Deep Night (6 page)

“You handled that well.” Sara typed in the results of the call as Chris drove. She was very impressed by how quickly he was learning the job.

“Thanks. I've got a great teacher.” He flashed a wide smile.

She looked away quickly, knowing the effect his smiles had on her but not wanting him to suspect anything. This whole roomie thing was turning out to be a lot tougher than she had anticipated. She had thought her silly teenage crush was long gone. It had been years since she'd seen him, but she had kept up with him through his family.

Because of her job, she often crossed paths with both of his brothers. They were kind enough to include her at their barbecues or even just hanging out around the pool at their homes. Mrs. Wilson even invited her to holiday dinners, and Sara had usually accepted. Her mother was dead, and her father had moved to Florida years ago, so the Wilsons were the closest to family that she had.

But when Chris had come home a year ago and again joined in on family functions, he and Sara had been thrown together as the only two who never had dates. It had worked out well for both of them. They were comfortable together, but their renewed relationship had never moved out of that old childhood buddy zone. She thought that would keep the tension down both when they shared an ambulance and now with the apartment.

For him, it apparently was easy. For her…not so much.

She found herself staring at him when he was bent over his laptop, working on a paper. Or when he had just come out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair all wet and rumpled. Or on shift, when his profile was silhouetted against the dark of the night.

“Female has fallen down a flight of stairs and is unconscious at 2868 Fulton Street. RP is husband. He's on scene. Sending PD, Fire and EMS. Ambulance 25, please respond.”

“Ambulance 25 en route.” Sara replaced the mic. She flipped on the lights and siren as Chris merged onto Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.

“Kind of early in the morning to be falling down stairs,” Chris commented.

Sara glanced at the clock on the computer screen and saw it was almost four a.m. In-home accidents didn't usually occur at this time of the night. She had a bad feeling about this one. “I'm going to call for a victim's advocate.”

Chris chanced a sharp look at her. “You think it's a domestic?”

She hoped she was wrong, but she had a gut instinct about these things. Her nod was stiff. “I hope I'm wrong.”

Sara picked up the mic and requested a victim's advocate to meet them on scene. She had no idea who would actually show up, but she hoped it would be Julie, who was the head of the advocate department and also Rusty's fiancée. Julie had been working with the Denver PD for about five years, so she and Sara had known each other long before Julie and Rusty hooked up. Julie was an expert on domestic violence, and she would know right away if this call was questionable.

They pulled into the driveway of the newer two-story house just as Sara was hanging up the mic. A fire truck was parked at the curb. As usual, the firefighters were the first ones on the scene, because there were a lot more fire stations than paramedics in the city. But all the firefighters had some level of EMT training, so they could assess the situation and possibly stabilize the patient until the medics arrived.

Chris and Sara were barely out of the ambulance when an attractive man in his early to mid-thirties came running out of the house.

“Hurry, my wife is unconscious.” He motioned for them to follow him.

As Sara picked up their kit, she and Chris exchanged a skeptical look. So far it could still go either way. The man seemed genuinely concerned, but that wasn't uncommon with abusive spouses. Most were immediately remorseful after an attack…but never enough to keep it from happening again.

A patrol car arrived and the cop joined them as they all walked up the steps to the front door.

The firemen stepped aside as soon as Sara and Chris entered the house. Lying crumpled like a broken doll on the floor at the bottom of the staircase was a woman. Her leg was bent at an unnatural angle and one arm was twisted under her back. Sara and Chris pulled on their gloves and knelt next to her.

Sara gently pressed her fingertips to the woman's neck. “There's a pulse, but it's weak.”

Sara looked up the steep stairs that went straight to the second floor. “How did she fall?”

“She said she was hungry and was going downstairs to get something to eat. I was still in bed and almost asleep when I heard her scream and her body thumping down the stairs.” For just an instant, the man's eyes shifted away before he forced himself to meet Sara's steady gaze. “I jumped out of bed and found her…like this.”

“I'll get the gurney,” Chris volunteered, and one of the firemen left with him.

The woman's long blond hair covered her face, and Sara brushed it aside. She opened each eyelid and shined a light in to check the pupils. They responded normally. But the woman's beautiful face was a mess. Her nose was broken and there were dark purple bruises on both cheeks and her forehead. “Where did she get these bruises?” Sara asked.

The man's expression didn't change. “She took a hard fall…probably face-first.”

