by Christy Poff
"Go ahead."
"The owner of the store evidently was caught off-guard by her assailant. I need a forensics team here for inside plus one for the outside where we think we've found an escape route. Notify detectives..."
"Already have."
"Thanks,” he said, looking around the once neat office area. “Oh, my God..."
"What?” the other officer asked.
"I think she's one of PFD's."
"What?"
"Look at the picture."
"That's Carrington over at 11, isn't it?"
"Shit!” Nicholson cursed. He pulled out his cell and called over to the firehouse, hating what he had to do.
"Yeah, is Carrington in?"
Nicholson waited while time seemed to stand still.
"Carrington."
"Reed, it's Matt Nicholson..."
* * * *
"Hey, Cap, phone call."
"Thanks."
Reed Carrington walked across the engine room floor to his office. They'd been working the pump on the engine, exercising it—a job done when the pump hadn't been put into service for a couple days. Checking his watch, he smiled figuring it was Chelsea.
"Carrington."
"Reed, it's Matt Nicholson."
"Matt, what do I..."
"I've got bad news. I'm at Chelsea's on—"
"Is she all right?” Reed asked immediately.
"No, I've called for medics to be dispatched here."
"I'm on my way."
"I figured when I saw the photos..."
"Thanks, Matt."
Reed grabbed a radio, told Fisher to take over and raced out of the station. He drove the few blocks between Engine 11 and Chestnut Street, parked and ran the rest of the way to the gallery, Saturday afternoon traffic jammed because of an event at Independence Hall.
"I'm sorry, sir,” a patrolman at the front door began. “This is a restricted..."
"It's all right, Cooper!” Nicholson yelled. “I called him."
The officer stepped aside allowing Reed to enter the gallery. He went in meeting Matt Nicholson, one of the officers he'd worked with several times before. They shook hands, Reed noticing Nicholson's solemn expression.
"Where is she? How is she?"
"She's back here and in bad shape. I've made sure no one's moved her."
"Where's the medic?"
"Didn't you hear the dispatch?"
"No, we've been working on the pump with the engine running. You don't hear much..."
"First and second due units went to medical emergencies while third due can't get through traffic."
As soon as Nicholson explained things, Reed understood. He followed the officer to the office area and froze, shocked seeing Chelsea's battered body lying on the floor, her eyes wide open. He went to her, checking for a pulse. He felt a faint one, relief overtaking him.
"Chels, it's Reed, hold on,” he said. “The medics are doing their best to get here."
"Reed?” she whispered, her voice faint.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Baby..."
"Shh, save your strength."
"Sorry,” she murmured.
"This wasn't your fault."
"Cold..."
"Get me something to cover her with,” he ordered. “Where the hell is the medic?"
"At the light."
A few moments later, the medics entered the gallery going straight to where their patient waited. Reed held her hand, brushing the hair from her face. His breath caught when he saw the telltale trickle of blood from her nose.
"Stay,” she whispered.
"I will,” he assured her. “I won't leave you."
"Cap?"
"She said she's cold. I detected a faint pulse and she's been in and out of consciousness. She has not been moved since officers got here,” Reed started.
"Captain Carrington, let us do what we have to do."
He watched the medics do their jobs then, when they went to transport their patient to Jefferson Hospital, he went with them. While they prepared to move her, Reed handed his keys to Nicholson.
"The Chevelle's over on 5th. Can you get it to the station and leave the keys with Fisher or someone? You better tell him what's going on, too."
"Sure thing,” Nicholson said. “I'll take care of it myself."
"Thanks."
"Hey, Reed, I hope she makes it."
"So do I."
* * * *
Jocilynne Sommersby surfed between the local news channels to see if her meeting with Chelsea Strawbridge made any waves.
Nothing.
Disappointed it hadn't made the news, it made her happy the target of the attack didn't warrant any publicity. She shredded the investigative report on Chelsea and picked up the one on Reed Carrington.
Reading it for the first time, Lynne sat in shock.
"So, you are one of us,” she muttered.
She read further, seeing where Carrington had grown up. She put the file down, hid it under some other things and sought out her mother.
"Do you remember the Carringtons?"
"Yes, dear,” she said. “Nice people. Why?"
"What about their son?” Lynne asked, wanting to get straight to the reason for her questions.
"Reed?” her mother asked. “Nice boy but kept to himself. He's never been one for the party scene and if he did show up, he didn't stay long. A few of the debs’ mothers wanted him for their daughters but he never had any interest. Why?"
"No reason,” Lynne lied. “I think I met him a few months back."
"Oh? Where?"
"One of the bars near Penn's Landing."
"I wish you'd stop going to those places."
"Mother, they're harmless."
"No, they are not and we've raised you to be better than that."
"Oh, Mother, you worry too much."
Jocilynne left her mother and went back to her room. She reread the file then set her mind to figuring out how to get Carrington.
There has to be a way...
* * * *
Larry Fisher waited for Reed to return. Dan Wheldon took care of shift change then joined Fisher.
