Paramedic Killer

by Patterson, Pat

  “You went through my phone?”

  Jim felt stunned.

  “Something’s got to change. Oh, my goodness, something has got to change.” Valerie stood and pushed her chair away from the table. “Look, I’m sorry. I am totally exhausted. I couldn’t sleep at all last night. All I could think about was that insane killer shooting at us, and my little sister shooting back. Mel hates guns! I hate guns! We should never have been in that situation. I don’t know, I just feel like we, I mean, I … Oohhh!” Valerie banged her fists against her thighs. “I need some time, Jim. That’s all.”

  “Time? Val?”

  “Jim, please just leave. I need to be alone right now.”

  Valerie lowered her chin and broke into a deep sob. Jim started toward her, but before he could reach her she removed the ring from her finger, threw it at him, and ran from the room. He thought of running after her but decided to let her go. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. A million thoughts flashed through his mind, none of them good. “What’s happening?” he murmured. “What is happening to me?”

  “Who was that,” Evan said sticking his head inside the lounge. “Was that a doctor you were yelling at? Why would you ever yell at such a gorgeous woman?”

  “Evan, please stop.”

  “Do you know her? Could you introduce me to her? And what’d you say to make her so mad? She was like a hornet looking for someone to sting. Hey, doc, did I tell you the one about the bee that got his stinger stuck in a…”

  “Evan! Shut up!”

  CHAPTER

  31

  SUNDAY—08:03—NOVEL IDEA (SLIP #23 Pair-A-Docks) Sadie hated to travel. It meant leaving her comfort zone, getting out of her box, and dealing with traffic and GPS units and restaurants, and hotel beds that other people had slept in. But despite her aversion for highways and people, she realized it was a price she had to pay for her newfound success. And her attendance at the Durham Christian Romance Writer’s Conference was not optional. She was the scheduled keynote speaker and she wasn’t looking forward to it. But with her new boss planning to attend, it was a pill she would have to swallow. Senior Editor Joan Parker would undoubtedly introduce her to the local writing community as her latest discovery, the golden girl of the moment en route to the bestseller list. Sadie felt her hands begin to sweat. She stuffed an extra pair of running socks into her travel bag and pulled the zipper shut. It was a procedure she would repeat more than five times before the morning was over.

  Sadie’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and felt her heart begin to race. It was time to get down to business.

  “Oh, I like that name,” Joan Parker exclaimed. “Alex Hunt. Such a strong name.”

  “I had hoped you would like it.”

  “Very catchy, dear. Your email said you found a character study for him, too.”

  “Well, Joan, I’m afraid the situation has changed somewhat.”

  “And an East Beach paramedic at that. Oh, Sadie, what a wonderful plot. What a sensational opportunity.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Darling, haven’t you been following the news? Two EMTs have been killed this week by some sort of masked murderer. One occurred right there in East Beach. Just awful. Aren’t you in East Beach, darling? And they say the killer is still on the loose. What a stupendous break!”

  “Ms. Parker, I—”

  “Alex Hunt? Abby’s love? A paramedic with two killers on his trail? I love it! And your little fictional town deep within the heart of Morehead City. Sensational! Oh, I can’t wait to see what happens. But will he and Abby get together? Will he kill the killers? Oh, you’ve got such a gift, darling. I cannot wait to see how the story ends.”

  “But Ms. Parker, I—”

  “Joan, dear. Do call me Joan.”

  “Joan, I can’t use this.”

  “No, no, darling, you must! Oh, it works! A romantic suspense. Abby loves Alex. The killers want him dead. You’ll figure out the how’s and why’s of the plot … you always do … but he must survive. The conclusion, of course, must be outrageously dramatic, with a violent confrontation and a horrendous fight. Not too much blood, mind you. Your readers won’t tolerate too much gore. You’ll determine how Alex wins, of course, as well as the underlying connections— Alex’s relationship with Abby, how they fall in love, and so forth—but in the end the two lovers walk hand-in-hand into a beautiful orange sunset. Oh, Sadie, what a marvelous story. You could call it Medic Madness, or Paramedic Killer, or something sinister like that. Your readers will love it.”

