Laura Scott - True Blue K-9 Unit Christmas

“I need dressings, lots of them,” Pete told Kim. He was worried that an artery had been nicked and if they didn’t stop the bleeding soon, their patient would die.

Kim opened their pack and handed over large squares of gauze. The man’s eyes were open, and Pete could tell he was trying to talk.

“Take it easy.” Pete tried to sound reassuring. “You’ll be fine.”

“Danger—keep her safe...” Their patient’s voice was so faint, Pete could barely hear him.

“Who?” Pete couldn’t tell if the guy was delirious or not. “Keep who safe?”

The man opened his mouth to answer, but then his mouth went slack and he closed his eyes without uttering another word.

A chill snaked down Pete’s back and he resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder into the snowy field beyond. Was the assailant nearby? It was only three in the afternoon, but with the heavy clouds overhead it felt much later. The cops should have cleared the area, but he knew from experience anything was possible. He put pressure on the bleeding wound and leaned down to speak close to the man’s ear. “Who? Keep who safe?”

Nothing. Their patient was unconscious. From the corner of his eye, he took note that Kim had started an IV. Fluids alone wouldn’t be enough. He quickly checked for a pulse. It was faint and slow, a bad sign. Normally hypothermia helped stop bleeding but it could also be dangerous if the patient’s temperature dropped too low.

“We’re losing him,” he warned.

“Logan! What happened? Who hurt him?” A female voice pleaded from behind him, but Pete didn’t bother to look. He continued leaning on the wound while trying to help place the EKG leads on the guy’s chest.

“We need to get him into the rig,” Kim said as she squeezed the bag of fluids in an effort to raise the guy’s blood pressure. “He’s not going to make it if we don’t get him to the hospital.”

“I know.” Pete lifted the pressure from the wound in order to help lift him onto the gurney, but instantly the EKG flatlined. He initiated CPR, knowing it was likely a fruitless effort. Their patient had already lost too much blood. Fluids weren’t going to be enough and calling for a chopper wasn’t an option.

Pete kept doing CPR, working up a sweat despite the chilly December afternoon. This guy was going to die less than a week before Christmas and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

“Hold CPR long enough to get him on the gurney,” Kim directed.

He didn’t want to stop, but knew they had to move. He paused long enough to lift their patient onto the gurney, then continued chest compressions. Kim secured the straps around the guy’s body then gave him two breaths of oxygen through a face mask. Pete stopped CPR again so they could wheel him over the slick, snow-covered terrain to the rig.

“Wait! I’m a cop! I want to go with him.” The female voice he’d heard earlier was louder now, but he continued to ignore her. The minute he had the patient stowed in the back of the rig, Pete jumped in beside him.

“I’ll do CPR while you drive,” he told Kim. CPR was hard work; he figured it made more sense for him to continue with performing chest compressions since he had fifty pounds on Kim and several inches.

The female cop with short, chin-length dark hair jumped into the back of the rig. A beautiful black-and-gold German shepherd joined her. “I know CPR. I can help,” she said.

There wasn’t time to argue, especially since he knew cops were trained in basic first aid. Pete resumed doing compressions while the female cop provided oxygen through a face mask.

“Come on, Logan. Hang on,” she murmured.

Pete continued to count compressions out loud for her benefit. They reached the hospital quickly, and a team of doctors and nurses came out to meet them. They all rushed into the trauma bay, but less than five minutes later, it was over.

The doc on duty pronounced their patient dead.

Pete was sad and frustrated as he washed up, getting rid of the worst of the bloodstains before joining his partner. Since the pretty cop had called their patient by name, he figured they knew each other, but wasn’t sure what their relationship was. When he approached Kim, the female cop was there with wide, sad eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He knew the words were inadequate. After he’d lost his wife seven months ago, people had said the same thing and it hadn’t made him feel any better.

“Thanks. Logan is my ex-husband.” The cop’s blue eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m not sure how I’m going to tell our daughter he’s gone.”

In that moment he placed her, belatedly recognizing her from the day-care center where his son, Mikey, went to a pre-K program. “Faith Johnson,” he said. “From the day-care center. You’re Jane’s mom.”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, managing a weak smile. “Yes. And I should have recognized you as Mikey’s dad. Jane talks about Mikey all the time.”

“Same here.” Suddenly, the last words Logan had spoken took on a new meaning.

Keep her safe.

Pete wondered if Logan had been talking about his ex-wife. Had Logan been involved in something illegal? Drugs? Guns? Something that now put his ex-wife at risk?

“Faith, can I speak to you privately for a moment?” Pete glanced pointedly at Kim who sighed.

“I’ll grab a coffee,” she muttered.

The moment Kim was out of earshot, Pete drew Faith closer. “Listen, when we first arrived at the scene, your ex-husband tried to tell us what happened.”

All hint of tears vanished as Faith instantly turned cop. “What did he say?”

“Just the words danger and keep her safe .” He hesitated, then added, “I think he was talking about you, Faith. About the fact that whoever hurt him might be after you next.”

Faith pulled a notebook out of one of the many pockets of her uniform. “Tell me his exact words.”

Pete thought back to the scene at the edge of the parkway. The sounds of cars passing by had made it difficult to hear. “Danger—keep her safe,” he repeated.

“He didn’t mention a name?” Faith asked.

He shook his head. “I asked, but that’s when he lost consciousness.”

Faith stared at him for a long moment. “Okay, listen, Pete, you’ll need to tell the officers investigating the crime about what you heard. They need to know exactly what Logan said.”

“I know. But what about you?” Faith might be a cop, but he didn’t like the thought of her being in danger. “Do you have any idea why this happened to your ex-husband?”

“No clue,” Faith admitted ruefully. “I haven’t spoken to him recently. He wasn’t supposed to take Jane until tomorrow.”

He understood co-custody rules and nodded. “Maybe take a few days off. At least until the detectives finish their initial investigation.”

Faith glanced down and put her hand on the head of the tall tan-and-black German shepherd at her side. “I’ll be okay. My K-9 partner, Ricci, always has my back.”

Pete wanted to press the issue, but an older cop wearing a badly fitting suit beneath a parka approached them at the same time Kim returned with her coffee. “I’m Detective Zimmerman. I need to speak to each of you, alone.”

Pete glanced at Faith, who nodded. “You may want to start with the paramedics,” Faith said. “They need to get back.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Kim protested.

“But I did,” Pete added.

“Let’s talk somewhere private.” Zimmerman gestured to a small room off to the side.

Pete followed the detective, wondering what in the world he’d stumbled into.

Faith tore her gaze away from the handsome paramedic, dragging her attention to the issue at hand. Logan was gone. Someone had stabbed him and left him lying on the side of the road.