They heard Reed's car pull into the station lot, both going to meet their friend. Seeing one of Philly's finest getting out of it instead of Reed stopped them.
"Matt?"
"Here's Reed's keys,” Matt Nicholson said. “Said he'd get the car later."
"Where is he?” Dan asked.
"Jefferson."
"What the hell happened? Is he all right?"
"He's all right,” Matt began, “but somebody beat his lady to a pulp and left her for dead."
"Good, God, no!” Larry said, crossing himself. “Any news?"
"When they went to hospital, she wasn't doing well at all. Hell, I've never seen Reed as white as when he left."
Silence fell over the three of them, no one knowing what to say.
"Guys, this looks like a personal attack. Nothing was taken and everything seemed to have been centered on her desk and the nearby area."
"What are you saying?” Dan asked.
"Do either of you know or have any idea who may have done this?"
Dan had an idea but the thought of a Main Line debutante actually dirtying her hands like this threw him.
"Not at the moment,” Dan said, needing to speak with Reed first.
"If you do, give me a call."
"Sure,” they said together.
"Tell Reed I send my best. No one deserves what she got."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 6
Reed held Chelsea's hand, worried because she'd never felt so cold before. He looked at her battered body wishing he could take away her pain. He kissed her fingers, vowing to put an engagement ring on her ring finger if she survived. He tried being optimistic about everything but he'd been on enough engine assists on medical emergencies as well as accident scenes to know how grave Chelsea's condition was.
As soon as the rig
backed up to the emergency room doors, they took her inside where a trauma team waited.
The nurse standing off to the side recognized the department uniform and tried to ease him away from their patient so the doctors could begin working on her.
"Captain, I know you want to stay with her but we need to..."
"She's so cold,” Reed said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes. “Don't let her die, please."
"You know we'll do everything we can. Why don't you come with me so we can get her admitted?” she said as they watched Chelsea disappear into a sea of doctors, nurses and medics who rushed her into a trauma room.
Feeling lost, he let the nurse lead him to the desk where she asked him questions for Chelsea's admittance.
"Insurance?"
"Send me the bills."
"Captain, I..."
"Send the bills to this address,” he said emphatically as he wrote down his address on the form.
"You're k—"
"No, I'm not and I'd appreciate it if you kept it confidential."
"Yes, sir,” she said, shell-shocked at the upscale address for a Philadelphia fire captain. Whatever his reasons, she admired him. Not many with addresses like his worked a blue-collar job like he did.
"Yes, on all accounts,” he said, reading her thoughts from the expression on the woman's face. “I have the money to pay for whatever I want but I feel better being a firefighter and working for a living."
"I've read about your father. I see he raised a good son."
"I do my best and right now, I need you to do your best to keep my lady alive."
"We will,” she assured him. “We will."
"Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I appreciate it and, if you could run block for me with the press..."
"I definitely will on that. She deserves her privacy and so do you."
Reed nodded, then walked over to the doors to Trauma One. He looked in, closing his eyes and feeling his life slipping away from him. Looking inside again, he saw numerous IVs and monitors hooked up to keep Chelsea alive. He didn't like seeing the respirator breathing for her but understood the need for it.
One of the doctors left her to come out to talk with him.
"I'm Doctor Raines,” he said, introducing himself. “I'm treating Miss Strawbridge. Are you family?"
"We've been living together for a while. How is she?"
"She took a good deal of punishment. I'm sending her upstairs to take care of some internal bleeding and one or two other things. Can you call her family?"
"I can try."
"Good,” Raines said. “Oh, by the way, do you know her doctor's name?"
"She just saw Doctor Judith Hamlin."
"The OB/Gyn?"
"Yes, she told me it was her annual check-up."
"Good, I'll contact her."
"Thanks,” Reed said. “Can you answer something?"
"I'll try."
"Will she make it?"
"She's critical now but I think so. She's been in and out but keeps asking for Reed. Do you..."
"Me."
"Well, if you love her—pray. She needs all the help we can give her."
"Yes, sir. Thanks."
Reed watched the doctor go back into trauma. When they brought Chelsea past him on the way to the elevator, the team gave Reed a few moments with her.
"Chels, if you can hear me, I love you,” he whispered while holding her hand. He kissed her bruised forehead. “I love you, Mistress. Please don't leave me."
The doctor nodded, allowing Reed to walk with her up to the OR. Once there, Reed kissed her again then let them take her into surgery.
"Sir, the lounge is this way."
"Is there a phone in there?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Once he'd been left alone, Reed called the Strawbridges, one of the hardest calls he'd ever had to make.
"Mister Strawbridge, my name is Reed Carrington."
"Yes, my daughter's told us about you. What can I do for you?"
"What I have to say isn't easy but Chelsea's in surgery at Jefferson."
"What the hell happened?"
"Someone attacked her at the gallery earlier this afternoon. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner but..."
"We're on our way."
"Yes, sir,” Reed said, dreading their upcoming meeting.
