“Let go of the child!” Ben dropped, both knees, onto the man’s back and, grabbing his hair, slammed his face into the concrete floor.
Smelly said, “Oof,” and his arm relaxed. Let’s hope the other arm is just as relaxed. Ben could hear the child choking and coughing under there. If Ben’s face were pressed that close to this mess of a human, he’d be coughing, too.
The boy’s father burst into the passage.
Ben jerked the scabby perp to the side by his bent arm, earning a shriek of pain that reverberated. The fellow was getting his wind, spewing a volley of filthy names.
The father grabbed his son’s legs and pulled him away.
Ben yanked the stethoscope off his neck, but the rubber tubes were too short. “Get me something to tie him with.”
From right behind him, Barbara handed him a roll of gauze.
Ben could hear people moving around him in the narrow passage, but he kept his attention on the pile of manure before him as he bound both hands behind the man’s back, wrapping the gauze in tight figure eights. Really tight figure eights. He staggered to his feet and jerked the prisoner upright to sitting. “Someone call the highway patrol.” He rubbed his left elbow.
“That old man who ran out the front door had a cell. They’re on their way.”
“Where’s Esther?” Ben took a moment to simply inhale deeply. Smelly’s stale odor put an end to that quickly.
Barbara stood beside him watching their would-be robber. And to think that the papers would refer to this as an “alleged” robber. “Working with that patient yet. I guess there are some complications. What more do you need? Our sweet old man here has a rather severe nosebleed. At least that’s where I think it’s coming from.”
“What a shame.” Ben fought to control his breathing, yearning for the impossible, to take on oxygen without taking in air. “Where can we stuff him until they get here?”
“Tie him to a chair?” Barbara poked him. “And what’s this ‘Funkmeyer’ stuff, ‘Doc’?”
“You wouldn’t want the doctor to use your real name, would you?”
She smirked.
Ben swiveled to see the mother kneeling close, leaning forward, carefully checking over her son as he lay in his father’s arms. The father was sitting spraddle-legged on the floor. Robbie’s snuffling had stopped, but he still looked frightened.
Ben ignored the continuous line of threats and filth from the man he’d tackled and settled down close to the father’s legs, watching the boy. The bleeding had already stopped from the knife stick and, occasional hiccuppy sobs aside, the child seemed to be breathing all right. His overall color was good, except for one side of his face. It was already turning pale yellow and starting to swell. The kid was going to have one beaut of a black eye. But he was alive.
He was alive. Wonderfully, vibrantly, alive.
Ben held both hands in front of the boy. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I want to check your pulse. It’s part of what we do.” Carefully, he laid two fingers on the kid’s carotid. Robbie watched him suspiciously, but he didn’t move from the warm nest of his father’s bosom. His pulse was firm, steady, about right for a kid his size.
A siren cut off outside that Ben had not even realized was hooting.
“State patrol. They’re here.” Barbara moved behind him and called, “Right in here. This way. It’s under control. You can put your guns away.”
Ben didn’t bother to tell her that law officers never pay attention to suggestions to holster sidearms. Or were they carrying something heavier?
Heavier. Not AK-47s exactly, but some hefty firepower. Two uniformed highway patrolmen appeared, their guns pointed up and prepared to blow holes in the ceiling.
Ben gestured with his head, but he didn’t move from his seat in front of the family. “He’s all wrapped up and waiting for you.”
“Any other weapons on him?”
“Didn’t check. But he didn’t go for any after he lost the knife.”
The taller of the two, a solid hunk of a guy with LARRIMER on the cotton name tape on his shirt, walked over to Smelly. He leaned down to frisk the foul fellow and quickly stepped back. “You planning on cleaning him up some?”
“Probably not.” Definitely not. Why spoil the kid’s dream of taking in a clean perp?
Larrimer asked, “You have a holding cell or something in town here?”
Ben shrugged. “You might try city hall. There used to be a cell there down in the basement, remodeled janitor’s closet.”