Some of the bruises were fresh, while some were days old with tinges of yellow around their edges, but Sara didn't point that out. They would be well documented at the hospital and the woman, when she awoke…
if
she awoke…could provide the real answers. It would serve no purpose for Sara to antagonize this guy. Right now, the victim was her patient, and that was the priority. “What's her name?”

“Beth,” the man answered.

Chris and the firefighter returned with the gurney and a scoop stretcher that unfastened at both ends so it could be slipped under a patient and refastened, preventing rescuers from having to lift a badly hurt person without knowing the extent of the injuries. Chris gently strapped a cervical collar around Beth's neck and prepared her for transfer. She weighed barely more than a hundred pounds, but in her unconscious condition, she was dead weight, and it took Chris and two firefighters to fasten the scoop under her while not causing worse damage to her broken limbs. They had just raised her to the gurney and were strapping her down when Julie arrived.

“I'll get her loaded,” Chris told Sara, freeing her so she could go talk to Julie.

Julie looked down at the woman's battered face and frowned. “She hasn't said anything, I assume.”

“Thanks for coming,” Sara told her. “No, she's still unconscious, but she seems stable. I'm concerned because her pulse is weak and thready and with several broken bones, we're running the risk of blood clots.”

The man, his hand resting on the woman's arm, followed the gurney out to the ambulance, allowing the two women to talk freely.

“She's taken quite a beating…and not all tonight, by the looks of it,” Julie commented.

“That's what I thought, too.”

A rustle of clothing behind them caused Sara and Julie to turn around. Hiding partially behind the doorframe, a girl, probably around ten or eleven, wearing a thin, sleeveless nightgown stood. Her blond hair, so like her mother's, hung around her shoulders, almost to her waist. A rapidly melting chocolate ice-cream cone dripped over her hand and plopped in small brown puddles on the hardwood floor.

“Is my mama going to die?”

Sara knelt in front of the girl. “We're taking her to the hospital so she can get the best care possible. Why are you up so late?”

The girl dropped her head forward until her long hair completely hid her face. “Daddy woke me up.”

“Do you like ice cream?” Sara asked.

“No…I hate it, but…” She lifted her face and for a moment her big, sad eyes bored into Sara's.

“You can tell me anything,” Sara prompted gently. “Maybe I can help you.”

The girl's eyes shifted furtively. “I…uh…my dad…” Her mouth snapped shut and she took a step backward.

Sara followed the girl's gaze and saw that the father had just walked back into the house.

“They're waiting for you,” he told Sara, a little impatiently. “I'll meet you at the hospital.”

“Do you have someone we can call to come over here so your daughter won't be alone?” Julie asked. “Or better yet, is there a relative she can stay with…until your wife recovers? I'm sure you're going to spend a lot of time at the hospital.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.” He pulled out his phone. “Her grandmother lives a few blocks from here.”

“Call her, and I'll wait here until she arrives,” Julie volunteered, then turned to the girl. “Come on, let's get some things packed for your trip to Grandma's. But first, let's throw out that ice cream and get you cleaned up.”

The dad frowned, but nodded. As he dialed the phone, his gaze never left the little girl.

“We're taking her to Denver Health,” Sara told him. “Just check in with the emergency room clerk.” She looked over at Julie, who gave her a nod. Sara knew Julie would make sure the little girl was safe before she left. This was likely a case for Family Services, but they would need a solid reason. Maybe once they were alone, the girl would confide in Julie. Sara was pretty sure she had been on the verge of admitting something until her father came into earshot.

Sara picked up their kit and hurried out to the ambulance. Chris was waiting impatiently at the back. He gave her a curious look, but she whispered a quick, “I'll tell you later. Are you riding in the back?”

Chris nodded, and Sara waited until he had climbed inside before she firmly shut the back doors. She then climbed into the cab and started the engine. It wasn't like her to slough off on her duties with a patient, but she and Chris had been working together long enough for him to know it had to be something important.

She flipped on the lights and siren, called in that she was transporting, and drove into the night.

By the time they got the woman transferred to a hospital bed, filled the doctor in on what they knew…which wasn't much…and returned to the bus barn to clean up the ambulance, their shift was over. The sun was sending streaks of light between the buildings and sparkling off the glass towers of downtown as they drove away from the hospital and headed to the apartment.

Now that they shared an apartment, it made sense that they carpool. Once back at the building, Chris parked in the underground garage. He took his workout gear from the backseat.

“Going to the gym?” he asked when Sara didn't get her bag.