  “Joan, Alex is the paramedic in the news. His partner was the last medic killed.”

  “You know this man?”

  “He lives right here at the marina. I’m looking at his house right now. The police found a bomb planted in his living room just last night. Someone tried to blow him up.”

  “Sadie, darling, do you realize the opportunity we have here? You’re halfway through a romantic suspense, and the plot is unfolding right before your eyes. All you have to do is write it.”

  “But Joan, I—”

  “It’s like having a half-lap lead in a one lap race.”

  “Joan—”

  “We can market it as—”

  “Miss Parker, stop!” The phone grew silent. Sadie felt her stomach twist into knots. “Joan, please listen to me. I can’t use this.”

  “But, darling, you must.”

  “I promised him I wouldn’t use it.”

  “Promised whom?”

  “Him. Alex. Jim. I can still use him as Abby’s new love interest, in fact, I plan to have them fall deeply in love, but this novel will be about sailing, and fishing, and the down east waterway lifestyle, not about the recent murders.”

  “Young lady, you busted your backside to get a contract with Parker and Raines Publishing, and if I am not mistaken you received a quite sizeable advance for this manuscript. I fought to get that for you, you know. If I were you, I would resist any personal feelings you might have for this gentleman and concentrate on writing the blockbuster that my publishing board and I are expecting. This is your big chance, Sadie Miller. Do not blow it, dear.”

  “Well, I suppose I could—”

  “Oh, darling, imagine the interest. A novel based on local murders still hot in the news! Someone’s going to write about it. Why not you? By the way, hon, regarding your speech: I hope you intend to use the same ‘Falling in Love’ theme that you used for your address in Charleston. It was just marvelous. Falling in love with your main character. Oh, darling, it works.”

  Sadie bit her tongue.

  “Sweetie, I’m truly looking forward to hearing it. Now tell me, when will you be arriving?”

  “Tomorrow, around five.”

  “Oh, grand. I’m just dying to see you. Now call me when you arrive, dear. We’ll do dinner. The Inn has a magnificent restaurant, and I just happen to be friends with chef Gino. His food is divine. Okay, then, do be safe. Bye now.”

  Sadie felt nauseated. She stared at her phone for a full minute after Joan hung up, then unzipped her suitcase and removed every piece of clothing. She looked over the items and then refolded and replaced them, one by one.

  CHAPTER

  32

  SUNDAY—08:13—AMBULANCE BAY (EAST Beach Regional Hospital, ED) Jim chain-smoked three cigarettes before throwing the fourth one to the ground half-smoked. He ground it into the pavement, kicked the curb with his boot, and then cursed and pulled out another. The sliding glass doors to the emergency department opened and Evan walked out with a stack of folded towels in his hands. He set them on the rear bumper of the ambulance and lit a cigarette of his own. “You know,” he said lighting the stick and tossing the match into a nearby puddle. “Smoking doesn’t fit you, doc. From what I can tell you’ve worked hard to get into shape. Why throw it all away for a few measly coffin nails?”

  “You’re smoking.”

  “I’m not in shape. Besides, I come from a long line of deep woods, trail
er park trash. Comes natural to me.”

  “You know, Evan … you may be the most annoying person I have ever met, but I like you.”

  “Thanks, doc. It feels good to be loved.”

  “You’re a pretty good medic, too. Where have you been all these years?”

  “In Durham, treating everything from Anxiety to Zinc deficiency.”

  “I’m glad you finally came to your senses and moved here.”

  “Oh, I still live and work in Durham. I took the job here for extra income.”

  “Yeah, but why East Beach?”

  “Actually, I grew up down the road close to Newport. Besides—” He opened the linen locker on the side of the ambulance and packed the towels inside. “You’ve got some really good-looking doctors and nurses here.”

  Jim rolled the remade stretcher into the back of the truck and closed the doors.