Larrimer grunted, a sort of acknowledgment. “Four blocks south on the right?”
“That one, yeah. Look for a clock tower. Clock doesn’t run right, so don’t believe what it says.” Obviously the officers had been brought in from some other part of the state. They didn’t know the area, and Ben had not seen them before.
The shorter of the two, labeled OLSEN on his shirt, bagged their evidence, the knife, without touching it. Ben admired the professionalism.
The smelly one burst out with, “You can’t treat me like this! I got rights! I’m a citizen, not one a them illegals.”
Larrimer grimaced, actually a half smile. “Ya know, I think I’ve heard that line somewhere before.”
“You hit me! I’m suin’!” It sounded more like shoo-in.
Ben rather enjoyed this now that it had ended happily ever after, except for his elbow. “I was making an official arrest.”
“You’re a doctor! You can’t arrest me!”
Ben dragged his badge case out of his pocket. Dang, his left elbow hurt! He flipped it open where Larrimer could see it but their perp could not.
The fellow nodded. “This guy walk?”
“Not real steady, but he walks.” Ben felt suddenly very, very weary. And the day was still young. “Just get him out of here. Please?” He climbed to his feet and helped the missus to hers. “Let’s take your boy into one of the exam rooms and look him over.”
“Come with me.” Barbara took the mother’s arm. “Let’s stop and get some coffee.” Her soothing voice helped bring calm to the whole area.
“We’ll come back later to get a statement.” Officer Jensen moved forward to help haul their prisoner to his feet, reflexively stepped back, steeled himself, and grabbed one armpit. Smelly lurched upright, still breathing fire and smoke. The man was coming up with words Ben hadn’t heard since high school.
Larrimer asked, “Gonna check this one out?”
Ben heaved a sigh. “Maybe.” The concession was almost more than he could bear. The thought of even touching the scum again made his skin crawl. “After we take care of the boy.”
“If we get a call…”
Ben raised his voice. “The boy comes first. Then Mr. Congeniality here, if I get to him. We’re a very small facility. He should really be seen in a larger facility. Mayo, maybe. I hear LA has a nice hospital.”
Larrimer shrugged and grinned. Jensen nodded. “Good for you.”
“I’ll bring you coffee if you like,” Barbara offered. “No, wait. Why don’t you all follow me to the break room and make yourselves comfortable? Coffee and maybe some bagels left. You’re going to want to get information from witnesses anyway, right?”
“Thanks, ma’am. You have creamer?”
“Sure do. Real cream, too.”
They trooped off toward the break room, and Ben led the boy and his father to the one empty examination room. “I am so sorry. That’s the first time we’ve ever had an incident like that.”
“Not your fault,” the father answered. “Wish I’d a been able to help you.”
Ben cranked the head of the examination table as upright as he could. “Sir, sit up on the table here so I can see better, and just hold him, snuggle him; no need to try to lay him down. Poor little tyke, he’s been through a lot. What were you coming in for?”
The fellow stretched himself out and leaned back to half sitting. “So long ago, I hardly remember.”
“I know the feeling.” Boy, do I. Ben paused
to count the child’s breaths. Normal. “So you’re Robbie.”
“Alstrup. Robert Mason Alstrup. I’m Joe. Joseph. His mother is Donna. He has a rash on his chest and belly and was running a temp. We were thinking impetigo at first, but that’s mostly on the face, right? I’ve not seen something like this before, so we tried to get here before the storm.”
“Mommy?” It was the first word Ben had heard from the child, since screaming doesn’t count. Robbie started to look frightened again.
“Your mommy’s getting coffee and she’ll be right back.” Ben gently touched the swollen face, earning a shriek as Robbie jerked away. “Easy, Robbie, I need to see what’s wrong so we can fix it. Let’s get X-rays here, just to make sure his facial bones aren’t damaged.” The swelling was already closing one tear-filled eye.