“Nah, I'm too tired. I'm going to take a hot shower and hit the sack,” she told him. The truth of it was that she couldn't get that little girl out of her mind. The dad had arrived at the hospital about ten minutes after the ambulance. Sara called Julie, who assured her the little girl's grandmother seemed to be genuinely concerned when she arrived, and that she had taken the girl. But the girl hadn't confided anything, even when Julie, who had picked up on Sara's suspicions, asked very leading questions.

“
I did everything but come right out and ask her if he was abusing her, but she had completely shut down
,” Julie had reported.

“My guess is that he woke the little girl up, abused her, then gave her ice cream as a treat. The mom caught him, they fought and she fell…or was pushed down the stairs,” Sara responded, angry and frustrated that unless the wife or the girl talked, the father would get away with it.

“And you're probably one hundred percent correct,” Julie agreed. “But there wasn't any proof.
I checked her out when she was changing clothes, and I didn't see any bruises or marks of any kind on her arms and legs.
”

But Sara knew that wasn't where the marks would be. Men like the girl's father knew what to do so there would be no outward signs. All the scars were out of sight. Julie knew that, too, but she could do only so much without any evidence.

Chris hesitated. He knew something was bothering Sara, but she waved him away. “I'll be fine. I'm just exhausted.”

He looped his gym bag's strap over his shoulder and headed out of the garage to the street. The gym was less than a block away, so it was a short walk.

Sara rode the elevator up to the third floor and was barely able to make it inside the apartment. She hung her backpack on the coatrack and went straight to the bathroom and threw up. Ten minutes later, after a scalding shower, she towel-dried her short blond hair, pulled on her robe and closed herself in her bedroom. Quickly, she pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt, turned on the ceiling fan and the sound machine and crawled under the covers.

No matter how hard their shift had been, Chris liked to spend at least an hour in the gym. Somehow the mindless repetition worked through the horrors he had seen on the streets. The smell of sweat, dirty gym clothes and Gatorade helped to push aside the stench of blood and vomit that had filled his nostrils during the night.

They called the late shift Deep Night, not just because of its middle-of-the-night hours, but because of the intense darkness and the desperation of the people who needed help at that time of night when most people were asleep in their…or someone else's…bed. Deep Night was when tragedy struck. It was all about what happened when inhibitions and resistance were low and truth was a rare commodity. Alcohol, drugs and boredom made a dangerous mix that often resulted in serious injuries or death. And almost always a lot of blood.

He jogged for ten miles on the treadmill and worked on the resistance machines until his muscles ached and his mind was blank. Feeling emotionally cleansed, he was able to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face as he walked back to the apartment. All he was thinking about now was a shower, a bowl of cereal and a few hours of sleep. Today was the beginning of their three days off, and in late afternoon they had to leave for Julie and Rusty's wedding. Afterward, he hoped to get in a little studying, and maybe sneak in a nap. He had been trying Sara's schedule by sleeping during the day and staying up at night, but he still wasn't completely transitioned.

Chris tried to be quiet as he entered the apartment. He could hear the steady rhythm of waves coming from Sara's room, so he guessed she was asleep. He peeled off his sweaty gym clothes in the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The hot water felt great, and his skin was tingling when he got out. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he stood at the bar and shoveled heaping spoonfuls of multi-grain cereal into his mouth. He was drinking the milk out of the bowl when a terrified scream came from Sara's bedroom.

He dropped the bowl with a clatter and crossed the room in four long strides. Without even thinking about it, he opened her door.

The drapes were wide open, allowing unfiltered sunlight to stream in through the tall windows. The crashing waves echoed around the room and Sara lay in the middle of the bed, curled into a fetal position, crying in her sleep.

Chris hesitated. She was clearly having a nightmare. He didn't know whether he should awaken her and risk making her mad because he had come into her room uninvited, or if he should simply shut the door and let her work her way through the dream alone.

It was the very real pain in her whimpers that drew him in. He couldn't let her suffer through whatever she was experiencing.

“Sara,” he said in a loud whisper, not wanting to startle her. When she didn't respond, he stepped closer and called out her name again. She shifted, but didn't wake up.

Funny, he could handle running out to help a wounded soldier in the middle of a firefight or revive a person who was near death, but dealing with a sobbing female made him feel awkward and clumsy. Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Sara, wake up. You're having a nightmare.”

To his shock, she bolted to a sitting position. Her blue eyes were cloudy and unfocused. She blinked and tried to fight her way out of the dream. “What…what are you doing here?”

