‘SHE’S one out of the box, isn’t she?’
‘Sure is.’
The response was deliberately casual but Hawk cast a swift glance at the senior officer standing by his side. Lance Currie did not appear to be making any reference to an illicit liaison between colleagues, however. He was too busy watching Charlotte as she was being positioned in front of television cameras. An episode of Crimewatch was being filmed, having been chosen as a means of appealing for information from the public in an attempt to solve the hit-and-run case that had claimed the life of Jim Patterson two weeks ago.
‘Smart, too. I know you had doubts about working with someone with Charlie’s qualifications, but I wasn’t wrong, was I?’
‘Nope.’ Hawk had no arguments with that statement. ‘She’s good.’
‘Good enough for you to go to the trouble of persuading us to buy that incredibly expensive toy for her. Has it been used yet?’
‘It was very helpful when we were assessing someone who refused to go in an ambulance after a crash last week.’
‘We?’ Currie raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
‘Charlie’s been giving me a crash course in patient assessment.’ It was more difficult to sound casual now. While those out-of-hours sessions were quite serious in content, there was no need to conceal the more private communication that was adding a distinct piquancy to their working relationship these days.
‘Oh?’ The suggestive tone was a relief. Clearly, Currie did not suspect anything because he was enjoying this opportunity to try and get a rise out of Hawk. He gave his superior officer a very bland look.
‘It’s not a nice feeling not to have any idea what to do other than call for an ambulance when someone’s sick or injured. I’m just making the most of an unexpected resource to gain a few new skills.’
‘We have workplace first-aid courses available, you know.’ Currie couldn’t resist the opportunity to point out the correct station protocol for such an issue. ‘I’ve done more than one myself.’
‘And would you recognise the difference between ventricular tachycardia and ventricular fibrillation, boss? Or know what the significance is?’
The signal for quiet in the studio was the ideal way to terminate this discussion. Currie didn’t have to admit he knew nothing about cardiac rhythms and Hawk no longer had to tread through any kind of verbal minefield. They both turned their gazes in the same direction the cameras were pointing.
Charlotte gave a succinct history of the incident using a map and computerised reconstruction. Then she spoke directly into the camera.
‘Someone must know something,’ she said persuasively. ‘We know this vehicle was a red Ford Laser. An early 1980s model. We know what damage the car suffered.’
As prearranged, the camera view now changed to the table where the SCS had laid out the pieces of evidence collected from the scene. Charlotte moved to the table with a grace that belied the nervousness Hawk knew she was feeling.
‘The left-hand front indicator light was smashed. The wing mirror was snapped off. It’s quite possible the windscreen was damaged with what could have been a starburst pattern of cracks.’
Hawk glanced away from the live scene in front of him to where a bank of monitors displayed what was being filmed. Charlotte had refused to have her hair and makeup done for the segment, but it made no difference as far as Hawk was concerned. She looked gorgeous. He loved seeing her looking so professional in a crisp clean uniform with her hair tied back. He loved it because he knew what she looked like with no uniform on and he could imagine the slim, taut planes of her body beneath the clothing. And he knew what that magnificent hair was like when released from that long twisted rope. The way it rippled across her bare back…the way it felt when he pushed his hands into the tresses and used a length wound around a hand to bring her face close enough to kiss.
With some difficulty, Hawk concentrated on what Charlotte was saying now.
‘This incident happened two weeks ago. Maybe the car hasn’t been taken to a garage for repairs yet.’
Quite apart from her physical attributes, Charlotte was projecting both competence and intelligence. Currie was looking on with almost paternal pride and Hawk had the curious sensation of what could only be described as jealousy. Charlotte was his partner. He was the one who should be feeling proud of her. And he was. He just had to ensure his expression remained impassive. He didn’t want Elsie, or anyone else, picking up on any undercurrents.
