by Ann Warner
~ ~ ~
The days that followed my letting my last chance with Devi slip through my fingers seemed to crawl by. On Friday, there was a serious accident on the interstate with one fatality. A young woman. Dillingham and I did the notification later that evening. A husband and three kids.
I hadn’t done a notification since my days on the Cincinnati police force, and I’d forgotten how emotionally draining it was. How it always left me wanting nothing more than to go home to someone I cared about and give them a hug.
Saturday morning, I was still feeling that family’s pain, like a bad hangover aspirin couldn’t touch. To counteract it, I went next door and offered to take Teddy and Bruno for a walk.
Kate squeezed my arm, thanking me. While I put the leash on Bruno and stuffed plastic bags in my coat pocket, she got Teddy into his winter gear. I helped her finish up with the mittens, a neat trick since Teddy was dancing with anticipation.
As usual, we headed for the memorial, walking briskly. Once there, we did the full circle, encountering only one other person, a woman in a navy sweat suit who jogged past us, head down. People living in the Cincinnati area are friendly and most of the time will greet each other under these circumstances, although it isn’t unheard of for someone to give this basic courtesy a pass. Usually a new arrival.
“Why didn’t she say hello?” Teddy loves everyone and doesn’t understand when they don’t reciprocate. For that matter, I don’t understand it either.
When Bruno lurched toward the woman to take a sniff, she picked up her pace, moving away, her arms pumping, her breath escaping in white puffs.
We were experiencing intermittent skiffs of snow, and the temperature was in the twenties, cold enough to turn Teddy’s nose red. After another circuit of the memorial park, I hustled us across the street to the shopping center, where there’s a bakery. Teddy is partial to doughnuts and hot chocolate, and I had Kate’s permission to treat him occasionally.
The bakery didn’t allow Bruno inside, but there was a short post by their door where I hooked his leash. Although he could easily nudge the leash free of the post, Bruno seemed to understand that he needed to stay put.
Inside, I got Teddy’s coat and mittens off and placed our order. Then while Teddy carefully ate around the edges of his doughnut, I sipped coffee and watched the action in the parking lot. There wasn’t much. Only a half dozen widely spaced cars, employees probably, since it was still too early for most of the stores to be open.
A Toyota, similar to Devi’s, pulled into a spot in front of the bakery, and I felt a flash of hope that was fulfilled when Devi climbed out.
I was watching her, so I didn’t immediately notice that a car had pulled in behind hers, blocking her in. A man jumped out, his hand fumbling for something in his pocket. Clearly he’d startled Devi because she whirled around to face him, then she backed away.
Bruno had spotted Devi as well and, although he’d never met her, was clearly interested in an introduction. He pushed between her and the man, and then he did something I’d never seen him do before. He lunged at Devi, knocking her to the ground.
I’d seen something in the way Devi reacted to the man that had pulled me to my feet. Now I began running for the door, yelling at the woman behind the counter to call 911 and keep an eye on Teddy.
I shoved the door open. The man was kicking at Bruno, who was lying on top of Devi. The hand that had been in his pocket now brandished a gun.
As I cleared the door, the man’s foot swung toward Bruno yet again, connecting with a solid thunk, and then the arm with the gun at the end of it came up. The thunderous sound of two nearly simultaneous gunshots left my ears ringing.
Although I’d aimed at the man’s middle mass, the bullet punched him in the upper thigh, and he fell to his knees clutching his leg. I kicked his gun away and turned to Devi and Bruno.
There was blood, lots of blood, and neither of them was moving.
I reached a finger to Devi’s neck, feeling for a pulse, my ears still ringing from the gunshots and then ringing even more as patrol cars and EMT units pulled into the parking lot, sirens going and lights flashing.
I set aside my gun and showed my hands to the officer who had leaped out of the nearest car and was now pointing his weapon at me.
“I’m Detective Darren McElroy, Montgomery police. He shot her, and I shot him.” I nodded toward the man in the gray jacket who was now lying on the ground, moaning.
“ID?”
“Not necessary.” It was one of the EMTs speaking. “I know Detective McElroy. May I check the victims, Officer?”
The Blue Ash officer put his weapon away and nodded. I continued to kneel beside Devi, taking her hand in mine, a mantra filling my mind.
Please, God. Please, God. Please, God.
The EMT came and helped me lift Bruno off Devi. He was bleeding from a wound in his side and he whimpered when we moved him. I considered that a good sign, but Devi didn’t move or make a sound, and there was so damn much blood. The EMT bent her legs toward her torso and pressed on her abdomen, which was pulsing blood.
Another EMT joined us and elbowed me gently out of the way, and the two worked quickly to get Devi lifted on to a stretcher.
Within a half minute, they had her loaded and were heading out. The hospital was less than ten minutes away and had an excellent emergency room. If Devi made it there.
Please, God. Please, God.
A Blue Ash cop was kneeling next to the man I’d shot, and his partner came over to check on Bruno, who continued to whimper.
“If she lives, it will be because of him,” I told the officer.
I’d had enough time to figure out that without Bruno’s interference, the man would have had a clear killing shot before I’d even moved out of my chair.
