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Allen aka Bell was being booked as they came in the front door. The chief took one look at the woman in Tate’s arms, then the blood and the weapons, and pointed at a deputy.
“Put the prisoner in holding,” he commanded, and had his hand on his weapon as he headed toward the door. “What happened?”
“The killer just attacked her inside the gym. He got away in the chaos. The power is out at the hospital, and Dad’s on the way here to stitch her up. We’ll be in our field office. When he gets here, bring him up.”
“Lord, Lord,” Beaudry mumbled, and headed down the hall to make sure they got Allen in a cell before anything else came loose.
Nola barely knew where she was and couldn’t stop shaking, but she heard Tate’s voice and knew she was safe.
“Move all that stuff off the table,” Tate said as they entered their office.
Wade and Cameron began stacking files and moving equipment. When the table was clear, Tate laid her on it. She moaned.
“Nola, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him?” he asked.
“No. He was behind me. All I saw was an arm and then the knife. It happened so fast.”
Tate was furious. No matter what they did, the bastard stayed one step ahead of them. He was trying to stop the flow of blood from her arm when his father arrived, issuing orders without bothering to say hello.
“There are clean towels in this bag, and a large bottle of antiseptic wash. Put a couple of towels under her arm. Tate, you know what to do. Clean the area so I can see what we’re up against. If he cut deep into the muscle, she may need surgery.”
Nola groaned.
That was when Don realized she was conscious and patted her shoulder.
“I apologize, Nola. My usual patients aren’t able to hear me. I’m afraid I’ve lost my bedside manner.”
She heard him, but she was shaking so hard she couldn’t answer.
“She’s going into shock,” Don snapped as they rolled her over onto her stomach to get easier access to the wound. “Hurry.”
Tate was working as fast as he could, swabbing the arm with the antiseptic wash to clean the area around the wound.
“There’s a bleeder here somewhere,” he muttered. “Take a look.”
Don was already gloved up and had his instruments at the ready when he moved into place. He began injecting the area with Novocaine to numb it against what he was about to do. His patients weren’t the kind who felt pain, and it was all he could get his hands on at this time of night. He hoped he had enough to do the job.
Nola moaned and then passed out.
“Good. Maybe I can finish before she comes to,” Don said. “Somebody bring me some more light.”
Cameron grabbed a large flashlight from their gear and aimed it down into the wound.
“A little to the right and up,” Don said.
Cameron adjusted the angle.
“There. I see it,” Don said, and moments later clamped the large vein that had been slashed and tied it off.
The ensuing minutes were almost silent, except for Don’s occasional request or demand. The other men stood motionless around the table, watching him work.
Beaudry came in, but he stood back and kept silent, too.
“She’s waking up,” Tate said briefly.