‘Maybe this car is parked on your street,’ Charlotte was saying now. ‘Or in your neighbour’s back yard. We want to find the driver of this vehicle and we need your help.’ Her deliberate pause may have been due to nerves but it made the rest of her plea for assistance far more effective. ‘A man died as a result of this incident and he died alone.’ Large, golden-brown eyes stared into the camera with an authority that made even Lance Currie shift his feet a fraction. ‘Leaving the scene of an accident without offering assistance or notifying authorities is a crime. This is a case of manslaughter and we’re asking for you to help us solve it.’
The free phone line numbers available for the public to pass information on to the police were given out again and Charlotte left the studio area as the commercial break was signalled. She grimaced theatrically as she approached Hawk and Currie.
‘I have no idea how that came across. Was it terrible?’
‘It was OK,’ Hawk said reassuringly.
He earned an impatient snort from Currie who then turned to Charlotte with a wide smile. ‘It wasn’t “OK”, Charlie. It was fantastic. If we don’t get a few leads after that, I’ll eat my hat.’
Charlotte returned the smile but then sucked in her breath audibly. ‘I hate television interviews,’ she said. ‘Next time it’ll be your turn, Hawk.’
‘We’re far more likely to get a response from people seeing you.’
‘Why? Because I’m a chick?’ Charlotte’s tone was challenging enough to make Currie scowl.
‘When are you two going to stop bickering and realise what a tight unit you’ve become in the last two months? For heaven’s sake, Hawk, I would have thought the issue of you working with a female officer should have been long since buried.’
The briefest glance that flashed between Hawk and Charlotte was still enough to share satisfaction that their secret was still safe. If Lance had any idea just what a tight team they had recently become, he wouldn’t be congratulating them right now. He would be demanding a resignation from at least one of them.
‘You guys are getting known far and wide for the speed and thoroughness of your investigations. I’m getting requests to have you deployed to solve some of the sticky cases other areas have sitting in their files.’
‘We’ve got quite enough work to do here,’ Hawk reminded him.
‘Don’t I know it. It might be possible to have one of you available as a consultant if we had an extra team member, though.’
‘You’re thinking of expanding the team?’ Charlotte didn’t sound keen and Hawk could share the sentiment. They worked so well together because they were together. Just the two of them. Having a sizzling affair ongoing in their private lives had, if anything, made it easier to work together. The distraction of overwhelming desire had gone from work hours because they both knew it would be satisfied as soon as they reached a private space.
‘It’s just a thought.’ Currie glanced at the team manning the phone lines. ‘They look busy. Let’s go and see if any useful information has come in.’
Hawk checked his watch. Crimewatch had only a few minutes to run, which was a relief. Very soon, he and Charlotte would be able to escape. Together. Thank goodness that plump paramedic, Laura, was still caught up in that weird babysitting situation. The fact that Charlotte was living in Laura’s house gave them a retreat that was almost neutral. It enabled Hawk to keep his personal, professional and passionate lives remarkably separate, and that suited him just fine.
He had everything under control. While it was surprising that the novelty of a sexual relationship with Charlotte hadn’t even begun to lose any of its appeal, despite the amount of indulgence in the last fortnight, Hawk still wasn’t bothered by any resurgence of those alarm bells. This was still a temporary interlude in his life, just as all his affairs in recent years had been but, by God, he was going to make the most of it while it lasted.
‘They’ve found the driver.’
‘What driver?’
‘The hit and run. He’s been arrested thanks to a lead from a call to Crimewatch. Elsie’s rapt.’
‘Really? That’s great!’
But Charlotte didn’t look delighted for very long. Hawk raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s up?’
‘Just a bit of a crisis at home. I need to ring Laura and make sure she’s OK.’
‘Why wouldn’t she be?’
‘She came back home just after you left last night. She was a bit upset.’
‘Oh?’ Hawk looked disconcerted at the news. ‘Why?’
‘The wheels have fallen off. The baby’s mother came back. She wants the baby…and the fireman.’
‘Oh. I guess Laura isn’t too happy, then.’
‘You don’t look too happy about it either, Hawk.’
