Abby, wide-eyed and red-faced, appeared in the doorway. She looked at each of them before settling on Zoe. “Are we ready to go get another load?”
Zoe chewed quickly and swallowed. “Sure.” She deposited her napkin on her plate and met Pete’s icy blue eyes.
He gave a nod.
Zoe grabbed her coat and followed Abby outside, not catching up to her until she climbed into the pickup. Zoe started the old truck but didn’t shift it into gear. Instead, she faced her passenger. “You okay?”
“No.” Abby’s chin quivered, betraying her tough-girl façade.
Zoe reached over and placed a sympathetic hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Men can be such—” She almost said asses but realized she’d be repeating Abby’s word choice, which might reveal she’d been listening. “Jerks,” Zoe said instead.
Abby opened her mouth. Closed it. And looked at Zoe with tears in her eyes. “I hate to bail on you, but if you don’t mind, when we get back to Pete’s, I think I’ll take my car and go home.”
Zoe faced forward, brought her hand to the shifter, and dropped the old Chevy into gear. “You’re not bailing on us. You got roped into helping when all you wanted to do was ask about John Doe.”
Abby turned her face away. “Seems like I’ve been wasting my time on a lot of things lately.”
Twenty-Five
After moving all day Saturday, Zoe collapsed into bed for her first night in her new bedroom. Her phone rang. A traffic fatality on the far side of the county. The scene was horrendous. Three dead, two more Life Flighted to one of the Pittsburgh trauma centers. She and Doc spent Sunday morning in autopsy. Arriving home by lunch, she found her mother unpacking the boxes marked “Kitchen” and Pete looking homicidal. Zoe sent him back to his old house to collect the woodworking tools he’d left behind and braced for a day with her mother.
Kimberly planted her fists on her hips. “You shouldn’t put the plates in that cabinet. They should go over there.” She pointed.
Zoe offered up a prayer for patience. “I can rearrange things later.” She added a short stack of bowls next to the plates, then leaned down to remove another newspaper-wrapped bundle from the box only to find Merlin had hopped in. She shooed the tabby from his nest and received a green-eyed glare. “Today, I just want to get some of the boxes emptied and out of this house before the cats claim them all.”
“You’re only making more work for yourself. Better to do it the right way the first time.” The “right” way being Kimberly’s way. She turned her attention away from Zoe’s kitchen design and picked up a legal pad and pen she’d set on the table. “Have you confirmed the cake?”
“Yep.”
She made a mark on the pad. “The church and minister?”
“Yep.”
Kimberly raised her eyes from the list. “For Friday night’s rehearsal too?”
“Everything has been confirmed, Mom.”
“What about the rehearsal dinner? Your fiancé is supposed to pay for that, you know.”
“I know. He knows. It’s just a small informal get-together at Walden’s.”
Kimberly wrinkled her nose. “Small,” she muttered. “Informal. You should be having a much larger affair. Two attendants. That’s pitiful.”
“Patsy and Rose are my best friends. And Pete and I don’t want a huge wedding.” Zoe closed her eyes and her mouth. She and Kimberly’d had this conversation at least a dozen times over the last few months. Rehashing the choices she and Pete had made would do nothing to sway Kimberly to their side.
“I know you want to pay for this yourself, but if money’s an issue, Tom and I will be happy to cover the bills. It’s traditional for the parents of the bride to—”
“You’re paying for the reception in St. Pete. That’s plenty.” Zoe faced her mother with a forced and exaggerated smile. “Do you want to do me a huge favor?”
“What?” Kimberly asked, her tone suspicious.
“You have such a great sense of style. Would you mind unpacking the living room stuff and deciding where it should go?”
The compliment did the trick. Kimberly brightened. “I’d be delighted.” She set the pad and pen down and headed to the other room, calling over her shoulder, “And the silverware goes in the other drawer.”
Zoe clenched her fists. Forced them to relax. And kicked the empty box across the floor toward the door. Just as someone knocked.
She flinched.
Abby waved to her through the uncurtained window.
“I didn’t hear you pull up,” Zoe said as she let Abby in.
“Sorry. I should’ve called first.”
“Don’t be silly.” Zoe didn’t mention she was grateful to no longer be alone with her mother. “Can I get you something? We have lots of leftovers from yesterday.”
Abby held up a clear plastic takeout cup containing what looked like iced tea. “No thanks. I had lunch at the new Brunswick Burger in Phillipsburg. They’re having a big grand opening celebration. I swear everyone within a fifty-mile radius was there.” She looked around. “Is the Chief home?”
“He’s back at the house in Dillard packing up his tools.”
“Oh. I’ll talk to him later then.” Abby lowered her gaze and took a long draw on the straw in her beverage. “I want to apologize to both of you for bugging out yesterday.”
“I—we—appreciated whatever time you could spare.”
“I could help out today if you need a hand.” A thud from the other room drew Abby’s attention. She lowered her voice. “Seth isn’t here, is he?”
“No. That’s my mother. And I’d love to have your help.”
“Good.” Abby placed the cup on the kitchen table they’d brought from Pete’s house last evening and took off her winter jacket, slinging it over one of the matching chairs. “Where do I start?”