“You were screaming…and crying,” he tried to explain.

“I was?” Her voice shook.

“You must have been having quite a nightmare.”

She shivered as the details of the bad dream came back. Although she didn't move, she seemed to shrink in size.

Chris could almost feel the terror oozing from her. He tried to lighten the mood. “What was it…zombies? Vampires? Clowns?”

She actually managed a little smile. “Zombie clowns,” she replied. “I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, I just got out of the shower.” He motioned down to his near-naked body.

She looked startled as if seeing, for the first time, that he was wearing only a towel. She inched away from him as if he were contagious. “Uh…I'll be fine now.”

She had clearly dismissed him. He slid off the bed, careful not to let the towel gap open and reveal even more skin. He couldn't help but look around. “How can you sleep with all this light?”

Sara hesitated, then admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, “I can't sleep in the dark.”

There was clearly more than she was telling him. He knew he could walk out the door and leave her to her nightmares…or he could try to help her work through it. He eased back down on the bed and leaned against the headboard, his legs crossed to keep his towel closed. “Want to talk about it?”

She didn't pretend not to know what he was referring to. She hesitated, as if trying to decide whether to insist he leave or to answer his question. Finally, she relaxed and settled against the headboard, careful to keep several inches between herself and Chris. “That little girl just broke my heart. He's abusing her,” she stated flatly.

“How do you know that?”

“You didn't see the hollowness in her eyes. She feels trapped.” Sara's hands tightened into fists.

Chris remained silent, sensing that if he spoke, she wouldn't continue.

Sara frowned with genuine concern. “She was afraid of him. We were talking, but as soon as he came back into the house, she shut down. And he was very proprietary about her. He didn't want us to talk to her, and he definitely didn't want her to go stay with someone else.”

“What did they say when you reported it?”

“Yes, and they said they'd look into it. But I know they don't like to get involved without knowing there's an issue. Everyone's too litigious now.”

“We can talk to Sam about it at the wedding. Maybe he can push an investigation. Hopefully, the father will stop now that he's being watched.”

Sara shook her head slowly. “He won't stop,” she whispered.

She spoke with such conviction that Chris turned to look at her and saw that she was crying. Big tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped off onto her Broncos T-shirt. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. Surprisingly, she didn't push away, but allowed herself to be held against his broad chest.

He could feel the wetness of her tears on his skin and the trembling of her shoulders. He tightened his grip, protecting her in the circle of his arms. He didn't know what he was protecting her from, but he sensed it was deep, dark and very painful. All he could do was be there for her until she was ready to talk about it.

After several minutes, she grew still, and Chris was beginning to wonder if she had fallen asleep. He shifted slightly and felt the warmth of her breast press against his chest. It was full and firm and very feminine. Only the thin cotton of her T-shirt separated them. In spite of his best intentions, his hormones betrayed him as he became achingly aware that his childhood friend had grown up to be a well-developed young woman. Her hair beneath his chin was silky and smelled fresh and faintly of some kind of flowery shampoo. His fingers stroked her arm, gently, tentatively. Her skin was soft, and she felt tiny and fragile.

Funny how he'd never really thought of her as either female or fragile. He wasn't the most observant guy on the planet, but those were important details to overlook. She had always been one of the guys and seemed quite content with that classification. Clearly, things had changed.

Chris was a normal, healthy male, and it had been a long time since he had held a barely clad woman in his arms. He could feel the heat building in his loins and his dick swelled beneath the towel. His hand slid down her back. Her T-shirt had ridden up, exposing a wide expanse of bare skin at her waist. But as soon as he actually touched it, she stiffened and jerked away so quickly, he almost fell off the bed.

Her eyes were wide and panicky as she skittered to the very edge, as far away as she could get without actually standing up. She pulled the comforter up to her chest like a shield. “You should leave now. We…uh…need to get some sleep.”

Chris stood, holding the towel shut over his erection and trying to hide it from her. It was the most awkward near-walk-of-shame that he had ever had. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked, feeling guilty that his good intentions had gotten sidetracked.

“I'm fine. I was just upset that I couldn't do more to help that little girl.”

Somehow he knew this wasn't all about that little girl, but Sara wasn't encouraging any more discussion on the subject. “Okay, we need to leave by six.” He tried desperately to pull the moment back into a neutral zone. The last thing he wanted was to screw this up by making her uncomfortable.