THE CITY was quiet. The radios were silent, and both crews were sitting in their quarters waiting for the next call to come through. Since their shift started at 6:00 p.m., Adam and Nash had done only one call—an old man who had fallen down in the grocery store—but nothing else had come through for almost two hours.
The stillness was disconcerting. Nash felt on edge and jumpy. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with Ford and how one moment he’d been so utterly turned on, and then next, Ford had pushed him away and run.
He had tried not to take it personally. He’d been there, and Ford had been as into it as he was. Something had spooked him, but Nash could be patient if he needed to. Ford intrigued him, more than anyone he’d met in a long time, and if Ford was willing, Nash wanted to see where things would go.
The sound of the radio broke through his thoughts and spurred them into action. Dispatch requested both crews for multiple pediatric victims and informed them the supervisor was already en route. Whatever situation they were heading into, it wasn’t going to be good.
Adam was driving, breaking at least three land-speed records as he weaved sharply in and out of the heavy downtown traffic to the churchyard a few blocks from the hospital. The dispatcher had very limited information—at least two patients, serious hemorrhage, level of consciousness unknown.
Nash braced himself.
He hated calls that involved kids. It was the one scenario he’d never gotten used to. As much as he tried to mentally prepare himself, it was a kick in the guts every single time, and there was nothing that would ever make it easier. It affected him without fail, but he had a job to do, so getting himself worked up before he even got there wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Adam drove past the police cruisers parked at the intersection and pulled the car up to the front of the church, leaving room behind them for Rob and Caleb. They piled out, then grabbed their kits, hurrying through the small crowd of bystanders the cops were keeping back from the scene.
Even without having seen the patients, Nash suspected this call was going to attract media coverage as well. He huffed a sigh. He hated dealing with the media. Although they weren’t permitted inside the police tape, they made the process more complicated. Having to protect the patient’s privacy was difficult enough with a mob of people, without having cameras added into the mix.
Adam followed behind him, and Nash snapped into professional mode, listening to the scattered details rattled off by the cop who met them as they moved toward the side of the church. When they rounded the corner, Nash spotted the two boys huddled against the brick-red wall of the church, blood soaking the ground beneath them. One boy sat holding the other much smaller child against him. Blood matted their hair, and their faces were dirty. Tears streaked the older boy’s cheeks.
Nash approached them before dropping to his knees to see them on their level.
“My name’s Nash. I’m a paramedic, and I’m here to help you,” he said as calmly and soothingly as he could. The boys didn’t look to be very old—fourteen at most. The amount of blood soaking both of them was staggering, and Nash had never seen a patient clinging so desperately to someone else before. The pale gray color of the smaller boy’s skin convinced Nash there was likely nothing that could be done for him. Limbs hung limply as his friend clutched him to his chest.
Adam crouched down next to Nash.
The boy’s eyes were wide, almost feral in the dim light of the setting sun. Nash inched closer, and the boy narrowed his eyes but didn’t move. Nash reached forward and set two fingers against the side of the smaller boy’s neck, feeling for a pulse. When his gloved fingers touched the cold skin, he knew instantly there was no chance of saving this boy. He didn’t know what kind of shape the other was in and turned to look at Adam, conveying as much as he could with one look.
Nash faced their patients once more, and he saw Caleb and Rob walking across the grass toward them. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.
The boy stared at him but remained silent.
“This is my friend Adam. We’re going to help you, okay?”
Adam reached down to pull the smaller boy from the other’s arms. When he stepped back, Nash moved forward to keep the kid sitting when he tried to stand.
“Hold up. It’s okay. I want to look you over. We’re going to take you to the hospital, but we need to make sure you don’t need any help right now before we put you in the ambulance.”
Rob and Caleb were there, standing over Nash in case he needed their assistance. They went through the protocol, checking off steps one by one, looking for injury, taking vitals, and completing the necessary forms. The older boy didn’t speak, and he carried no identification. He was thin—too thin—and his lips were tinged a pale blue.
Nash helped him to the ambulance and stripped him down, checking him over, then covered him with blankets. His body appeared to be severely underfed and wearing evidence of prolonged drug use on his arms; the kid was in rough shape, rougher shape than someone his age should be. Without being able to communicate, he guessed the kid to be about thirteen, and since he wasn’t certain, he refrained from starting an IV.
They’d put one in at the hospital, and there was a small part of Nash that felt relief over not having to be the one to put this kid through any more pain, however minor.
He was helping Rob secure the ambulance for transport when Adam poked his head into the back. Nash looked up, and seeing the expression on Adam’s face, he climbed out of the ambulance and around the side where they could talk without the patient overhearing.
“It’s bad, Nash.”
“I know,” he agreed softly.
“No, it’s really bad. The other kid… he’s gone. But he’s all carved up, same as the last few. The cops called CSU in to process the scene, and Dex is on his way to examine the body.”
A series of murders had taken place in the city over the previous year, the victims all between the ages of nine and fifteen. Each time the bodies had been dumped in an alley or an empty lot, abused and naked, a symbol carved into their chests.
When the first body had surfaced, the cops arrested someone, assuming they’d caught the murderer. Everyone had breathed a little easier, but when a second body appeared while they had the guy in custody, it became clear that the cops missed something. As far as the city was concerned, the killer was still very much at large, and bodies turned up every couple of months.
