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“Alanna, you’re up for the ambo patient slotted for room three.”
Alanna Finnegan nodded to indicate she’d heard the charge nurse’s directive as she finished typing her discharge note. No surprise that she’d discharged one patient barely two minutes ago and the next one was already on the way. Beds in the emergency department rarely grew cold between patients. October wasn’t as busy as summertime, but the nice weather had lingered, keeping the influx of patients steady.
In truth, she’d rather be busy during her long twelve-hour shifts.
One thing was for sure, this job was never boring. Her feet ached from the miles she put on every shift, but she didn’t mind. After finishing at the computer, she stood and glanced up at the census board. Now that the hospital’s medical records were computerized, names of their incoming patients automatically populated the screen thanks to the dispatcher working in the paramedic base. Her new admission was a twenty-three-year-old man named Ivan Garcia. And no surprise, his presenting problem was a gunshot wound to the thigh.
Trinity Medical Center was the only level one trauma center in the city of Milwaukee. The nursing staff with their gallows humor described those patients with gunshot or knife wounds as injuries as kids playing in the knife and gun club. Not that the injuries were always their fault, innocent people could be victims of crimes. But she had enough experience to know the innocent victims were in the less than 15 percent category. The other 85 percent were generally not so innocent and therefore were accompanied by Milwaukee police officers when they were injured during the commission of a crime.
Ivan’s injury must not be serious enough to require a trip to the trauma bay. Her patient would be there at any moment, so she peeked inside to make sure the room had been cleaned. Karin Graves, their housekeeper, was good about being on top of things. Thankfully, she’d been in and out in record time, and the room sparkled. Since she wasn’t sure if the patient’s bullet would need to be removed, she set up a surgical tray on a table in the corner near the doorway, just in case. She deftly unwrapped the tray, while leaving the clear plastic covering to keep the instruments sterile while being readily accessible.
Thirty seconds later, the ambulance bay doors burst open. Two EMTs wheeled a gurney through the opening. No police officer was in attendance, indicating the patient was not in custody. Which was probably a good thing. It didn’t really matter to her one way or the other, she treated her patients equally regardless of their guilt or innocence.
“Twenty-three-year-old male suffering a gunshot wound to the right thigh. His vitals are stable,” the female paramedic said as they pushed the gurney into the room. “Bullet is still embedded in the thigh muscle; we’ve packed the wound with gauze.”
“Thanks.” Together, they moved Ivan Garcia from the ambulance gurney to the bed
using the sheet beneath him to slide him over. The EMTs wheeled the cart out of the room, drawing the privacy curtain closed behind them. Their job of transporting the patient was over.
This young man was her patient now. She smiled down at him as she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck. Even though there were no police officers in attendance, she couldn’t help noticing the three red teardrops tattooed down his face from the corner of his right eye. She knew gangs used that tattoo to boast about killing people, one teardrop for each person. Three in Ivan’s case. Averting her gaze, she reminded herself that this guy was twenty-three. He could have done the deed years ago; she’d seen similar tattoos on fifteen-year-old kids. “Ivan, my name is Alanna. I’ll be your nurse for the next two hours.” Her shift officially ended at seven thirty in the evening, but she often had to stay later to help keep the patients flowing in and out of the department. “How are you feeling?”
“How do you think?” Ivan scowled. “I’ve been shot.”
She nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “I know. How is your thigh pain?”
“Bad.” He pinned her with a narrow gaze. “Ten out of ten.” The way he’d used the pain score of ten out of ten indicated he was no stranger to being in the hospital. Had he been admitted with other injuries? Maybe those red teardrops had been inked on his skin more recently than she’d thought. A twinge of unease niggled at the back of her neck. She did her best to ignore it.
“Okay, I’ll ask the doctor if he’ll order you some pain medication. First, though, I need to listen to your heart and lungs and take a set of vital signs.” His heartbeat was strong, his lungs clear. She took his blood pressure, noting the higher reading likely due to his pain, then removed the cuff from his arm. “We need to have you connected to our heart monitor, okay?”
She turned to grab the EKG patches from the package behind her, intending to place them on his chest. Before she could do anything, her patient abruptly rolled off the gurney and grabbed her from behind. He brought his arm across her neck, pressing tightly against her throat in a vicelike grip.
She was so surprised by his actions she didn’t have time to scream. With his arm choking her, breathing was impossible too.
Help, she silently shouted.
“You’re going to get me outta here before the cops show up, understand?” The harsh voice in her ear was punctuated by a tightening of his arm around her neck. This close, he reeked of sweat and alcohol. Anxious
to appease him, she nodded.