  “Doc—” Evan turned serious. “I don’t mean to get on your nerves all the time. I really don’t. I’m just trying to keep things fun, and from the looks of things you could use a little cheering up.”

  “I’m not sure I like this side of you.”

  “I’m not always a clown. So,” he said taking a seat on the bumper. “What’s eating you?”

  “What makes you think something’s eating me?”

  “I know neurotic when I see it.”

  Jim couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, Valerie just broke up with me.”

  “Who?”

  “Doctor Vick. The girl you saw me arguing with.”

  “That doctor? You’re dating her?”

  “Actually, she was my fiancée.” Jim reached in his pocket for the diamond ring. “She just gave this back.”

  “Jeez, son, you let that get away?”

  “It’s not that simple, Evan. She’s scared.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the murder on Reservoir Street Friday night?”

  “The victim was an old friend of mine, my old partner, in fact. And, believe it or not, his grandmother was murdered, too, the same night. Right down the street from where he was killed. Similar M-O, except they used a brick. And, of course, you know about Tom Bowers and his wife. All four victims got it the same way. There’s a definite pattern. Someone wants revenge.” Jim sighed and told Evan the entire story—the wreck, the fire, and the feeling of guilt he had carried for the past six years. “We tried to get them all out, but the fire … well, you know about scene safety. We had to get back.”

  Evan listened intently. He nodded knowingly, almost as if he had been there himself. “And you think you and your girlfriend are next?”

  “I did, but it’s over now. My friend Rico led his team on a raid last night at some motorcycle club near Cedar Creek. They killed one of the suspects and caught the other one last night on Harker’s Island.”

  Jim thought he saw Evan’s face pale, a momentary loss of color as if a small cloud had passed in front of the sun, but it pinked up again quickly, and like a standup comedian stepping onto stage beneath hot spotlights, the old Evan returned. He crushed his cigarette butt with his boot and slapped Jim on the back. “Well, I’m glad it’s over. C’mon, I’m starving. Let’s go get breakfast.”

  “I know a good little ham ’n’ egger down on the waterfront. Head back down Club Boulevard toward Morehead.”

  “Hey, that reminds me. I had a patient last week that died of a heart attack. Guess how? He drank too much coffee. Ha-ha! Drank so much it turned him sunny side up. They say the caffeine decreased his phosphodiesterase levels, which caused increased levels of cyclic adenosine monophosphate in his cardiac tissues, which elevated his heart rate and increased inotropic effects, and oxygen demand, and that led to—”

  “Evan!”

  “I know. Shut up.”

  “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER

  33

  SUNDAY—08:20—WAITING ROOM, SURGICAL TRAUMA INTENSIVE CARE UNIT (East Beach Regional Hospital) Rico ran into the waiting area and glanced around the room. Most every seat was occupied. Some people chatted and laughed, others read, and a few looked delirious from exhaustion. Rico could understand that. He hadn’t slept in days. He spotted a large man dressed in khaki pants and a blue polo shirt leaning against the far wall, head down, eyes shut. A pistol clung to his right hip, a gold badge to his belt. “Greg,” he called hurrying over. “Jimmy! How is he?”

  Mulkhead didn’t budge, in fact, Rico could tell by the slow snoring sound emanating from his throat that he was asleep. Rico grabbed his arm and gently shook it. “Greg, it’s Rico. Wake up.”

  “Huh?” Mulkhead opened his eyes and stared blearily at Rico. “Do what? Rico?”

  “Man, how do you do that?”

  “Do what?” Mulkhead yawned. “Sleep?”

  “So, thanks for calling. I got here as fast as I could.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry, I hated having to be the one to tell you. Jimmy’s still in recovery, Rico. They say it’s too early to tell, but it looks promising.”

  “Promising? What does that mean?”

  “It means he’s alive.”

  “You said something about a wreck?”

  “There’s a little-known passageway between Lookout Bight and Harker’s Island. It cuts through the reeds in about three feet of water. Only guys with local knowledge would even know about it. I found him floating face up in the reeds. If it weren’t for his life preserver, he would have drowned.”