He'd yet to meet Martin and Madeline Strawbridge. Trying to settle into life with Chelsea while working an offbeat schedule and splitting time between her apartment and his mansion had been hectic at best. They'd been inseparable when not at the gallery or the firehouse, especially in the playroom. It scared him facing the possibility it might end because of someone's malice.
Reed sat down, feeling lightheaded, unable to believe the turn of events. He leaned forward, tears running down his face. Why?
* * * *
Chelsea's mind raced. She couldn't begin to understand why Jocilynne Sommersby came into her life the way she had. Now, agonizing pain took over.
She heard her attacker leave when sirens approached the gallery. Tears came to her eyes, the pain worse. She couldn't move, a myriad of sensations overpowering her. She tried to separate them to give her mind something to do.
Her head felt like it would explode after taking several hard hits while her right eye had swollen shut from one of the initial blows. Her throat hurt where the cording had begun to dig into her skin. Chelsea'd taken so many blows to her body, the ones to her stomach hurting the most and telling her the good news she'd gotten earlier in the day had been momentary at best, Jocilynne Sommersby's hatred taking care of it. Cramping confirmed her thoughts.
Chelsea heard the police break in, relieved. At least she would not be alone. She thought she heard one officer call Reed but couldn't be sure, her headache worsening.
Heat coursed thought her frigid body a short while later, Chelsea realizing Reed had come to her.
"Reed?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Baby,” she whispered, wanting to tell him but unable to get the words out.
"Shh, save your strength."
She needed to tell him so much. She feared never telling him things she knew he needed to know but it hurt too much to speak.
"Cold."
Slivers of ice traveled through her veins and she heard Reed calling for help. She'd never felt this cold before, Chelsea terrified because she couldn't feel the heat Reed always sent through her. Chelsea tried to plead for help but saw darkness instead. No, Reed, don't leave me...
She came to briefly in the hospital seeing bright lights above her. A huge weight across the length of her body held her down but at least she felt a little warmer though loss loomed over her.
"Let's get her to OR,” a strange voice said.
OR? Why? What's wrong?
Doors opened so the medical team could move her. Suddenly, they stopped and she felt Reed's hand take hers. She heard him beg her not to leave him then three little words sent hope coursing through her.
"I love you."
Relief surged through her though she desperately wished she could talk to him. She needed to.
Chelsea felt herself moving again but Reed stayed with her. She felt his kiss on her forehead before his touch disappeared. A few moments later, she lapsed off into darkness seeing visions of Reed in her mind.
* * * *
Once in OR, the surgeon discovered the reason for the bleeding. One of the blows had been hard enough to rupture her spleen. They removed it but during closure, an X-ray technician rushed in to show the surgical team another problem—swelling around her brain. If the pressure could not be relieved, their patient could die.
"Let's get it taken care of while she's under. Who is on?"
"Mercer,” she said. “He's scrubbing now."
"Excellent."
A short time later, Mercer had relieved the pressure on Chelsea's brain and supervised the bandaging after closing. As he finished, another doctor entered.
"Doctor Mercer, I'm Judith H
amlin."
"Yes?"
"How is she?"
"She'll survive. She had one hell of a bruise to her brain requiring us to relieve pressure. She's had a splenectomy and seems to be holding her own."
"Anything in the report mention abnormal bleeding?"
"Yes, here it is,” Raines replied, joining them.
"Damn it!"
"What, Doctor?"
"She miscarried."
"What?"
"I gave her the news this morning. She's at least three to four weeks into it—or was."
"It's a shame,” Raines said, “But we knew that would have happened in here. That was a great deal of anesthesia for..."
"I know,” Hamlin agreed. “I just don't want to be the one who has to tell her."
"Judith, I think she already knew,” Raines said. “She rambled on in the emergency room about it. Something about being sorry or something like that."
"Damn,” she cursed. “Did he get here yet?"
"If you mean her boyfriend—he's in the lounge. He came in with her."
"I'd better go talk to him."
"Tell him I'll be out in a few moments after I clean up."
"I will,” she said.
"You can't miss him—he's white as a ghost."
* * * *
"Excuse me, are you Reed?"
"Yes, ma'am,” he answered, standing to meet the woman who'd just joined him.
"I'm Doctor Judith Hamlin, Chelsea's OB/Gyn. Her other doctors will be out in a few minutes to speak with you."
He nodded, confusion in his eyes.
"How is she?"
"She's been through a great deal. What I'm concerned about is how she'll react to the news she miscarried."
"Miscarried? She was pregnant?” Reed asked, paling more.
"My God, I thought by the way she talked on the phone she'd told you already. She was so happy when I gave her the news this morning. I am so sorry ... I..."
"It's all right,” he said, then fell silent.
"Are you all right?"
"I think she tried to tell me while we waited for the medics to arrive. She spoke single words—my name, baby and cold. I thought baby meant me but she's never called me that. If anything, it's been me calling her that."
"It's quite possible. I learned in a psych course a few years back that at the moment they're closest to death in extraordinary situations, the patient or victim will say words that are extremely important to their being at that exact moment. I never knew if it was true or not."
