Heartbeat Read online

  HEARTBEAT

  FAITH SULLIVAN

  Copyright © 2013 Faith Sullivan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover image © Yuri Arcurs / PhotoXpress.com

  Edited by Mickey Reed at ImABookShark.com

  To K.M.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Message from the Author

  Chapter One

  Katie

  CRASH!

  The force of the impact is jarring, but it doesn’t completely startle me. A split second before the SUV hurtles into Grandma’s driver’s side door, I catch a glimpse of it in my peripheral vision. Grandma isn’t so lucky.

  “Are you okay?” I gasp.

  “I think so,” she says, moving to unfasten her seat belt.

  The driver of the SUV is already outside of his vehicle inspecting the damage. It is a miracle Grandma isn’t trapped behind the steering wheel. She is able to open her dented car door. She struggles to stand, wincing in pain. The passenger in the SUV is already on his cell phone, probably calling 911.

  I don’t want to get out of the car. It is a February afternoon. The temperature is hovering in the teens. The wind is whipping through the movie theater parking lot as snow flurries begin to fall. I crouch down in my seat. Why did this have to happen? I don’t want to deal with a guy who drives like Rambo, taking down every elderly woman in his path. Maybe if I close my eyes, it will all go away.

  A speeding police car with lights flashing arrives on the scene. Do they really need to make such an entrance? They probably just left the donut shop down the road. No need to give in to the sugar rush.

  Grandma slowly sits back in her seat as Rambo’s father comes over to our car.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?” he asks.

  “I don’t know…I’m awfully sore,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

  “It’s not a good idea for you to be moving around. Why don’t you just sit back and stay as still as you can. The police are here now. Let me go and talk to them,” he says.

  He strides into the wind head-on as his son bends down to analyze the damage to his front fender. Really? He can’t even come over and see if the old lady he hit is okay? He has to send his dad? Way to be a man.

  I lean forward and open the glove compartment to find the insurance information and registration card.

  “Here comes someone now. Are you able to roll down the window, Grandma?” I ask.

  “I think so…let me see,” she says, hitting the power button.

  “How are you doing, ladies? Anyone seriously hurt?” asks a female police officer, her blonde curly hair blowing around her head like a tornado as the wind begins to increase.

  “Well, I feel a little banged up,” Grandma replies.

  “Look straight ahead, and keep your head against the headrest. Do not move a muscle. I don’t even want to know what happened. We’re going to give you an incident report that you can fill out later and drop off at the station next week. For now, just sit tight until the ambulance arrives,” the officer says with practiced authority.

  “I don’t think I need an ambulance,” Grandma says.

  “Grandma, it’s better if you go and get checked out at the hospital. Just to be sure,” I insist.

  “Listen to your granddaughter. We’ll all feel better if you let them examine you,” the officer responds.

  “Okay, if you think it’s necessary,” Grandma sighs.

  “Try to relax. I’m going to talk with the other driver. Remember, don’t move,” the officer commands.

  “Yes, officer,” Grandma replies meekly.

  “Well, I guess they don’t want our paperwork,” I grumble. What a mess. We just wanted to get out and enjoy a movie without having it end in disaster.

  It is the first time in a week that I have left the house. I’m still a little weak after what seemed like a never-ending bout with the flu. Last weekend, I was in the emergency room sick as a dog. Looks like this weekend is going to be more of the same. Except this time, I won’t be the patient.

  This wouldn’t have happened if I had been driving. But the wind was so fierce that Grandma didn’t want me getting sick again. So she told me to wait at the entrance of the theater and she would pick me up. I ran from the theater entrance to the car, yet I still felt chilled to the bone. I didn’t notice anything amiss with Grandma. Everything seemed fine, until she plowed through an intersection without stopping. That’s all it took to land us in this predicament.

  I look up as the ambulance pulls into the parking lot. A lanky guy with scruffy blonde hair and a face full of stubble jumps out…without a jacket…wearing short sleeves. Is he crazy? We’re practically living on an ice planet, and he’s dressed like it’s a summer day. And he’s going to be the one taking care of my grandmother? I think he’s the one who needs to get his head examined.

  I watch him through the windshield as he follows his two older co-workers over to the police. Snowflakes stick to the black shirt of his uniform.

  Great, they have some crazy guy who doesn’t look much older than me running the show. Perfect.

  Luckily, one of the other paramedics approaches our car. He gently opens the door and looks at Grandma. He must see a lot of horrific things in his line of work. At least in this case there’s no blood or massive injuries.

