Alison Roberts - The Recovery Assignment

‘Kind of.’ Laura’s partner, Tim, had restarted chest compressions. ‘The car was seen to pick up speed as it came downhill and it veered across the other two lanes and left the road. It cut one car off and the witness said that the driver appeared to be slumped over the wheel.’

‘Who was the witness?’

‘That guy over there in the pinstripes. He was the one who made the triple-one call. He started the CPR as well as soon as they got him out of the car. He’s a bit shaken up,’ Laura added. Her smile at Charlotte was sympathetic. ‘You might like to tell him what a great job he did.’

‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ Hawk said. Another ambulance was pulling up and he felt out of place. So much for his statements from only yesterday about being on the same team and the desirability of knowing as much as possible about how each branch of the emergency services did their jobs. If Hawk had been that interested in what paramedics did, he would have become one himself, instead of joining the police force. Knowing each other’s jobs too well meant that it was possible to step in and assist instead of getting on with what they were supposed to be doing.

As Charlotte was demonstrating so ably. A second shock had elicited a normal but very slow heartbeat. Charlotte was handling supplies from the paramedic kit with the ease of complete familiarity. Her long fingers were snapping ampoules and drawing up drugs into syringes. Hawk found himself mesmerised for a split second. Her fingers were as long and elegant as the rest of this woman. The flash of curiosity regarding what they might feel like touching his body came from absolutely nowhere and it was as startling as it was disturbing.

It was easy to summon anger to blanket such an undesirable emotion. This was precisely what Hawk had feared might happen. His partner was doing someone else’s job and he was being left to work alone on the tasks she had actually been employed to do.

Except that she was only a step behind him by the time Hawk had conferred briefly with the scene commander and opened the back hatch of the squad car to get the equipment he needed. He picked up a digital camera and a can of spray paint.

‘Have you spoken to the witness?’

‘Not yet. There’s pressure on to shift the wreck and get traffic flowing. I’m going to mark its position and get some photos before the tow truck moves in.’ Hawk glanced up as the ambulance rolled past. The vehicle’s beacons were flashing blue and red and its siren was activated as soon as it cleared the cordoned-off area. The noise was deafening for a moment and Hawk frowned.

‘What’s with the siren? That’s not usual procedure for a return trip, is it?’

‘It’s a status-one patient. Post-arrest.’ Charlotte told him. ‘They need to get him to hospital as quickly as possible.’

‘Is he going to survive?’

‘I hope so,’ Charlotte said quietly. ‘His rhythm looked good and he was breathing spontaneously by the time he was loaded. We found his driver’s licence,’ she added. ‘His name is Duncan Thomson. He’s only forty-four.’

Only eight years older than Hawk. Suddenly the incident became more than a job. More than a scene of a traffic snarl-up and a major inconvenience for a large number of people trying to get to work. The strength of his own hope that the man would survive took Hawk by surprise. He didn’t get emotionally involved with the victims of serious crashes. Never had. You couldn’t afford to if you wanted to stay in this line of business for any length of time. Had the fact that he’d been more aware of what the paramedics were doing made the difference? If so, it could be another black mark to chalk up against having to work with Charlotte Laing.

Charlotte watched Hawk as he turned abruptly and strode towards the wreck. Her eyebrows rose as he walked straight past the man in the pinstripe suit, who was standing with a junior police officer. The witness still looked pale and shaken but he was clearly pulling himself together. Charlotte saw him look at his watch and then point to a sedan parked on the road’s shoulder some distance uphill. Clearly, he wanted to leave the scene. Pulling a small notebook and pen from the pocket of her shirt, Charlotte also picked up a can of spray paint from the crate in the back of the squad car and moved purposefully.

‘I’m Charlotte Laing,’ she introduced herself to the witness, ‘from the Serious Crash Squad. Thanks so much for waiting so long. Can you spare another minute or two to answer some questions for me?’

‘Sure…I guess.’ The man looked at his watch again. ‘But I’m running awfully late for work.’

‘It won’t take long,’ Charlotte promised. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Andrew Duggan.’

‘You did a great job, here, Andrew. It was you who made the triple-one call, wasn’t it?’

The man nodded.

‘And you started CPR?’

He nodded again. ‘I did a first-aid course at work only last month.’ His voice shook. ‘I never thought I’d have to do it for real, though.’

‘Pretty scary, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’ Andrew rubbed a hand over his mouth as though reliving the mouth-to-mouth breathing. ‘I’m going to carry one of those mask things from now on. Is he going to be all right, do you think?’

‘He’s very sick,’ Charlotte responded seriously. ‘But your actions gave him the best possible chance. He would definitely have died before anyone else got here if you hadn’t started the CPR.’

‘It took so long. By the time I realised there was something really wrong with him and called for an ambulance and found someone to help me get him out of the car…it seemed to take forever. And his face was all blue and…and…’

‘I know.’ Charlotte touched the man’s arm in a sympathetic gesture. ‘It’s not nice. It sounds as though he might have collapsed even before the accident happened so there was nothing anyone could have done to help any earlier. You said you saw him slumped over the wheel?’

‘Yes. I was in the inside lane.’ Andrew pointed uphill. ‘There was a car behind me in the middle lane and it was him leaning on his horn that made me notice the other car cutting in.’

‘What speed were you doing, do you know?’

‘Seventy-five, maybe 80 kph. The guy behind me slowed and I hit my brakes but I didn’t need to. By the time he got into my lane he was going pretty fast. I thought he was just changing lanes. It wasn’t until he kept going off the side of the road that I realised something was wrong. He hit the lamppost without even slowing down at all.’

‘Can you show me where you were when you started braking?’ Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to see Hawk’s long frame bent over as he sprayed marks around the wrecked car’s tyres. A tow truck was backing towards him. She continued making notes as she walked uphill with their witness.

One lane of traffic was now moving but Charlotte could identify tyre marks on the inside lane consistent with Andrew’s braking manoeuvre. She also found marks in the middle lane that fitted the trajectory of an out-of-control vehicle that had ended its journey at the lamppost. She marked the areas with her can of bright orange spray paint.

Ten minutes later Charlotte had collected all the information she felt was needed from the witness.

‘Thanks again,’ she told Andrew as he waited to drive from the cordoned-off area into the line of still slowly moving traffic. ‘You’ve been a great help. Are you sure you feel OK to go to work?’

Andrew nodded. ‘I feel a lot better now.’ He smiled at Charlotte. ‘If I did do what you say a paramedic would have done under the same circumstances then maybe I should think about changing jobs.’

‘I’d stick to supermarket managing if I were you.’ Charlotte grinned. ‘Less stressful.’