Whoever was killing these kids was scarily evasive. Since the first murder, there’d been next to nothing to go on, and people were becoming more and more paranoid with each body discovered.
Adam was the medic who attended the first scene to confirm death, back before Nash was assigned to the station. Nash tried not to think about the events that led up to the deaths. He was positive not all of the details had been released to the public, but those that had were absolutely horrifying. The boys were found with high levels of a panel of different drugs in their systems and evidence of prolonged drug use, their bodies starved and abused. Sexual assault was just one of the horrors the kids had lived through, and all of that before they were suffocated and left naked in various dump sites around the city.
The cops were getting desperate for a lead.
A tight knot formed in Nash’s stomach. The boy now wrapped in hospital-issue blankets and shivering against the nonexistent cold had been holding the latest victim. He was covered in the victim’s blood. Nash had barely laid eyes on the kid, but somehow he knew as surely as anything that the boy sitting in his ambulance was as much a victim as the others.
“You wanna wait on Dex here?” Nash asked, pulling himself back to the present.
Adam looked suddenly grateful. “If you’re good with that. We’re going to be shut down after this call, so I’ll meet you back at the station when we’re done?”
“You got it.”
The supervisor walked over then, reinforcing what Adam had said. They were instructed to finish with the patients and then head home, where they would receive a call about the debriefing meeting and likely another from the police to give a statement. Nash hadn’t seen much. He hadn’t been the one to confirm death, Adam had. It was tough, but it was part of procedure and something he’d done more than a hundred times before.
He waited for the supervisor to finish giving them their instructions, then climbed back into the ambulance to help Caleb and Rob with the patient. Once Nash had taken one last set of vitals, he double-checked the boy was warm enough and properly secured in the back, Caleb jumped into the front, and Rob took the jump seat next to them before they pulled back onto the street and headed for the hospital.
WHEN THEY arrived, the ambulance bay was empty. Caleb and Rob offloaded, wheeling the boy in on the stretcher through the sliding doors. He didn’t move other than to tug the blankets Nash had given him more tightly around his body. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as they entered.
Rob had called ahead to brief the hospital on what had happened and to give them a heads-up on the situation with the patient they were bringing in. When they entered, the ER was quiet, most of the nurses sitting behind the desk, but they were anticipating the crew’s arrival. As soon as they walked in, Ford rushed over.
Caleb and Rob transferred the boy from the stretcher to the bed in the first available room. Nash held Ford back to bring him up to speed with what had happened. With how scared the boy was, Nash thought hearing about the death of his friend would only upset him further, and he’d been through more than enough already.
Ford listened attentively as Nash gave the report.
“John Doe, found in the churchyard holding a second victim, deceased. Doesn’t appear to have any serious injuries. He’s got some small lacerations across his ribs, and there is more of him bruised than not, but nothing seems broken. His vitals were stable on scene…. BP was 145 over 93, temp was normal, pulse was 103, and SpO2 was sitting at 97 percent. Overall I think he’s more traumatized than physically injured.”
“Addict?” Ford looked up for the first time from the clipboard, past Nash to the patient. The moment his gaze fell on him, Ford’s eyes widened almost impossibly.
Nash watched the color drain from his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” Ford shook his head as though to clear his thoughts.
“You sure? You look….”
“What?” Ford asked.
“You look like you saw a ghost.” The kid looked rough, but Nash knew he was nowhere near the worst Ford had ever seen.
“Yeah, I’m sure. He looks like someone I know…. It’s not him, though. It’s fine… I’m fine. Go on.”
Nash paused, evaluating Ford’s words for a moment before he continued. “There’s a better than fair chance he’s an IV drug user. He’s pretty scarred up. He was somewhat awake but not overly alert when we picked him up, but he seems to be coming around a bit more now. We haven’t been able to get him to talk yet. I’m leaning toward it being a coping mechanism after the trauma, rather than a developmental delay, but psych will be able to tell for sure. He seems more frightened than anything.”
Ford took the flimsy yellow carbon copy of their report to place in the boy’s chart.
Nash looked at him, still watching and gauging his reaction to the situation. Gone was the rosy-cheeked, laughing, carefree guy he’d walked home. In his place stood a tense, all-business nurse. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he read over the PCIS form. The information written there was the same as Nash had just told him. Ford’s shoulders were lifted, his body tense, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line.
“He’s going to be fine,” Nash assured him, wanting to give him some measure of comfort. Nash wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but it was difficult to see Ford so tense.
Ford lifted his eyes to Nash’s, blinking twice. “I know.”
But he didn’t. Neither of them did. Chances were good that the boy was going to be perfectly fine, physically. But it was anyone’s guess at what the psychological ramifications were of what he’d been through.
Nash dipped his head forward, shoving his hands into his pockets rather than reaching out to pull Ford to him. He wanted to. He felt as though if he could get his hands on him, just hold him a minute, he could pull Ford from the dark place Nash suspected he was falling into. The world wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, and they saw it more than most.
“I should go.” Nash gestured behind him. “Adam’s meeting me back at the station, and I should help him get the paperwork started. I have a feeling the cops are going to be eager to have it.”
“Okay,” Ford said, his voice small.
“Will you let me know later how he does?”
“I will,” Ford promised, and with that Nash turned and walked out of the ER before his willpower broke and he did something stupid.