He lifted the boy’s little shirt. Sure enough, the rash his father mentioned. Ben checked the arms and legs. Clear. Only on the torso. And he’d seen it before. “Ever hear of Christmas tree rash?”
“No. Sounds seasonal.”
Ben smiled. “Because it sometimes forms a pattern on the torso like a sort of Christmas tree. Pityriasis rosea is the medical term. My cousin Tom got it and my aunt was sure he was going to die. It looks gross, but it’s harmless. It cures itself and almost never comes back. No good medication for it.”
“When? When does it disappear?”
“Usually about three weeks, a little more.”
Joe shifted a little. “His mother wants it to go away right now.”
“So did my aunt.” He checked for broken bones, and Robbie let him. He put on his ears—this stethoscope was coming in handy all kinds of ways today—and listened to the child’s chest. Sounded clear.
Barbara entered with two coffee cups in hand and set them on the counter. Donna Alstrup came in right behind her and Robbie instantly stretched out his arms toward her. The momma took her child, and it was obvious that Robbie’s world was back on its axis.
Barbara watched for a moment. “The staters are taking witness statements, then they’ll take ours. You need cold packs?”
Ben picked up his coffee. “Yes. Is Susan here?”
Joe Alstrup stared at him. “In coffee?”
Ben rather liked this guy. Despite watching his son get kidnapped at knifepoint, he was handling the moment really well. “To minimize the swelling on your son’s face. He may not like it, but we get better X-rays if there’s less swelling.” Digital imaging did just fine with swelling. This clunker equipment did not.
Barbara paused in the doorway. “Susan’s here. I gave the officers their coffee, too. Our odorific visitor is out in their squad car. Apparently it’s against protocols, but they have both front windows cranked clear open. Oh, and I apologized to everyone out front. We have two more patients out there, but they don’t seem critical.”
“Thanks. Help here, please, while I check on Esther.” He stepped out into the hall, blinked a few times, and blew out a breath before tipping his head back and sidewise.
He stood a moment at the door to the mini surgery before he stepped inside, surveying the mood of the place—more specifically, Esther’s mood. She seemed to be doing all right.
An older woman lay on the table, pale, sort of shaking, perhaps Parkinson’s.
Esther shook her head. “I could hear some of what was going on but I was busy here. I’m assuming no one was badly hurt. How’s the boy?”
Ben gave her a rundown. “Sure glad you didn’t try to come out.”
“I could tell Barbara meant business when she hollered. I had plenty to do here.”
“All by yourself. Sorry.” He studied her awhile. She wasn’t quite normal, not quite the firm, assured, efficient person he knew. She seemed distracted, hesitant, even frightened.
She tapped an inflatable splint, testing firmness. “She’s been unconscious since they brought her in. Her poor body; I’m afraid it’s going to give up on her. If only they had found her sooner, there might have been more hope.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“My head knows that but somehow there’s a break in communication between my head and my heart.”
Maybe that was it. Maybe he was reading too much into her odd behavior, her appearance of fearfulness and sorrow. It made her seem vulnerable. Maybe she was vulnerable. This had been a heavy burden for a physician’s assistant, and it wasn’t over yet. It startled him to realize that this uncertainty, this vulnerability made her very beautiful. She was a pretty girl anyway, but now she seemed quite stunning.
The deep sadness in her voice made Ben want to wrap his arms around her and get her to cry. Like his mother had always said, God gave us tears to wash away the sorrow. Had God answered the prayers he shot heavenward or…? He moved toward her.
Apparently without thinking what she was doing, she spontaneously moved away from him, keeping the distance. “Dennis keeps telling me this could have been so much worse.”
“Yeah, I know.” Not that that was any real help right now. “Get you anything?”
“No, but I can’t leave her on the table like this without restraints. She might roll off. And what if I need the table for someone else?” She turned her head slightly, frowning. A worried frown. “The ambulance again?”
“We’ll see.” He let himself out of the room and headed back the hall.
The officers in the break room had finished their coffee and were packing up their laptops. Larrimer said, “Border patrol, huh?”