Zoe gestured at the boxes. “Pick one that’s marked ‘kitchen’ and start unpacking.”
Kimberly appeared in the doorway, a powder horn with a woven strap in one hand and a mounted pair of deer antlers in the other. “What exactly do you expect me to do with these?”
“Those are Pete’s.”
“I assumed as much.” She studied the items with a disgusted sneer. “Where are the trash bags?”
“You can’t throw out Pete’s things.”
“Of course I can. This might be suitable for a bachelor pad or a man cave, but this is your home.”
Zoe wasn’t about to admit she wasn’t crazy about the antlers either. “It’s our home. Mine and Pete’s.”
“I refuse to decorate this house to look like a hunting lodge,” Kimberly said with a dark scowl. “He isn’t going to show up at the wedding dressed in camo, is he?”
“Just leave his stuff in the boxes. He can decide where to put it when he gets home.”
Still glowering, Kimberly returned to the living room while muttering, “I’ll put it in a box marked trash.”
“I heard that,” Zoe called after her. She glanced at Abby, expecting to see the young woman containing a laugh or rolling her eyes. What she didn’t expect was to find Abby quietly sobbing. “What’s wrong?”
Abby shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. It’s just…seeing you and Pete getting ready for your wedding…I realized it’s never gonna happen for me.”
Zoe set down the glass baking dish she’d been holding and crossed to Abby, taking her by the shoulders. “What do you mean? Of course it will.”
Abby shook her head again. “Not with Seth,” she said, her words thick. “I hate to admit it, but I was really in love with him.”
Zoe felt her sway and tightened her grasp. “You better sit down.” She guided Abby into one of the chairs. “You’re shaking.”
Abby held both trembling hands in front of her. “I guess I am.” She met Zoe’s gaze. �
��It’s cold in here.”
The thermostat was set at seventy-five to accommodate Kimberly’s thin Floridian blood. Zoe was roasting. She touched Abby’s forehead. Clammy. “Do you feel all right?”
“Not really.” She took another long sip of her iced tea. “I think I might be coming down with something. I should go home.”
“I could take you. I’m not sure you should drive right now.”
“I’m okay. Just really tired.” Abby’s voice sounded slurred. “And hungry. Do you have anything to eat?”
“I told you—” Zoe cut herself off from reminding Abby about the leftovers. Something wasn’t right. And something else deeper and darker pounded at the door of Zoe’s subconscious. Before she could pin it down, Zoe watched Abby’s eyes roll back in her head. She went slack and pitched forward, knocking over the plastic glass.
Zoe caught her before she hit the floor and eased her the rest of the way down.
“Mom!” she shouted.
Kimberly returned to the doorway and gasped. “Good lord.”
“Mom,” Zoe repeated as she fingered Abby’s throat, thankful that she felt a pulse. “Call 911 and get an ambulance out here.”
Kimberly darted back into the living room.
Zoe patted Abby’s cheek, calling her name. No response. She reached for Abby’s jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow for under her head before checking her pulse again, this time keeping an eye on her watch’s sweep second hand. Too fast. Too weak.
Too reminiscent of another patient less than a week ago. And that hadn’t ended well.
Kimberly returned, her phone pressed to her ear. “What’s the address here?”
Zoe gave the number and road name to her, and Kimberly relayed the information to the EOC operator.
Abby twitched once. Twice. Then started flailing.
“Dear God,” Kimberly said. “What’s going on?”
Zoe shoved the table away, clear of Abby’s thrashing. “Tell them she’s having a seizure.” Zoe looked at her mother, who appeared frozen, her mouth agape. “Tell them.”
Kimberly gave a quick nod and turned away, obeying for once.
Zoe checked the time. Waiting out a seizure was the hardest part. One of the reasons she loved being a paramedic was jumping into the fray. Acting rather than standing by feeling helpless.
Which was all she could do right now. Wait. Watch. And do nothing until the seizure passed. Seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes. Like hours.
Kimberly loomed over her. “Shouldn’t you put something in her mouth? So she doesn’t swallow her tongue?”
“No, Mom. Swallowing your own tongue is physically impossible.”
Kimberly lowered to her knees. “What can I do to help?”
“My first aid bag is out in my truck, behind the seat. Could you bring it in to me?”
“Of course, dear.”
Dear?
Kimberly stood, grabbed her winter-white fur coat, and charged outside.
Zoe rearranged Abby’s folded jacket to keep her head from hitting the floor. A full minute passed. “It’s okay,” she said, keeping her voice soft and comforting. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine.” She hoped that last part was true.
The door flung open, and Kimberly scurried in, clutching Zoe’s jump kit. “Where do you want this?”
Zoe patted the floor next to her, and Kimberly set the bag down.
“What else can I do?”
Zoe imagined her mother as a first responder, eager to help.
As long as she never broke a nail.
“There’s nothing we can do right now. Just keep her from hurting herself until the seizure passes.” Zoe checked her watch again. “Which I hope will be soon.” She spotted Jade eyeing them from the dining room doorway. “There is one thing you can do,” Zoe told her mother. “Round up the cats and lock them in the bedroom. They’re not used to this house. If they slip out when the paramedics arrive, I’ll never find them again.”
