disturb anything else vital to the crime scene investigation that would follow, she finished preparing the one girl who was still alive for transport.
A young man in his late twenties or early thirties, Julie wasn't sure without reading the patient care report, had been burnt when his shirt had caught fire. He was sitting huddled and guarding his severely burnt arm as Matt treated him. He looked scared and in shock at the events around him and wouldn't look at any of the police officers who had responded. Julie assumed that it was his need to deny the trauma.
A broad shouldered officer came through the door and took command of the scene. He seemed hardened to the butchery, almost as if he had seen too many gruesome scenes just like this one. Dressed in a dark blue baseball jacket, open collar knit shirt and khaki pants, he donned a pair of latex gloves he had carried in his pocket and began an almost detached visual inspection of the room. The springy snap of the elastic gloves stretching to fit his large hands was in sharp contrast to his motionless stance. Other officers at the scene deferred to his judgment and took instructions from him as he calmly took in the entire scene. He was concerned with the best way to collect the pertinent evidence to tell the story of what had happened.
As Julie and one of the ambulance crewmembers moved the surviving girl to the gurney, she risked a quick look at the tall officer’s dark eyes and noted that there was a thinly disguised veil of dismay. He had intrigued her with his stony expression and seeming aloofness to the horrors, and his complete focus on the collection of relevant clues.Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, it was a comfort to Julie that the cop was not completely indifferent to this horror or detached from the human cost.
For Matt and Julie, their tour of duty had started out like many others. There had been a call to a minor motor vehicle accident, another for chest pains and one more for a cancer patient who needed to go to the hospital for treatment. Many of the upstate New York communities had contracted with Paramedic services to complement the existing ambulance corps and provide emergency medical response. Whether paid or unpaid, the certified corps always responded with Emergency Medical Technicians who were capable of handling most emergencies. When the Paramedics were dispatched as well, IV drugs and additional hands could often help make critical differences when necessary.
This call had gone out over the radio for a burn victim, so none of the responding police, fire fighters, volunteer ambulance crew nor paramedics were prepared for what they found when they reached this isolated tool shed. From the outside, the grayed wood had seemed serene enough, and the one small window had been caked over with dirt. She didn't think that she would have given the shed a second glance under normal circumstances. But this was far from normal. No one had anticipated the horror scene inside.
Two young women were staked to the dirt floor, both had bled profusely from a variety of wounds. Although one was still alive, barely breathing after severe mutilation and a huge loss of blood, the other had been burned and was only the charred remains of who she once was. Julie wasn’t alone in her prayers that the young woman had died long before the flames had destroyed her body. It didn't look like she had struggled and yet her mouth was open, Julie feared that she might have died screaming. She had still been smoldering when the fire department had arrived and the puddle of water around her had quickly turned into mud.
The young man told them tearfully that he had tried to douse the flames and had been injured when his own shirtsleeves caught fire. If he hadn’t run from the remote little building into the night, none of them might even have been discovered until they had all perished. A passing motorist with a cell phone caught sight of the man running with his clothes on fire and dialed nine-one-one before he got out to help. Apparently a second man, the monster responsible for the imprisonment and torture of these three young people, had already disappeared into the murky darkness.
The police were questioning the male victim while Matt finished cutting away his charred shirtsleeve. He said his name was Andrew and that he and the other man had picked the two girls up in a bar in Westchester. With the two girls in the back seat, Andrew drove into the northern HudsonValley town following the step-by-step directions of the second man. Andrew said he didn’t know the other man’s name, he had used more than one and Andrew didn’t think any of them were real. They snorted some coke, he assumed it was supplied by the unknown assailant, and had sex. That was when the other man had pulled a gun and forced Andrew to tie the two girls to stakes he pounded into the ground. Then Andrew was led outside and locked in the trunk of the car.
He heard muffled screams, he couldn't tell where they were coming from. He was disoriented and felt like he was suffocating in the trunk of that car, but he said it sounded like the screaming went on for hours. He was finally released and led back into the smokehouse by gunpoint to see the horrible results. It was when the perpetrator doused the first girl with gasoline and lit a match that Andrew finally tried to fight. The man warded off the attack and pushed Andrew to the ground.Then he ran. Andrew stayed behind to try to extinguish the flames and save the poor girl.
Julie used her walkie-talkie to call dispatch and request a chopper to bring her patient to the trauma center. The voice on the radio squawked back that there was a multi-car and multi-patient accident on the local highway, the chopper was already enroute to that scene and wasn’t available for their call, nor was there a second rig available to transport the patients separately. Matt, listening on his own talkie, motioned that they could transport the victims together since his patient, although burned, was stable.
They moved their patients to the ambulance with the surviving girl lying motionless on the gurney. Julie started a line to get some much-needed fluids into her patient. She kept her hands steady as she inserted the first of two large bore IV’s into the young girl’s arm and attached the saline drip. Matt was stepping into the truck as she was carefully inserting a tube down the throat to intubate the girl.
The broad shouldered officer followed Matt to the open rear doors of the rig as he transferred Andrew to the bench in the box rig. Matt made sure that his patient was seat belted in place, his arm had been wrapped in wet gauze. The cop watched quietly as Julie adjusted the rate of drips coming out of the hanging saline bag that fed into the young girl's arm. A bottle of sterile water was placed nearby to keep the burn patient's dressing wet enroute to the hospital.
Obviously there were questions to be asked, but the paramedics and EMT’s had important work to do and the officer discreetly tried to stay out of their way. Finally, as the cop saw Julie turn to jot something onto her clipboard, he stepped into the rig. Matt threw an annoyed territorial look in the direction of the officer at his invasion. The cop had to stoop to accommodate his large six-foot-plus frame. Stepping closer to Julie, he quietly asked her to stop in at the local police station upon her return to help fill in some patient information that he needed for his reports. Even though he worded the suggestion politely like a request, it wasn't really a question. He let her know he would be expecting her later.
Piercing tones squelched over the walkie talkies on the paramedics' belts and the ambulance radio. Matt left to answer the other call for help and left Julie and the two EMT’s in the back of the rig with the patients. He was needed elsewhere. Matt brushed past the man just as the officer backed out of the way and stepped down from the step at the big double doors. Julie reached for the grab bar on one of the doors and the policeman helped by swinging the doors closed. He mouthed the word "later" through the glass panes. The ambulance driver waited for Julie's word before he shifted the truck into gear.
The girl, Andrew had called her Holly, didn’t survive the thirty-five-minute trip to the hospital. Her heart stopped. One of the EMT's started CPR while the second hooked up the leads from the monitor. They shared a hopeful moment as they watched the screen show a normal sinus rhythm only to lose their optimism when CPR was briefly stopped to obtain a true reading. At the same time the EMT took pride in the competent CPR, he was disheartened that the young girl's heart could not maintain the rhythm on its own.
Julie injected epinephrine and sodium bicarb twice in an effort to restart her heart, but they couldn’t get her back. She had lost too much blood and had suffered too many traumas. It was almost as if she was surrendering to the peaceful cloak of death. It was a frustrating twenty-five minutes while the crew worked hard to save the young woman’s life.
Andrew sat quietly on the bench as the ambulance crew worked non-stop, his eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