“And the bad guys tremble in their boots. Where you two from?”
“South of St. Paul. We’re part of the emergency forces sent up here to help you folks out.”
“Thanks. From all of us. At least the Drop In Café is back in business, so you have a place to eat.” He made himself mental note to remind the Alstrups about the café. They must be starved by now.
“We’re good. Emergency services has taken over the school, so all us emergency people have food and a place to sleep. School cafeteria food and squeaky cots. What more could we ask for?”
“Lucky you.” The whole world could be falling down out there and he’d not have known. He hadn’t even called home since arriving at the clinic. Please Lord, let them be safe. While the house had withstood the first storm, it could have been damaged enough to…Don’t even think that, he ordered himself. Get out to the waiting room and see who needs what.
“Thanks for your help here.” He watched them leave and turned to the next patient as the ambulance burped its arrival announcement.
The place was nearly full again. Where would they put the new patients?
Chapter Thirteen
Flicker.
Flicker.
Black.
Well, not black everywhere—it was only going on five in the afternoon—but black in Esther’s office.
More flickers, the generators coughed and kicked in, and the light came on again. Her computer was dark, of course; it had died with the first flicker. She pushed the START button and sat back, fidgeting impatiently. This desktop had to be at least ten years old, and it took forever to boot up. Clunky computer, clunky generators, clunky X-ray apparatus. She’d had a terrible time getting satisfactory images of little Robbie’s bruised head.
The only tiny bright spot, if you could call it that, was that she noticed Ben James repeatedly rubbing his left elbow. So when the Alstrups were taken care of, she made him stick his arm under the beam and get it X-rayed. Bruised, but nothing broken, same as Robbie’s skull. But of course, pain was another matter.
Someone thumped on her door and entered before she could say Come in. Chief flopped down in the chair beside her desk.
She nodded. “Chief Harden.”
“Esther.”
And then she found herself saying, “Paul, you look like death in a thunder mug.” She raised her hand to fend off objections and added, “I don’t want to check you out. I want real doctors in a real hospital to check you out. And quickly.”
“You gave m
e a physical a couple of weeks ago.”
“It was over two months ago, and you had elevated BP and irregular pulse then. It hasn’t improved; I can tell by your skin tone.”
“Hey, look. If I want to get badgered, I’ll go back to my office and let Jenny do it. She’s better at it than you.”
“So she wants you to get your health looked into, too.”
“And Ben James. And Barbara. I’m getting a little sick of it. More than a little. What I came over to ask was, your power just now failed, right, so you’re on generator? How’s your diesel supply?”
“Good.”
“Do you need anything else so far?”
“Not yet, but the night is young. What’s going down out there?”
“Usual. Wind, lotsa rain. Incidentally, before you hear it on the grapevine, one fatality so far: George Jacobson, age seventy-one, tree fell on him.”
She gasped. “He’s my patient! Was. Diabetic; I had him on insulin therapy and an exercise regimen and he was responding beautifully. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“We’re all sorry. He left behind a lot of friends. Lifelong resident, he and his wife owned Ace Cleaners.”
“The one on the mall?” Mall. Five stores and a snowmobile dealership.
“Yeah.” He stood up by leaning on her desk and lurching forward. His skin looked pasty.
“Paul, let me check you now. I mean right now. Things are going—”
“Esther, knock it off! I’m tired, understand? Two killer storms practically in tandem harness. Call us when you need something.” He left.
She heard Ben’s voice in the hall. The chief shouted, “Will you people cut it out!” so Ben must have remarked on his health, too.
And then Ben cried, “No! Not George!” The chief must have just told him. She got up and hurried out into the hall.
They were standing near the waiting room. The radio on the chief’s belt squawked. Esther had trouble understanding radio chatter even when the chatterers spoke plainly, and this radio talk sounded garbled to her. She could not even follow what was going on from the chief’s side of the conversation.
Wake the Dawn Page 12