‘I don’t want to seem unsympathetic with your friend’s plight or anything, but it will make things a bit awkward for us, won’t it? When we want to…I mean, when we’re not at work.’
‘Maybe you’ll just have to shovel up the piles of dirty socks you’ve got lying around at your place. Or is there something else you don’t want me to see?’ It hadn’t bothered Charlotte that Hawk had never invited her to stay at his place. OK, maybe once hadn’t been enough, but this was still just a brief fling after all. A trial period before she started a new phase of her life. So why was she feeling suddenly anxious? Would the change in arrangements be enough for Hawk to call a halt to their out-of-hours liaison?
‘I don’t have piles of dirty socks,’ Hawk told her. ‘And people in glass houses shouldn’t be chucking rocks.’ He cast a pointed glance at her desk and Charlotte grinned.
She was still smiling as she reached for her pager which had sounded an urgent summons. ‘Priority one to the airport,’ she said. ‘What’s that about, do you think? A plane crash?’
‘Details to follow.’ Hawk snapped his pager back into its holder clipped to his belt. ‘Let’s go, Charlie.’
The phone call from Lance came as they were speeding towards the airport. Charlotte clicked on the speaker-phone attachment so they could both hear what was being said.
‘There’s a mass casualty incident just outside Hamilton,’ Lance told them grimly. ‘Train versus bus. We’re sending some resources to back up what’s coming from Auckland and I’ve agreed to send you two. You can catch a ride with the rescue helicopter that’ll be taking off in ten minutes. You’ll need to get your skates on.’
‘We’re nearly there.’ Hawk blipped the siren as they negotiated an intersection and then turned it off so they could still hear Currie. The squad car’s flashing beacons were still warning traffic of their rapid progress. ‘Why us, boss?’
‘Sounds messy and there’s going to be huge media coverage. There’s already a fuss going on about state maintenance of railway lines and some of the bus passengers include the immediate family of an All Black. Witness accounts are already contradictory. We need to get this investigation under way, pronto.’
‘What’s contradictory?’ Charlotte queried. Interest in an MCI would be huge even without the background of a political issue or the personal involvement of a sporting hero. The more information they could get upfront, the better they would be able to handle both the investigation and any media pressure.
‘Someone says the signals weren’t working but another witness says a car had stopped at the crossing and the bus just ploughed into the back of it—shunted it clear, hard enough to flip it and then caught the train smack on the tail end of the bus. Half the train was derailed.’
‘Good grief!’ Hawk took a turn-off well before the airport terminal buildings. ‘How many fatalities?’
‘Ten and counting. There’s still quite a few people trapped in a couple of the train carriages. A USAR team has been deployed to assist extrication. Things should be more under control by the time you get there, but do what you can. Good luck!’
‘Thanks.’ Hawk raised his hand to thank the airport security guard manning the gate leading directly to the area of runway designated for the rescue helicopter. ‘We might need it.’
The aerial view of the incident they gained on approach was helpful in getting a perspective of the incident. It was also horrific. The snake of train carriages had a large crumpled kink that had to contain the wreckage of many human lives. The passenger bus lay on its side, the rear half-crushed. The wheels of an overturned sedan could also be seen but the evidence of death and destruction was now only part of a much larger picture.
Dozens of rescue vehicles were dotted over the scene like pieces on a vast board game. Fire appliances, ambulances, police vehicles—including a huge command centre truck. The bright colours of other rescue helicopters were nearby, and Hawk’s and Charlotte’s pilot was waiting for one to take off before going in to land himself.
Charlotte recognised the long igloo shape of a triage station the ambulance service had erected, and as they swooped lower she could even see the whiteboards outside that would be keeping the details of patient numbers and their status as current as possible. Hundreds of people milled about but what made the whole scene horribly real was the sight of the injured still being carried or helped towards the triage tent and, worse, a stretcher with the body completely draped bypassing the treatment area on its journey to another enclosure.