  “Hi, my name is Charlie, and I’m going to be taking care of you,” he says, with a smi
le.

  Grandma nods.

  “Oh, now don’t go moving on me. I need you to stay nice and still while I examine you,” he says in a soothing voice as he looks into her eyes with a mini flashlight. “Everything seems fine, but as a precaution, I’m going to put this neck brace on you. Then we’re going to put you on the stretcher and take you to the hospital.”

  As Grandma is awkwardly fitted with the brace, I glance over at Mr. Short Sleeves. He’s not even shivering.

  Chapter Two

  Adam

  Just another endless day on the job…these twelve-hour shifts are murder. How much longer until I can go home?

  The clock on the ambulance dashboard reads 4:03 p.m.

  Great, two more hours… I don’t mind when we’re busy, but sitting around a gas station parking lot isn’t exactly what I signed up for.

  A call comes through the speakers interrupting my inner gripe session. “We have a two-vehicle crash in the parking lot of Crown Theater off Maria Boulevard. Closest unit please respond.”

  Sitting behind the wheel, I grab the comm. “10-4, unit 365 responding.”

  “Adam, please try to curb your enthusiasm. You know I don’t like having my coffee breaks interrupted,” jokes Charlie, my co-worker.

  He is close to retirement and my get-up-and-go attitude, never fails to amuse him. He has seen a lot over his thirty-plus years as a paramedic, and I hope that my sense of humor will still be intact when I reach his age instead of having blood and death burned into my retinas.

  “C’mon kid, let’s roll,” adds Tommy, another veteran on the staff. He is quieter than Charlie but no less professional when it comes to answering a call.

  I turn on the overhead lights and ease into traffic. No need for the siren since we are only two minutes away and no major injuries were reported. It is probably the usual fender-bender with bruised egos and heated tempers.

  I turn right at the light and aim the ambulance down the road. The movie theater is next to the new shopping center. Traffic is busy, but it’s nothing to worry about. I can already see the police cars by the theater. Jeez, did they really need three cruisers for a minor crash? Looks like they’re having a slow day, too.

  I inch onto the scene as a gust of snow nearly obliterates my vision. This is going to be fun.

  “All right, let’s go and get a handle on the situation,” Charlie says. “I’ll talk to the cops. Tommy, take Adam with you and see if anybody needs immediate assistance.”

  “Should I bring any of the equipment with me, boss?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you can start with the neck brace. We’ll see if we need to bring out the stretcher,” Charlie responds.

  As Charlie greets the cops, Tommy and I get our first look at the crash. The SUV looks fine, maybe a bent fender, if that, but the driver’s side door of the black sedan resembles the Incredible Hulk’s punching bag. I hate when people driving smaller cars become the crash test dummies of larger vehicles. It’s not a fair fight. Not by a long shot.

  “The two men with the SUV look fine. They’re out and walking around. But it looks like something’s up with the old lady in the car. See how that cop is hovering over her?” Tommy asks.

  “Guys, come here for a minute, will ya?” Charlie calls.

  We jog over to where Charlie is standing. He is talking to a cop whose face is covered in acne scars. I don’t usually notice things like that, but the guy looks like a pepperoni pizza.

  “You guys are first on scene, so if the lady wants to go with you, you’ll be the ones to take her to the hospital,” the cop says. “The other three aren’t complaining of any injuries, so it’ll just be her.”

  I glance over again at the car and catch the girl staring at me. Is she shaking her head? I hope she’s not talking the driver out of seeking treatment. Big mistake. So many times an accident victim is still in shock, coasting on adrenaline when these things happen. It’s an hour or two later when the real pain sets in.

  “You continually amaze me, kid,” Charlie says.

  “And why is that?” I ask.

  “We’re in the middle of a blizzard and you’re standing there like it’s the Fourth of July. I might be old and feeble, but would it kill you to wear a damn coat every once and a while?” Charlie asks.

  “Old? Feeble? Glad you finally admitted it, old man,” I joke.

  “Watch it,” Charlie warns.

  “Well, if you fellas are done horsing around, I’d be much obliged if you could take a look at the victim. I wanna get outta here, the sooner the better,” says the pimple-faced cop.

  Charlie turns around and rolls his eyes at me. Tommy is already hurrying toward the car.

  “What do we have here? Officer, what’s the situation?” Tommy asks, as he reaches the female cop. She is still standing guard over the elderly lady, who is clearly injured.