  “Did he fall out of the boat?”

  “No way. I found his boat nearby with a huge gash in the side. Had’to’ve been rammed by another boat.”

  “The Canaday’s have a deep V. Could that have done it?”

  “Sure.”

  Rico could feel his stomach tighten. “I’m afraid this is all my fault, Greg.”

  “Jimmy’s a professional. He knew what he was doing.”

  “Sergeant Mulkhead?” A tall doctor in blue scrubs walked up to Mulkhead. “Good news. It seems your Corporal Little is a pretty tough cookie. He sustained a life-threatening head injury, but I feel confident that he will make it.”

  “But?” Mulkhead said. “I see the ‘but’ in your eyes.”

  “He still has a long way to go. The impact must have thrown him against something hard, perhaps the fiberglass hull. He suffered what we call a depressed skull fracture on the right side of his head close to the orbit. I found evidence of glass fibers in the globe.”

  “Globe?”

  “Eyeball. The splintering of the orbital bone severed the globe along with part of the retina.” The surgeon paused and rubbed his eyes. “With a skull fracture of this type, there’s a high risk of increased intracranial pressure which can lead to something we call herniation. We made some minor corrections in surgery, so I don’t think the pressure will increase further, but he needs to be seen by a specialist right away. He could lose that right eye.”

  “When will we know for sure?”

  “I’m sending him out. Old Trinity Medical Center has a doctor who specializes in this type of surgery. Dr. Ning Tang-Jing. Best on the east coast. We’ll be flying him out within the next few hours.”

  “Any other injuries?” Rico said.

  “Fractured forearm, two broken ribs, and lots of bumps and bruises, but nothing else life-threatening. Gentlemen,” he said turning. “I’m sorry to be curt, but I must get back inside now. I have another surgery to perform.” The doctor walked away. Rico turned to Mulkhead. “Looks like I’m going to Durham. But first I have to find my best friend and tell him his fiancée’s little sister is dead.”

  CHAPTER

  34

  SUNDAY—08:55—SANDY B’s RESTAURANT (South 7th Street, Morehead City waterfront) “Told you earlier, doc. I grew up in Newport. Just down the road. Dad and I moved to Durham when Mom died. He had a business opportunity there and decided to go for it.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “Restaurant slash bar.” Evan reached for a piece of buttered toast. “Irish pub. He’s done
pretty well.”

  “And so you moved to Durham and got involved with EMS?”

  “Actually, I tried to enlist in the Coast Guard, like you, but they wouldn’t have me.”

  “Why?” Jim took a bite of scrambled eggs and washed it down with a swig of hot coffee. “You look like you’re in good enough shape.”

  “I have a chronic shoulder problem.”

  “Yeah, I saw you wince earlier. What’s up?”

  “Car accident. It’s nothing really. But—” He folded a pancake in half and shoved it into his mouth. “I’ll never achieve that dream. But that’s life. Anyway, I finished high school in Durham, volunteered at one of the county fire departments, and when I turned eighteen took my EMS classes and started working for Medic. Been working there ever since.”

  Jim’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and pushed SEND. “Rico?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Evan and I are eating breakfast at Sandy B’s. Come join us.”

  “Give me ten. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Who was that?” Evan said, picking up a piece of burnt toast and wiping the last of the egg yolk off his plate.

  “Rico. He sounded pretty upset.”

  * * *

  Rico would gladly have reabsorbed every broken bone, black eye, bodily bruise, and sucker punch he had ever sustained to keep from having to walk into Sandy B’s. His best friend’s life was about to change, and he was the one assigned to give him the painful shove. He took a deep breath, climbed out of his Charger, and walked up the sidewalk into the restaurant. A tiny brass bell above the door rang to announce his entrance. He nodded at the hostess and glanced around, spotting Jim on the far side of the room next to the window. His partner looked friendly, but formidable. Rico nodded at him and then turned to Jim.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, bud.”

  “You’re not. Have a seat.”

  “Thanks, but we need to talk.”