Charlotte turned to Hawk, suddenly scared of the enormity of what they were now facing. She had to shout over the noise of the rotors.
‘This is huge.’
Hawk simply nodded, his eyes reflecting the grim reality Charlotte wasn’t sure she was ready to face. Then he reached out and gripped her hand. ‘We’ll stay together,’ he shouted back. ‘We can handle this.’
And Charlotte squeezed back. Of course they could. In Hawk’s company she could handle anything. She would just have to make sure they didn’t get separated.
But separating them was the first thing the incident commander decided on.
‘You’re a paramedic, right?’
Charlotte nodded. ‘But I’m here with Hawk in my capacity as a crash investigator.’
‘We need you more as a paramedic right now. We’ve got other investigators who can work with Officer Hawkins. I want to put you with the USAR team that’s dealing with trapped victims on the train. There’s too many priority-one people still out there for our medics to cope with.’
So Charlotte was taken away and kitted out with medical supplies, overalls and protective gear, including goggles and a hard hat. She met the group of Urban Search and Rescue personnel that included civil defence and fire officers.
‘We’ve just gained access to the last carriage,’ the squad leader informed her. ‘They’ve triaged and started moving the accessible patients but there’s at least one person trapped under some crushed seating at one end.’
The USAR headquarters was close to the main command area for incident management. Charlotte’s attention was caught as they walked towards the train by a shower of brightly coloured cardboard tickets. Someone had tripped over a guy rope and a boxful of triage labels sent flying. Seeing something that she had used only in training exercises gave her another jolt of reality.
There were four colours of the large tickets with labelled spaces for information and a soft elastic band for attaching them to a patient’s wrist or ankle. Fluorescent pink signified priority-one casualties, who were considered to have life-threatening injuries and needed the most urgent treatment and transport. Orange labels were for those who needed treatment prior to transport but whose lives would not be at risk if they weren’t attended to in the shortest time frame possible. Orange labels could easily be upgraded to pink ones, however, if the patient’s condition deteriorated.
Green labels were the priority-three patients with minor injuries who would be kept in a holding area and medically assessed before leaving the scene. And white labels were for the deceased. White labels could also be used for those with injuries so severe that they would require too much time and too many resources to attempt resuscitation in an MCI scenario. Charlotte was very glad she wasn’t the one to have to try and make that kind of judgement today.
Near the junior ambulance officer, who was trying to collect the cards being further scattered by a stiff breeze, sat a woman with a green label on her wrist. A police officer who had been standing beside the hunched figure moved to help catch the triage labels and the woman looked up in time to catch Charlotte’s stare. She felt the anguish in the eye contact like a physical blow. The green label on the woman’s wrist fluttered as she scrambled to her feet.
‘Are you going into the train?’
Charlotte gave a brief nod. She could see the police officer watching the woman’s movements.
‘My baby’s in there. They can’t find him. They think he might be dead but it’s not true. It can’t be true.’ The woman clutched Charlotte’s arm. ‘Please…bring him out to me. I’m not leaving without my baby.’
The police officer took the woman’s other arm. ‘Come and wait back here, Sarah. Someone’s on the way to help you.’
Shaken, Charlotte continued her journey and within a short period of time she was too busy to think of the woman with the green label. Or of what Hawk might be doing. Three people still in the carriage were wearing pink labels and Charlotte found herself temporarily separated from the USAR team as she assisted first one ambulance crew and then another.
A man with broken ribs and a tension pneumothorax needed a chest needle decompression before he succumbed to a respiratory arrest. An elderly woman had lacerations to her forehead, an open fracture of her left humerus and was pale and sweaty as she told her rescuers it was her crushing, central chest pain that was her chief complaint. Charlotte administered oxygen, aspirin, GTN and morphine before they settled the woman into a Stokes basket to be carried away for urgent further assessment and treatment.
