She had gone back to the ambulance to restock the jump kit, leaving Rye to work on Brad Meyers after they’d pulled him from his crumpled BMW.
Somebody grabbed Rye’s wrist . He whipped around to see a young blonde kneeling down beside and slightly behind him.
“Please help me, my name is Crystal.”
She appeared nervous, constantly looking over her shoulder. Quickly taking in the young woman as not having any obvious injuries, Rye assumed that she might be suffering from shock.
“Are you injured?” Rye said.
“Please.”
“If you could wait until my partner gets here…” Rye never got to finish his sentence. The girl abruptly got up and walked over to a red Dodge Caravan on the shoulder of the road.
A few moments later Claire arrived and finished suturing up the numerous cuts and punctures Brad had received from everything from flying coins and pencils to CDs that acted like flying razors.
“Guy’s a mess, Claire. Lost a lot of blood, no arteries cut but a lot of punctures that need irrigating.” He took a minute to point out some areas of concern. “I’m headed over to that Dodge on the shoulder of the road. I think there’s a girl there that might be in shock. Holler when he’s ready to be moved.”
Chapter Nineteen
The girl was sitting in the opening made by the sliding side door of the Dodge Caravan. Rye noticed that she watched his progress closely as he made his way to where the vehicle was parked on the shoulder.
“Hi. My name’s Rye. You’re Crystal, isn’t that what you said?”
Crystal didn’t say a word.
Rye knew that most non-injury shock cases are unable to understand the carnage that they see at an accident scene. They often feel so helpless that they shut down.
“You know, most of the people involved in this accident came through OK,” Rye said, watching the young woman for a reaction. “As a matter of fact, the driver of that SUV wasn’t hurt at all.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Crystal said.
It was obvious from the tone of her voice that she wasn’t concerned in the least about the accident victim’s injuries, wasn’t in shock and had no apparent injury.
“You asked for help, but you look fine. What do you need?”
Rye had carried his jump kit with him, setting it down next to Crystal. The sliding side door of the van was open enough to allow him a view inside where he spotted the cardboard box filled with videotapes. “Excuse me, can I help you?” a deep male voice said, startling Rye.
“Oh, sorry,” Rye said, turning his back on Crystal to get a look at the source of the booming voice.
“I see that you two have met. I’m Sherman Van Drake,” Hubble said, extending a hand.
“Rye Anderson, pleased to meet you and thanks for your help with the flares. It’s not everyone who comes across an auto accident and cares enough to help out.”
Crystal slipped Hubble an “I told you so” look without Rye seeing.
“Not a problem.” Hubble walked around Rye to join her. “Just glad to have been able to help.” Turning to her he said, “Why don’t you get in the van, we need to be on our way.”
That was it, no small talk about the accident, no curiosity about injuries.
Claire was just finishing up with the driver of the BMW when Rye returned, jump kit in hand.
“Good timing, he’s stable and ready to transport,” she said.
The ride back to headquarters was the usual rehash of what had happened, what they saw, what they had done. The object was to keep details of the accident fresh in mind until they were able to fill out the reports.
“You run in and start your report, it’s my turn to restock and do maintenance.” Rye said.
Claire stayed in the cab until he had backed the ambulance into the garage. “We need to talk,” she said, and then hopped out and headed for the side door that opened into the kitchen.
Rye watched her leave, knowing she was still upset about their demotion. Walking to the front of the aging ambulance, he wondered what was on her mind.
“This should just take a minute, I’ll be right in.”
He popped the hood on the ambulance and began checking fluids. As he stepped onto the front bumper and reached down into the engine compartment for the power brake fluid dipstick, he was reminded how he and Claire had selected their ambulance model with a test drive and that it was Claire who dubbed it the “Beast.” He couldn’t believe it was still in the shop and that they had to drive this back-up.
Checking the belts was the last step in the twelve-point engine check he did after each run. Closing the hood, he walked around to the left side, picked up the heavy-duty 220-volt cord and plugged it in. This would keep all the fluids warm for quick starts without a warm-up period.
The next step was inventory and restocking. Although a mundane task, by nature Rye enjoyed this part of what was referred to as the “after run.” Often he would find notes from Claire; most were reminders to place an order, some were sexy, or suggestions for movies. He wouldn’t find any notes today.
Walking from the attached garage into the kitchen, still drying his hands, he was surprised to see Claire on the phone. He stepped into the bathroom and tossed the towel in the hamper. When he returned, she met him, hand on hip, and a big smile.
“The good news is the Beast is ready and everything was covered by insurance.”
Rye walked to the refrigerator. “How could that be? I haven’t even filed yet.”
Claire’s smile broadened as she took down two fluted glasses from a cupboard. Rye pulled out a pitcher of their celebratory cider and filled the classes. “Phone message, Lance said he called insurance right away. Apparently, a meth fire attended by police and fire places us in a special high-risk category. An insurance clause we’ve been paying into for years.”
Rye fell into a dining room chair and tipped his glass in mock salute.“Great, at least we can ride in style. If we get any calls that is.”
Claire sat down across the table from him. “Olden hasn’t totally jerked our license or we wouldn’t have gotten the last call.”
“You’re probably right about Medford Ambulance being out of the area. But until we find Rusty I think we’re doomed to play second fiddle. Maybe it’s time we help with the investigation,” Rye said.
Chapter Twenty
Rye was up and dressed when he leaned in and whispered to a still sleeping Claire, “C’mon sleeping beauty, we’ve got a 1086 just out the door.”
She rolled out of bed and was in her jump suit—no shower, no makeup—inside of two minutes, barely time to brush her hair. They hadn’t gotten a night call in months, definitely bottom-rung-of-the-ladder stuff. Rye was in the garage unplugging when Claire entered with the jump kit. “If this is another retirement center, I’m going back to bed.”
He watched her slide into the passenger seat and slap her harness into the locked position.
“Hey, 1086. A pedestrian down,” Rye said.
Claire glared at him. “Just a rude awakening, that’s all. Better a night call then another nightmare I guess.”
He reached up and hit the button that would send the big double garage door sliding into its overhead position. Claire glanced down at the clipboard Rye handed her. “You weren’t kidding about just out the door,” she said. “Make a left, go to 2600 Snoop Drive, about six blocks down.”
Rye flicked two toggle switches, setting four red and blue lights whirling. He slammed a big red button on the dashboard that set only one siren into a single squeal.
“Might as well not wake the neighbors,” he said.
The sensor on the dashboard automatically turned on all the normal nighttime running lights.