Kimberly gave a quick nod and scooped up Jade, calling, “Here kitty, kitty,” to Merlin.
As the three-minute mark approached, the thrashing slowed. And stopped. “It’s okay,” Zoe again whispered. She reached across Abby and logrolled her onto her side. “You’re gonna be all right.”
A check of her pulse revealed it was still too fast. Her deathly pale skin remained clammy. And she remained unresponsive to Zoe’s words and touch.
By the time the ambulance arrived, Abby’s condition had deteriorated. While she hadn’t seized again, her heart rate soared, her respirations grew even more shallow, and her blood pressure was dropping.
The sight of Zoe’s former partner, Earl, and his new partner—her old crew chief, Tony—allowed her to breathe a little easier. Earl and Tony were the best paramedics she’d ever worked with. She stepped clear, allowing them to take over, armed with a heart monitor and medications to stabilize the patient.
Earl attached the tubing from a nonrebreather oxygen mask to the green portable tank. “Tell us what’s going on.”
Zoe reported Abby’s confusion, hunger, chills, and clammy skin prior to her collapse and seizure.
Tony opened Abby’s shirt and attached the heart monitor pads to her chest. Meeting Zoe’s gaze, he asked, “Is she diabetic?”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. I don’t think so.”
“Could be the flu,” Earl offered doubtfully.
Zoe looked around for her mother. Kimberly had retreated to a corner of the kitchen after letting the ambulance crew in. She stood wide-eyed, her fingers pressed to her mouth. “Where’s my phone?”
Kimberly blinked. “I’ll get it.” She disappeared into the living room, returning a few moments later, and handed the device to Zoe.
“I’m calling Pete. He’ll know her medical history.”
“Good,” Earl said, positioning the oxygen mask over Abby’s mouth and nose.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. “Come on,” Zoe whispered. “Pick up.”
“Hey,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“Is Abby Baronick a diabetic?”
There was a pause. “What? No. Why?”
Zoe glanced at the heart monitor and the irregular rhythm blipping across the screen. “Because she collapsed on our kitchen floor. Meet us at Brunswick Hospital.”
“I’m on my way.”
“And Pete?”
“Yeah?”
“Call Wayne. And Seth.”
Pete charged into the ER, showing his badge to the security guard who waved him through. He was about to ask the receptionist to buzz him into the treatment area when he spotted Zoe and Baronick approaching from the waiting room. The whole situation felt surreal. Seeing Zoe out here rather than working on the patient didn’t help. Nor did the terror in the detective’s eyes. “What’s going on?”
“They’re working on her.” Zoe must have read his mind. “I’m not on the ambulance staff anymore, so they ran me out. I guess having the coroner hanging around makes them nervous.”
“What happened?” Pete asked. Zoe hadn’t elaborated on the phone. “You said Abby collapsed?”
Zoe gave a big helpless shrug and told him about the seizure and the irregular vitals. Pete glanced at Baronick and wondered if she knew more but didn’t want to divulge it in front of Abby’s brother.
The outside doors swished open. Pete turned to see Seth storm in. “Over here,” Pete called.
Seth headed their way, his eyes wide with concern. “I need to see her.”
“They’ll let us know when we can go back,” Zoe said.
Seth ignored her and looked at Pete. “I need to see her,” he repeated with more emphasis. “To talk to her.”
Baronick stepped in front of Seth. Pete wondered how much the detective knew about the soured relationship betwe
en the young couple. “I need to see her too,” Baronick said softly. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of vending machine coffee while we wait.”
Pete watched the pair walk away. Once they were out of earshot, he faced Zoe. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I already did.”
“What caused her to collapse?”
“I don’t know.”
He could tell from her expression that she was holding something back. “You asked whether she was a diabetic.”
Zoe’s gaze drifted to the closed doors leading to the exam rooms. “And you said she’s not. Wayne confirmed it. She might just have come down with the flu.”
Pete eyed her. “You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t know what I believe right now.”
She was definitely holding something back. “Tell me,” he said.
Zoe appeared to be willing those closed doors to open. She brought her gaze back to his. “The whole incident felt like déjà vu.”
“What do you mean?”
“Franklin.”
“Marshall?”
“Yeah. The morning he went into cardiac arrest in autopsy? His symptoms were very similar to Abby’s.”
“Except she didn’t go into arrest.”
“No, but her heart rate was way too high. And her EKG didn’t look good at all.”
“You mean…she could still…” He couldn’t say it.
“She’s young. Healthy. Strong. All things Franklin was not.” Zoe’s gaze went back to the doors. “I hate being out here instead of in there. I wish I knew what was going on.”
Pete slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You did everything you could. Abby’s just damned lucky you were there when she passed out.”
Zoe melted into him, and her next words were muffled against his chest. “I miss being a paramedic.”
Twenty-Six
Zoe’s own words surprised her. She missed life on the ambulance. Missed being in the ER, working side by side with the doctors and nurses when needed. Missed the insider’s perspective.
TIL DEATH Page 19