Through a carriage window, Charlotte saw Hawk walking past the command centre at one point in the company of several police photographers. Their route must have taken them past the young mother who was still sitting nearby. Despite the urgency and drama of treating the critical patients, the thought of that missing baby had remained at the back of Charlotte’s mind and, even though it was probably pointless, she had found herself looking for any signs of the missing infant as she moved between patients.
The anguish the baby’s mother was experiencing epitomised the feeling of this whole incident for Charlotte. She had never had a baby herself—probably never would—but she could imagine the depth of that bond and how devastating such a loss would be. And how excruciating such a wait must be, trying to hold onto a hope that one’s worst fears would not be realised. Why hadn’t something been done to help her yet? They must have grief counsellors or victim-support services available on scene by now. Had Hawk noticed her? Spoken to her, maybe?
‘Over here, Charlie. We need a hand with a log roll.’
A teenage girl had a cervical injury. She had no sensation in her legs and pins and needles in both arms. Her breathing was abdominal and becoming laboured as her panic increased. Then Charlotte was called to the end of the carriage to rejoin the USAR team as a trapped victim was extricated from beneath mangled seating. The man was alive but his abdominal injuries were severe enough to warrant a pink tag.
It was beginning to get dark as the final victim was being freed from the carriage Charlotte was working in. Suddenly, things became chaotic.
‘We need the USAR guys. Somebody heard something coming from under the carriage over there.’
Charlotte felt the same surge of adrenaline that prompted the rapid exodus of the USAR team. Had the baby been found? Alive? The bustle of movement around the man-made gap that now provided access to her carriage created enough of a new problem to distract her.
‘Careful!’ she warned. ‘Mind that sharp edge! The IV line’s—’
But her cry came too late. The IV line had been ripped clear and her patient’s arm was bleeding profusely.
‘Wait! Put him down,’ Charlotte ordered the team of army personnel carrying the stretcher. She pulled open the pouch at her waist as she dropped to a crouch. ‘Damn!’
‘Can I help?’
‘Hawk!’ Charlotte now had a wad of dressing pressed to the wound. ‘Where did you spring from?’
‘Light’s getting too bad to do much more. We’ll be finishing the scene maps tomorrow. What’s happening here?’
‘This line got ripped out. Can you put one of these gloves on and keep pressure on this while I put a new one in?’
‘Why don’t we get him into the triage tent?’ One of the young soldiers was watching the crowed gathering around the carriage the USAR team had been deployed to.
‘Because he’s my patient,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘And he needs a patent IV urgently. This is only going to take thirty seconds.’ She glanced up from pulling supplies from her pouch. Hawk’s fingers of one hand were wrapped firmly around the patient’s elbow. His other hand was untangling the line leading to the bag of fluids.
‘Thanks, Hawk.’ Charlotte was working swiftly. She tugged a tourniquet tight on the man’s other arm and swabbed the inside of his elbow. ‘It was hard enough getting the first line in. He’s as flat as a pancake. If this doesn’t work, I’ll have to cannulate the jugular.’
‘It’ll work,’ Hawk said calmly.
And it did. A doctor from the triage area arrived just as Charlotte reconnected the bag of fluid seconds later. She pumped up the pressure cuff to keep the flow as high as possible.
‘Is this the guy with the abdominal trauma?’
‘Yes. GCS of 7, BP unrecordable. Tachycardic. Chest’s clear, though.’
‘How much fluid have you got in so far?’
‘Only a litre. Supply got interrupted for a minute or two here.’
‘You’ve done well,’ the doctor said. ‘Thanks. We’ll take over now. Looks like it’s time you took a break.’
‘OK.’ Charlotte straightened wearily and then turned back to the carriage. ‘I’ll just collect the rest of my gear.’
To her surprise, Hawk followed her as she climbed through what remained of the central aisle.
‘Did you find a baby in here?’
‘No.’ Charlotte shook her head.
‘There’s a woman who’s been sitting out there for hours. She must have slipped through the net for the support services or something. She wants her baby.’
‘I know. I’ve kept an eye out for it but it might not have been this carriage they were in.’
‘She says it was.’