As I tried to comfort Bruno, another EMT unit pulled in.
“Let’s see if we can’t get this fellow taken care of,” the cop said, standing. He walked over to the EMTs gathering around as the man I’d shot was loaded into a second ambulance. I didn’t know what the officer told them, but two EMTs came over and lifted Bruno on to a stretcher.
With all the wounded on their way to receive medical treatment, I shut off panicked thoughts of Devi and turned my attention to Teddy, who I found in the bakery’s kitchen being shown how doughnuts are made.
I could have kissed the clerk. She’d not only had the presence of mind to call 911, she’d also made sure Teddy was safe, and she kept him from seeing most of what had happened.
I called Kate to come get Teddy, and the clerk agreed to watch him until she arrived. Throughout I was managing to act calm, but I suspected that calm was a result of shock. Or perhaps it was my training kicking in. Although I’d never shot anyone, I had been involved in shooting scenes during my time on the Cincinnati police force. Just not one where someone I knew and cared about had been shot.
Another patrol unit arrived on the scene, and they offered me a ride to the hospital, and I accepted. Arriving there, we found the ambulance that had transported Devi was parked in front of the emergency entrance with the back door open. There was no sign of the second ambulance.
I stepped into the waiting room, wanting to bypass the woman at the desk and go directly into the treatment area. But the doors would be locked, and since I wasn’t wearing a uniform, I’d get nowhere without speaking to her.
I slowed, took a breath, and pulled my ID from my pocket. “The young woman who was just brought in, the gunshot victim, I need to talk to her.”
“I’m sorry, Officer. I believe she was taken directly into surgery.”
“Is there someone I can speak to?”
“Certainly. Right through there.”
She pointed, the lock release buzzed, and I was in. The central nursing station was ominously quiet, with no personnel loitering about.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I turned to find either a doctor or a nurse standing there. These days it’s tough to tell as they all we
ar scrubs and white coats. I showed her my badge.
“I expect you’re here to ask about the shooting victims?”
“Yes.”
“The man was stable enough, we sent him on to University Hospital. But the woman was too critical to transport. She’s lost a lot of blood. It’ll be touch and go. Good that she got here so quickly. Well within the golden hour.”
I knew she was referring to what emergency types call those precious early minutes after someone is grievously wounded, but I doubted she would have spoken as candidly if she’d known I had a personal connection to Devi.
She must have seen evidence of that in my expression, however, because she stopped speaking abruptly.
“Are you all right, Officer?”
“I . . . I was there. When she got shot.”
“Here, take a seat.”
She had a strong grip on my arm and was rolling a chair toward me with her leg. I sat because I could no longer stand. She pushed my head down, and after a minute or so, the darkness blanking my vision receded.
“You’re not injured, are you?”
That was the first I noticed my jacket was bloody, as were my jeans. Bruno’s blood, and maybe Devi’s as well.
“No. No, I’m fine. Sorry. Must be a delayed reaction. I had to shoot the assailant.”
Peculiar it would hit me like that, but in all my time on the Cincinnati force, I’d drawn my weapon only once, and I’d never discharged it toward a living target.
“Let’s just give you a quick check, shall we?”
She helped me remove my jacket, and someone else stepped forward and placed it in a plastic bag that was set by my feet.
The woman who’d helped with my jacket wheeled a portable blood-pressure unit over. I submitted to their ministrations, knowing I might as well. With Devi in surgery, any distraction was welcome.
Someone must have notified my department about what had happened because by the time I’d been checked, Dillingham had arrived, accompanied by a Blue Ash detective. The three of us were shown to a small office where we could talk privately, but only after I’d secured the promise from one of the nurses to let me know if Devi’s status changed.
And by status, the nurse and I both knew that meant she’d let me know if Devi died on the operating table, a possibility my mind still refused to accept.
With Dillingham sitting in, I went over the events of the morning. Although it was still morning, it felt like it had been hours since I’d sat idly watching the parking lot while Teddy licked frosting off his fingers.
“Do you know who I shot?”
“Yeah. According to his driver’s license, he’s a Harry Garrison. From Chicago. Car was a rental, so we think he flew in. We’re checking on that now.”
The Blue Ash officer took me through my story again, and I wondered if it sounded as bizarre to him as it did to me. Why would someone from Chicago come here to shoot an activities director for a retirement community?
The Blue Ash cop suggested Garrison might be an ex-boyfriend. I shook my head. I had no idea if that were the case.
As the Blue Ash guy was finishing up, his phone rang. It was his dispatcher with a message that Garrison was out of surgery and could be interviewed shortly, and that Bruno had been taken to a nearby veterinary hospital and was expected to recover. The detective passed along the vet’s name and address, and after wishing me well, he left, presumably to talk to Harry Garrison.
Dillingham and I stared at each other.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with what’s been going on at Brookside, does it?”
“I doubt it. But it’d probably be worthwhile to check for any connection between Harry Garrison of Chicago and Eddie Colter of Cincinnati.”
“I’ll get on that.”
When we stepped out of the office, the nurse who had promised me updates on Devi came toward us. The look on her face made my stomach bottom out.
