“Okay, Deputy, look here for a moment,” Cole said. Taking up a forceps, he used it to grasp the slug and pull it out.
That’s when things headed south.
The incision filled with blood and overflowed onto the surgical drape. Dropping the bullet and forceps into the pan that Tess held ready, Cole put his finger down into the hole, trying to staunch the flow that he realized now had been plugged somewhat by the leaden slug.
“Sponges and a clamp. Now.”
Tess was already moving. She peeled open a sterile packet of cotton gauze, holding it close for him to reach. Cole grabbed the cotton and started cleaning out the wound, but the blood was flowing faster than he could blot it. Tess kept opening packages while he tried to spot the bleeder at the bottom of the incision. It was like trying to see down into the bottom of a murky well.
Using the index fingers of both hands, Cole spread the tissue enough to give him some space to work. Alternately blotting out blood and peering into the hole, he spied the end of the bleeding vessel. Grabbing up the clamp, he clipped it on and was relieved to see that it made a huge difference in the amount of blood flow.
Tess had turned to monitoring Belle’s pulse. “Her heart stopped!”
Cole could hear the panic in her voice. With the sudden drop in Belle’s blood volume, he knew the anesthesia had become too concentrated. “Stop the gas, leave the oxygen on, and start bagging her. I think it’ll start again once the gas dissipates.” Cole worked to tie off the bleeding vessel. “Do you have a pulse yet?”
Using the stethoscope directly over Belle’s heart, Tess concentrated on listening. “Yes! Yes, her heart’s beating again.”
“Keep bagging and increase the fluid drip. I’ve gotta get this incision closed ASAP so we don’t have to put her under again. Are you still with us, Deputy?”
“Yeah, still here.” Johnson’s head was down again, and he appeared to have no intention of looking back up.
“Good man.”
It took a few minutes for Cole to tie off some minor vessels that were bleeding. Then he worked to repair the internal damage left by the bullet and his surgical incision. Finally, he was able to suture the skin, setting a line of neat stitches across Belle’s thigh.
During the process, Belle started breathing on her own. Tess was able stop monitoring her long enough to put the lead bullet into a baggie and send Deputy Johnson proudly on his way.
By the time they could move Belle back to a cage to recover, her heart rate and breathing were stable. Now all they needed was a little time to see if they would be able to save the leg.
As Tess gathered her things to leave, Cole decided to broach the subject of having the girls at the clinic while they worked. “I need a place for the kids this next week. Would it bother you if they stayed here?”
“Not at all. They’re old enough to put to work. Angie could learn to run the computer, and Sophie will love to clean things.”
Cole kind of liked the idea of his daughters having jobs. It would be good for them. “Thanks, Tess. I appreciate it.”
Tess left, and Cole decided it was time to go tell the kids about Grace. He might as well get it over with.
At the house, he found Sophie and Jessie in the kitchen cooking something on the stove.
“Daddy!” Sophie ran across the room and thudded into his legs.
“Hey, squirt,” he said. “What ya doin’?”
“We’re making soup for lunch.” She skipped across the room to rejoin her aunt. “I’m stirring it.”
“Sounds good,” he said.
Jessie turned and gave him a tired—or was it sad?—smile. “I thought I’d make something that Angie might be able to eat. It’s just a light broth with a few vegetables. Thought I’d stay away from chicken.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Where is Angie?”
Sophie piped up. “She’s in the living room watching a movie.”
“Oh, maybe I’d better leave her be then.”
“No,” Jessie said, “I think you’d better have that talk while you can.”
“What talk?” Sophie said, ever alert to any disciplinary action her sister might need.
Cole looked at her. “You might as well come in and join us. I only want to have to do this once.”
Jessie adjusted the flame under the soup. “Come on, Sophie, we’ll all go.”
He led the way, Sophie hurrying to keep up. Angela, pale and drawn, looking even thinner than usual, reclined on the couch, a chocolate-colored fleece throw pulled up to her chin.
“Hi, Angel, how are you feeling?”
“Not too bad.”
“Can we stop the movie for a minute?”
Angela hit the pause button on the remote.
Cole noticed a glass of bubbly liquid on the end table beside her. “Is that ginger ale?”
“Yeah, I can drink it now.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Here, can you scootch up your legs so I can sit beside you?”
“I wanna sit beside you, too, Daddy,” Sophie said in a plaintive tone.
“You can sit right here, on my other side,” he said.
Cole found himself wedged between his two daughters, while Jessie sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. He reached out a hand, and Angela slipped her cold fingers into it. He felt a slight tremor in them before she clasped his hand. He rubbed her fingers, trying to warm them.
“What is it, Dad? What’s wrong?” Angela asked.
“How do you know something’s wrong?”
“You look sadder than usual. Have you heard from Mom?”
He shook his head. He felt adrift in unfamiliar waters. At the clinic, he was used to being in charge, and he could handle emergencies, sickness, or even death. But this, this was something for which he felt ill-prepared. There was only one way he knew how to do things, and that was to tackle them head on.
“Angela.” He paused and looked at his youngest, too. “Angela and Sophie . . . I hate so much to have to tell you this, but I have some very bad news.”
Tears sprang to Sophie’s eyes. He could feel her become tense as a taut wire fence beside him. “Is it Mom?”
“No, honey, this isn’t about your mom. It’s about Grace. Grace Hartman. I don’t know any way to cushion this, so I just have to say it. I found out last night.”
“What, Dad?” Angela’s voice sounded thin and pinched.
“Grace is dead.”
For a moment, everything in the room went still. He met Jessie’s eyes, and she gave him a slight nod of encouragement.
Sophie began to sob. Cole put his arm around her and hugged her close.
Angela sat immobile; a shattered expression gradually took over her face. Her voice quivered. “Did she wreck her car?”
There was nothing else to do but just get through it. “No, honey. Someone killed her.”
Angie gasped and put her free hand up to her throat, fingers fluttering. Cole had to stop himself from squeezing the one hand he held even harder. It felt fragile and cold inside his, and he didn’t want to crush it.
“Someone killed her?” Sophie said between sobs. “A bad person?”
“Yeah, sweetheart, I think it’s safe to say a bad person did it.”
Cole had been watching Angela, and he saw her slowly start to crumble. Her lips trembled, and her eyes filled, spilling over. He felt himself melt at that moment, too, and the sorrow he’d kept in check for so many hours finally took over. Gathering his daughters into his arms, he allowed his own tears to flow.
Soon Jessie joined them on the sofa, spreading her arms wide, trying to hold and comfort them while all four of them wept.