Ivan dragged her several feet across the room before she could get her bearings. No! This couldn’t be happening! Remembering his thigh wound, she tried to wiggle into a better position to use his injury to escape.
She hadn’t grown up with six older brothers without learning some self-defense.
Ivan stopped near the curtain as if understanding there would be plenty of other staff members outside the room. She used his momentary pause to her advantage, lifting her right leg and kicking backward at his injured thigh and knee with all her strength. Her rubber-soled shoes wouldn’t normally do much damage, but somehow she managed to hit her target.
Ivan sucked in a harsh breath at the pain but didn’t scream or cry out. His grip around her neck tightened painfully, choking her. He reached out toward the surgical tray and poked his fingers through the plastic to grab the scalpel. “Do that again and I’ll slice your throat, understand?” His voice was low and harsh in her ear. She could smell his foul breath and tried not to gag. “I’m not going back to jail!”
Alanna froze when the sharp edge of the blade cut into the skin beneath her chin. Warm blood trickled down her neck, running over his arm still locked around her throat.
Why had she set up the surgical tray? She inwardly railed at herself for being so foolish, even though it was too late for regrets now.
“We’re walking out of here.” He twisted his body to use his shoulder to shove the privacy curtain aside. He dragged her through the opening, and at first, no one paid them any attention.
People came in and out of rooms all the time. She tried to call out but could only make a croaking sound.
One of her nurse colleagues, Dana Callahan, glanced over. Her eyes widened when she saw the arm across Alanna’s throat and the blood staining her neck. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Stay back or I’ll kill her!” Ivan’s voice echoed through the area. The ED was set up in teams of rooms, and they were in the orange team, which was closest to the red team formerly known as the trauma bay.
Dana’s, Dr. Willis’s
and even the housekeeper Karin’s expressions all reflected surprise and horror. They simply stood there, gaping in shock as Ivan held the blade to her throat. She couldn’t really blame them. She doubted she’d have reacted much differently.
Alanna wanted to kick at Ivan’s injured leg again but feared the blade of the scalpel was too close to her jugular vein, or worse, her carotid artery. One deep swipe and she could easily bleed out before anyone could save her.
Please, Lord Jesus, keep us all safe!
A sense of calmness washed over her. Ivan wanted her for a reason. His plan was to escape being questioned by the police. All gunshot and knife wounds were an automatic report to the cops. By playing along, she could buy time.
There was a Milwaukee County sheriff’s deputy stationed in the waiting room of the emergency department to help deal with family members of patients who were in police custody. An unfortunately common occurrence. Someone would call him or her in to help.
Her patient continued dragging her step by step toward the ambulance bay doors. Her ID badge was dislodged from her scrubs and dropped to the floor, the hard plastic making a soft noise as it hit the linoleum and skated across the floor.
“Hey, you need to let Alanna go.” Doctor Willis, the attending physician assigned to the orange team, stepped forward, concern etched in his features. “You want to leave without receiving medical care and treatment? That’s fine with us. But kidnapping a staff member is going to bring all kinds of trouble raining down on you.”
“Stay back!” Ivan shouted, dragging her closer to the ambulance bay doors. “I swear I’ll kill her!”
Alanna wanted to believe it was an empty threat, but the sharp edge of the blade convinced her otherwise. The three red teardrops inked on his face flashed in her memory. He’d killed before, and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. She tried to swallow past the forearm pressed against her throat. Her inability to breathe normally was making her dizzy.
How long before she passed out?
Not long.
Her foot tangled with the legs of a chair as Ivan continued dragging her past the row of rooms. She gripped his arm to keep herself from falling. The blade dug deeper into her neck. Tears pricked her eyes as she struggled to stay upright and focused. Surely, he’d let her go once they were outside.
And if he didn’t?
He could
take her with him, or simply kill her.
Her gaze stumbled across a tall dark-haired man wearing a police uniform moving between the staff members. She recognized him as MPD Officer Reed Carmichael. He worked out of the Fifth Precinct and often accompanied patients to the emergency department. Had, in fact, done that very thing last week during their respective shifts.
His blue eyes were locked on hers as he edged closer, using the staff as camouflage. His gaze silently promised he was there to rescue her.
Looking into Reed’s calm eyes made her relax. She’d gotten to know him over the busy summer months and trusted him almost as much as she did her cop brothers.
“Stop where you are, pig!” Ivan shouted. “One step closer and I’ll slice her throat.”
Reed stopped halfway behind Dr. Willis. Alanna had hoped Ivan wouldn’t notice Reed’s approach, but the guy’s survival instincts had been honed to a sharp edge, much like the scalpel at her neck.
Ivan pulled her closer to the ambulance bay doors, leaving her little choice but to go along with him. She’d hoped he would let her go once they were outside, but she wasn’t sure that was Ivan’s intent at all.