“I was just coming to tell you, Detective, Ms. Subramanian is still hanging in there. But another surgeon has been called in to assist, and they expect it will be several hours yet before anything more is known about her condition.”
Dillingham had walked up behind me, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks, ma’am,” he told the nurse. Then he steered me outside.
When the cold air hit, I realized I no longer had my coat. No matter. I’d never wear it again anyway.
“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” Dillingham said.
Which was fine since I needed to change clothes and check on Bruno, but then I was coming back to the hospital.
“I’ll let the chief know what’s happening. And I’ll run a check on Garrison,” Dillingham said, pulling into my driveway.
I thanked him and headed inside. As I finished changing clothes, the doorbell rang. It was Kate.
“Are you all right?” she said.
I nodded. “Is Teddy okay?”
She nodded. “He saw some of it, but he doesn’t really understand. He said he saw Devi?”
“She’s the one who was shot.” How odd to be able to say that so calmly.
“Oh my God, I didn’t realize.”
“It’s touch and go, but if she makes it, it will be thanks to Bruno.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He knocked her over and then put himself between her and the gun. How would he know to do that?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. He was a rescue dog . . .”
“Maybe in more ways than one.”
“The clerk at the bakery said one of the EMT units took him some where.”
“Yeah. A vet hospital. I’m going there now to check on him. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Thanks. I need to get back to Teddy.” She paused, and then she stepped closer and hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll be praying for Devi.”
~ ~ ~
At the vet’s, I was escorted to a back room to see Bruno. His middle was tightly wrapped and he was sedated, but I could see he was breathing.
“He’s got a collapsed lung and a cracked rib. But the bullet passed through.”
And hit Devi. Although Bruno had tried his best to prevent that.
“He’s a very lucky dog.”
“And a very brave one.”
If only Devi had been as lucky. I told the vet how Bruno had been wounded, then asked about the bill, which I intended to pay.
“It’s on the house. Least I can do after what this fellow did.”
From the vet’s to the hospital was a ten-minute drive. I parked my car and once again went in the emergency entrance. The same woman was at the desk, and she recognized me and buzzed me into the unit, where the nurse who’d promised to keep me updated told me Devi was still in surgery.
“Why don’t you get a cup of coffee, something to eat? Just give me your cell phone number and I’ll call you when she’s out.”
I considered that a slightly more optimistic statement than her last one. And it unclenched my stomach enough I could at least consider food.
She pointed me toward the cafeteria, where I managed a cup of coffee and most of a bowl of soup. Then I sat staring out the window while around me visitors and hospital staff taking breaks came and went.
The light was fading from the day before my phone buzzed, and I realized I’d been sitting there several hours, my mind blank, as the remains of the soup and coffee cooled.
“She made it out of surgery, Detective. But she’s still sedated.”
“Is it possible . . .” I stopped to clear my throat. “Could I sit with her, do you think?”
“I think that might be arranged. Let me check and call you back.”
She called back after five minutes and gave me directions to the surgical intensive care unit.
I spent the next forty-three hours there.
Chapter Forty-Six
Josephine
Lill and I didn’t learn that Devi had been shot and almost died, was still in danger of dying, unti
l Sunday evening. She was supposed to come to dinner, and when she didn’t show, I called her. There was no answer, so I called Mac.
Lill and I made it to the hospital in under fifteen minutes. Mac, unshaven and rumpled, met us outside the intensive care unit.
“How is she?” Lill and I spoke simultaneously.
“Still critical. She lost a lot of blood.” His voice sounded firm, but I could see from the tension in his eyes and the stiff way he was holding himself he wasn’t as calm as he was trying to appear.
I reached out, put my arms around him, and held on tightly. Holding him, I could feel him trembling as if he were freezing, and that scared me more than his initial announcement. Lill stepped close and gripped Mac’s shoulder.
The three of us stood like that until Mac straightened; then we stepped away from each other.
“Did Eddie shoot her?” I said.
Mac shook his head.
“Then who?”
“A Harry Garrison from Chicago. It’s a long story,” he said.
“Can we see her?”
“I’ll take you to her.”
He buzzed for admittance, and when the lock sounded, he pushed the door open and led us inside. I had a quick impression of a nursing station encircled by roomy cubicles, all containing beds, some with patients, others empty. Mac led us to one of the occupied beds.
Devi lay there motionless, as if she were simply sleeping, but that impression was negated by the tangle of tubing leading from several bags of fluids on an IV pole to Devi’s arm, and the wires emerging from the blanket covering her that were attached to a monitor. Colored lines marched across the screen. I knew from medical dramas that flat lines were bad, and bumpy, spiky lines good. Devi’s lines were bumping and spiking along, thank God.
It all seemed so remarkably peaceful, the three of us standing there while the machines took their measurements and the IV continued to drip. Then I noticed Lill was crying, and realized my eyes had filled as well.
Mac pulled up chairs, and Lill and I sat down. He walked around and stood on the other side of the bed, his eyes never leaving Devi’s face, his hand going out to touch hers. I wondered if he was finally realizing how much he cared for her. I suspected he was.