  “Looks like possible whiplash, but you’re the experts,” she says. “I’ll leave it to you to examine her. I’ve been trying to keep her from moving her neck.”

  “Excellent, we’ll take it from here,” Charlie responds.

  Since I am still in training, I step back and watch as Tommy takes the neck brace from my hands and gives it to Charlie. Charlie is such a pro in these situations. He always knows how to keep a victim calm and get the job done.

  I chance another quick look at the girl. She is extremely quiet, no doubt taking it all in. At least she’s not causing a fuss or getting in the way. Looks like we’re all headed for a ride to the hospital.

  Chapter Three

  Katie

  It is traumatic watching Grandma being lifted onto an ambulance stretcher.

  I move the damaged car out of the line of traffic and into an empty parking space. The front tire stays on long enough for me to manage the maneuver. It’s not going anywhere until a tow truck takes it away.

  I call my dad on my cell phone to tell him about the accident. He sounds perturbed that I interrupted his Saturday afternoon TV marathon instead of being concerned for Grandma. Typical. He is always annoyed when he has to deal with us in a real-life capacity instead of zoning out into oblivion.

  Twenty minutes later, there is still no sign of him. I grab both of our purses, lock the car doors, and head for the ambulance.

  Grandma is already on board in the back with the two older paramedics. They’ve already begun to work on her. The young guy is sitting in the driver’s seat waiting for me. I take a deep breath and open the passenger door. Wow, I’m going for a ride in an ambulance.

  As I boost myself into the seat, I steal a glance to my left. He’s looking right at me. I’m taken aback. This is my first time seeing him up close, and the concern on his face touches me. Crazy, I know.

  “How’s she doing?” I ask.

  “Just fine,” he says. “But I’m going to have to ask you a couple questions.”

  I appreciate his unhurried approach as he calmly sorts through the necessary paperwork and retrieves a pen from his shirt pocket. I hide a smile as I notice he has the heat on full blast. I knew he had to be cold in those short sleeves.

  “Is your grandmother currently on any medication?” he inquires.

  “Yes, she’s on something for her high blood pressure, and she takes a pill for her arthritis every now and then. But I don’t know the exact names of the meds she’s on,” I mutter.

  He doesn’t look up as he studiously takes down what I say. “Is she allergic to any medication?”

  “Well, she broke out in a rash after taking penicillin, but I think that was over twenty years ago,” I respond.

  “Okay, gotcha.” He looks at me with a serious expression, like everything I say is of the gravest importance. And when he does, his eyes strike something deep inside of me. It’s like he can’t believe I’m actually sitting next to him.

  I’m reeling a bit. Why am I feeling such a powerful connection to a guy I just met?

  I turn away to try to regain my composure. It has to be the trauma of the accident playing tricks
on my stressed-out mind. I’m latching on to the first person offering me a dose of comfort, that’s all.

  I see a red Camaro fly by the ambulance. Great, Dad is finally here. Perfect timing. Right when we’re about to leave.

  “I think that’s my dad. Would it be all right if I get out and talk to him?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sure. Go ahead. I won’t leave without you,” he says.

  Again, I experience that tug.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be right back,” I reply.

  I open the door and throw on my fur-lined hood. A wintry blast hits me in the face. Dad is already inspecting the damage.

  “It’s not drivable, is it? Can you drive it behind the ambulance?” are the first words out of his mouth.

  “Dad, the front wheel is about to fall off. I’m going with Grandma,” I protest.

  “If you don’t want to drive it, then you’re coming with me. You’ll just be in their way,” he mutters.

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to abandon her.”

  “Fine…fine. What hospital are they taking her to? General?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

  He turns and walks back to his car without a backward glance. Would it kill him to ask how Grandma is doing?

  A gust of wind hits me square in the back like two firm hands pushing me toward the guy in the ambulance. Like my guardian angel is sending me a message. But is it wrong to want to turn to a stranger instead of my own father?

  I eagerly push the button on the door handle and hop back into the front seat.

  “Thanks for waiting,” I say, giving him a smile.

  “No problem. All set?” he asks.

  “Yep. My dad’s going to meet us there.”

  “Okay, then.”

  I reach back and buckle my seat belt. I look over my shoulder into the back of the rig. Grandma is in an upright position and the two paramedics are talking with her. One is taking her blood pressure.

  “Her vitals are better than mine,” he jokes.

  “That’s good. Glad to hear it,” I remark.

  “Adam, take it nice and easy. Let’s have a smooth ride to the hospital. Try to avoid as many bumps as you can, okay?” the other paramedic asks.