The ambulance doors opened, and two more men stepped through the doorway. She couldn’t see them clearly but heard Ivan’s grunt as if he’d expected to have assistance.
No! They were going to kidnap her!
A gunshot rang out. The arm around her throat loosened. She gasped for breath, dropping to the floor as Ivan’s body fell backward. Blood ran freely down her neck from where the scalpel blade had sliced along her skin.
“Alanna!” Her name was a strangled sound as Reed ran toward her. She stared up at him for a second before everything went dark.
***
“WHERE’S THE DOC?” Reed Carmichael cradled Alanna Finnegan in his arms on the floor, glancing frantically toward the hospital staff. “Her throat has been cut!”
A physician and a dark-haired nurse named Dana came running over. The doc’s expression turned grim. “I don’t think he hit the artery, but we need to get her into room three.”
Knowing the general layout of the emergency department, Reed didn’t hesitate to scoop Alanna into his arms. He strode to room three. The bed was messy, making him realize this must have been the room the perp had been in. It wasn’t ideal, but this was likely the only empty room they had. He gently set her on the bed, then forced himself to step back, giving Dana and the doc room to work.
Reed’s heart thumped against his ribs as the medical team tended to Alanna. She was in good hands, so he turned away to head back over to where Ivan Garcia, a.k.a. Ice, was lying dead on the hospital floor. There was blood everywhere, Alanna’s and Ivan’s. Mostly Ivan’s. He glanced toward the ambulance doors, but the two men who’d come through earlier were gone now. As much as he wanted to track them down, he couldn’t leave the scene of an officer-involved shooting.
Especially when he was the officer involved.
Taking out a perp was bad enough, but doing so in the middle of a hospital emergency department was worse. He could already hear the MPD upper brass and hospital administrators screaming about this.
And he understood this never should have happened. Where in the world was Wesley Durango? His rookie partner was supposed to accompany Ice to the hospital. The shooting scene where two rival gangs had fought had been chaotic, but he’d thought the rookie had jumped up into the ambulance with their wounded perp, the way he’d told him to.
Yet if he had, there was no sign of Durango now.
Reed half expected the rookie to have gone to find a cup of coffee or something as equally ridiculous. Yet that didn’t change the fact that Durango should have had Ivan Garcia cuffed to the bed. And the rookie should have never left Garcia’s side.
Sheriff’s Deputy Mike Callahan came rushing in from the waiting room, accompanied by a woman in a suit, clearly someone from the C suite. “What happened?” Mike asked.
Reed glanced at the hospital administrator. Her name badge identified her as Kathy Tusk, Vice President of Hospital Operations.
This was the beginning of his interrogation, one that would start with the hospital administrators and continue through the internal affairs division of the Milwaukee Police Department. He gestured toward the dead man. “This is Ivan Garcia, a.k.a. Ice. He’s a member of the Blood Kings, a well-known drug-and-gun-running gang.”
“You shot him in the hospital?” Tusk demanded harshly. “What were you thinking?”
“He held your nurse hostage with a scalpel blade to her neck. I had to stop him before he dragged her from the building.” He glanced at Mike Callahan. “There were two other gang members who came in through the ambulance doors, so I feared the worst. But they left when I took out Garcia. We need all the video surveillance of the incident so we can get their pictures out to every cop on the street.”
“You’ll need a warrant to get the video,” Tusk snapped.
Reed tamped down his anger. This woman acted as if she was more concerned about his shooting of a gang member than she was about her own
member. “I’m sure you’ll want to check in on Alanna Finnegan. She’s being treated for her neck wound in room 3.”
Tusk paled and spun away to see for herself. Mike sent him a sympathetic glance. “Have you called this in?”
“Not yet.” He lifted his hand to his radio to make the call. The minute he said the words officer-involved shooting, he’d heard the dispatcher suck in a harsh breath and knew there would be dozens of cops on campus within minutes. He released the radio and sighed. “The worst part is that I’ll be placed on administrative leave.”
“I know. That’s a bummer.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Good shooting, though. I’m glad you saved my cousin’s life.”
“Your cousin?” He glanced back toward Alanna’s room. “I didn’t realize you were related.”
“We only found out earlier this year. And technically, we’re second cousins.” Mike’s expression turned serious. “That was a close call. How did Ice get a weapon in the first place?”
“It must have been in the room. I’m sure there are plenty of scalpels and other sharp objects here that can be turned against the staff.” Reed rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of his actions bearing down on him. The upper brass would watch whatever video was available and interview witnesses, dissecting everything he’d done or hadn’t done. It was difficult to make administrators understand how fast a situation could unravel. ...