‘In that case, the baby’s probably dead,’ Charlotte sighed. ‘We haven’t heard anything.’
‘She needs her baby,’ Hawk insisted quietly. ‘Even if it is dead, Charlie, she needs to hold it.’
Charlotte met his gaze, astonished at the level of compassion Hawk was revealing. And, as exhausted as she was, she found the strength for renewed effort in that shared glance.
‘OK. Let’s look again.’
It was slow and dangerous work, methodically checking every corner of the wreckage by torchlight.
‘There’s no sign of it,’ Charlotte said wearily, nearly an hour later.
‘Babies are small.’ Hawk still sounded determined. ‘It must be here somewhere. What about that pile of luggage?’
‘It’s been checked. Probably more than once.’
‘Let’s check again.’
But Charlotte was too tired to move and to have to deal with the body of an infant would be too much now. She simply watched as Hawk pulled bag after bag from where the luggage had been hurled by the impact.
‘There’s a hole,’ he informed her minutes later. ‘Behind a suitcase, under this bent seat. More like a tunnel. Come and help me, Charlie. If we can bend the frame back a bit I can pull this case clear.’
Hawk’s strength astounded Charlotte as she helped push the mangled structure of the seating a little further upright. And he was right. The back of the seat had covered a space made invisible by the wedged suitcase. She saw Hawk freeze as he stretched his arm into the space.
‘I’ve got something.’ In the peripheral light from the torch Charlotte held, she saw his face settle into horribly grim lines. ‘Oh, my God,’ Hawk murmured. ‘It’s a…it’s a leg.’
And then Hawk was lying down on top of the scattered luggage, stretching into the space with both arms, and Charlotte saw the body of a tiny baby being drawn gently out. Hawk straightened, with his burden held as carefully in his arms as if it still needed his protection, and Charlotte’s eyes blurred with tears.
It was in that moment that she fell in love with Owen Hawkins so deeply that she knew she would never again experience anything with such utter conviction. She loved him totally. Body and soul. She wanted to be with Hawk for the rest of her life. She wanted to hold his baby.
‘Charlie?’ Hawk’s voice sounded weird and Charlotte blinked to clear the tears from her eyes.
And then she saw that the baby wasn’t staring lifelessly ahead at nothing. It was staring at her.
‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed. ‘Hawk…it’s alive!’
The baby was not just alive. Unbelievably, the tiny boy appeared to be unscathed. The next hour was a blur for Charlotte as the baby was reunited with its mother and checked again amidst tears of joy and the kind of media excitement that such a miracle could engender, especially when highlighted against such a grim background.
Hawk was a hero but Charlotte didn’t need the clamour of journalists’ questions or the lights from television cameras to tell her that. She was still trying to come to terms with the stunning realisation of how she felt about him and that she was actually tempted to risk the kind of heartbreak she had vowed never to repeat. And even the joy of the baby’s survival couldn’t chase away the misery that temptation evoked.
Even if she was prepared to take that risk, she would guarantee her own failure by attempting to embrace it. The love she felt for Hawk now made her want all the things she knew he categorically didn’t want. Marriage. Children. Permanence. The kind of commitment that kept a relationship alive long after any initial hormonal overdrive had dissipated.
The quickest way to lose what she had right now would be for Hawk to find out what she had just discovered about how she felt. He would be off like a bullet from a gun. No matter how she handled this, she was going to lose him at some point, wasn’t she? It was inevitable. This was only supposed to be a fling. A game…for both of them. This was a reawakening for Charlotte that would enable her to move on to a new and complete life. They had both agreed right from the start that there were no strings and that neither of them had any intention of trying to keep things going for any longer than was prudent.
Charlotte might have just changed her mind with blinding certainty but Hawk hadn’t. He had no intention of sticking around so it would make the end far less messy if he had no idea of the pain it would cause. And if she managed to keep her feelings private enough, maybe she could make it last a little longer than it might have otherwise lasted.
Maybe even long enough for Hawk to start believing in forever?