“Where’s that bloody ambulance?” Bridger’s forearms were aching with the pressure he was applying to the wound on Martin’s shoulder. Before anyone could reply, two Ambulance Medics appeared from behind them and crouched down beside him. They were an odd pair, one, an older male with glasses and the look of importance, sweating slightly and carrying a large green backpack and the other a younger female who looked fresh out of school but who appeared to be in charge.
“We’ll take it from here,” the young female medic said before issuing a set of instructions to her colleague that went straight over Bridger’s head. Her male colleague appeared to know exactly what he was doing though as he produced a large white compression dressing from the bag and placed it over Martins wound after unceremoniously pushing Bridger’s hands away.
“You’ve done a good job so far, the bleeding has mostly been contained,” he said by way of conciliation. “This young man is lucky you were here”.
Bridger was not so sure that what the male medic had said was right about being lucky. He looked at the female medic who was busy preparing an IV line to put into Martins arm to try to replace some of the fluids he had lost. They were both calm and confident and seemed in no real hurry. He took their words and actions as a good sign that Martin would be okay. Not exactly what David McLaren had wanted but it was as good as it was going to get in the circumstances.
He stood up; feeling his own blood circulating back into his stiff legs then looked at Gary and Ken. The look on Gary’s face said to him that he had a few questions he would like answered. The look on Ken’s face told him that he thought he should be dead right now and he felt cheated somehow. He actually thought Ken could be right; he deserved whatever Ken thought should have happened but then he did not have time to dwell on the outcome. Feeling inside his jacket pocket, he felt the paper sheet with his false confession on it. He knew there where lawyers that expected this to be with them in the next two hours but he needed to find Laura first.
Picking his phone out of his pocket, he dialled the numbers he knew by heart. The call rang through to answer phone again. “Shit…” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His mind was working over every possible scenario, each of them bad. Where are you Laura?
He started to panic a little but then he forced himself to control his breathing, helping to calm him and think more clearly. She would be at work, unable to answer her phone or in a meeting, or she may be just ignoring his call as a show of defiance. He knew in his heart what call he should make next but felt like he would be betraying Laura if he did.
Gary and Ken had moved a short distance away and looked to be in deep discussion. He knew it was protocol to stand Ken down pending an investigation as it was with all Police shootings and that was probably the discussion now that was played out on the street a short distance from the ‘victim’. He took the opportunity to slip a bit further away as he dialled Jane’s number; he was almost back at his car when she picked up.
“Hey lover.” Her voice was husky and he could sense the smile in it, “I was wondering if you would call.”
He was in no mood to play along “Not now Jane, have you seen Laura today?” He did not wait for an answer “Forget that, where did she go when she left your office this morning.”
There was a slight pause as Jane took a breath “She said she was meeting a client…, how did you know we had an appointment Mike? It was a last minute thing.”
“Did you see anyone hanging around that looked suspicious?”
“Not that I recall… what’s this about Mike?”
“Nothing… If you hear from her, tell her to ring me.” He only felt slightly guilty about not telling Jane the truth, but it was more likely to be Laura that McLaren would target, he could not know anything about his relationship with Jane.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Mike” Jane replied with a slight annoyance in her voice “You don’t sound like you are in too good a mood. You don’t want to say or do anything stupid; Laura wants to keep things amicable, and those photo’s she showed me today… well, let’s just say that’s not a good start.”
His thoughts were falling over themselves inside his head while his brain flipped from the image of his wife to that of his two colleagues, never making any clear division between them. It was only his heart pushing him towards Laura but he did care about his colleagues as well. He did not hear what Jane had said about the photos. “Just get her to call me.” He cut the connection and looked at his watch; he needed to know who McLarens man was on the outside and he needed to buy some time. Gary looked over in his direction, which sparked an idea.
“Gary, we need to keep this out of the media and off of the main police channels for as long as possible, I don’t want it known who has been shot here.” He had no idea how far McLaren’s tentacles spread but if he got wind of his son being shot then that would not be good for anyone, he needed a complete lockdown on this one.
Gary’s face was incredulous “You don’t want much do you Mike. How do you think I’m going to do that?”
Before he could say anything in reply two young squad members came out of the house behind them, their faces were pale and drawn. One of them was Steve ‘the muscle’ Kirkland “We’ve got one inside, sitting in a chair; he’s missing most of his head” Steve said, the look on his face at complete odds with his powerful physique.
“That will be his step father” Bridger indicated Martins still unmoving figure being worked on by the medics as he spoke “Apparently Martin didn’t do it.” He got into his car without saying anything else and shut the door, ignoring the looks he was receiving from his colleagues and let the quietness of the cabin’s interior wash over him, trying to make sense of what he was going to do next.
Detective Brian Johnson was only a couple of streets away at the pad; he was always his sounding board in times of crisis. He had been there on more than one occasion for him in the past. He knew he needed to share the burden of his dilemma with someone, just to help him think more clearly. His emotions were getting the better of him and he could feel a deep desire for a drink, and that was not where he wanted to go right now. He started the car and pressed heavily on the accelerator spinning the wheels slightly as he drove away, ignoring the looks on his colleagues’ faces.
Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 23
