Hometown Homicide by C K Crigger

Author:C K Crigger [Crigger, C K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781641199346
Publisher: City Lights Press
Published: 2019-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

If Gabe answered Frankie’s question, the klaxon that blared inside the station just then drowned him out.

Simultaneously, Gabe’s shoulder mic began spewing unintelligible words. He listened, told her “Later,” and took off. By the time he got to the end of the parking lot, his siren was screaming its eerie wail into the dusk.

Lew, already in the ambulance, pulled out of the garage ten seconds later. Frankie ran to join him. Inside the garage, the two on-call volunteer firemen were scrambling into the pumper truck.

She got into the bus and swung her door shut. “What’s up?”

“Combine accident.” Lew popped the clutch. “Out at Acton Hayes’s place. Hydraulics line running the leveler broke. Machine tilted, threw the operator off and managed to start the field on fire.”

Frankie, still fastening her seat belt, glanced over at him. “Hayes place. That’s where Chris lives, right?”

“Yep. He’ll have any injuries under control.”

Contrary to Lew’s expectation, Chris wasn’t on scene when they arrived only a minute or two behind Gabe. Presently, the fire truck drove up, the volunteers jumped down, and, dragging hoses, started spraying water to knock down the fire around the burned-out combine. Glowing flames lit the field beyond the machine. Sparks leaped into the darkening sky like swarms of tiny LED Christmas lamps.

She spied one heroic man on a Caterpillar tractor plowing a firebreak close to the burning wheat while a pickup with water barrels in back ran interference for him, spraying embers as they landed. A line of men and women with shovels and sacks beat at the edges of the fire line.

Apparently, every person in and around Hawkesford had turned out.

Lew and Frankie, with Frankie keeping a close eye on the field closest to them in case the conflagration spread, dragged equipment through choking smoke and hot, blackened stubble to reach their victim.

Barely conscious and incoherent with pain, the injured man lay helpless, surrounded by hot ash. Frankie dropped to her knees beside him, wincing as overheated earth burned through her pant legs.

“You’re okay,” she said to him, unsure whether he was even aware help had arrived. “We’ve got you. You’re fine. Lew and I are going to take good care of you.”

He moaned, choking for air.

“Hold on, sir. We’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.”

“Not my fault.” His words were barely audible over the roar of machines and shouting men. “Cut. Not my fault.”

Frankie exchanged a questioning look with Lew. What did the guy mean?

“Talk later.” Lew leaned over him, adjusting an oxygen mask over his mouth. “Save your breath.”

A quick examination revealed a shattered tibia along with a fire-bitten arm and an obvious case of smoke inhalation. Frankie inserted an IV. Lew took vitals and reported to the emergency physician at Kootenai Medical in Coeur d’Alene. Presently, he inflated a splint around the man’s leg and applied a wet cover to the burned arm while Frankie injected fentanyl. With quick efficiency, they got the patient stabilized and ready to roll within a few minutes. Lew nodded his approval.

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