THE WILLOWS AND PARKER MYSTERIES BOOKS 1–7 seven gripping crime thrillers by Laurence Gough

Author:Laurence Gough [Gough, Laurence]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books Crime, Thriller & Mystery, A Joffe Books Company
Published: 2024-08-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

Willows had lost consciousness by the time the paramedics got to him. He lay on his back on the icy asphalt as they affirmed that he was breathing. His respiration was up — a bad sign. One of the paramedics measured him for the plastic tube that would carry oxygen down his throat and into his lungs. His partner yelled at Willows and shook him hard, applied what should have been a painful amount of pressure to the web of flesh between Willows’ index finger and thumb.

No response.

They intubated him. The oxygen began to flow. A quick head-to-toe check confirmed that Willows had no other visible injuries.

Parker hovered anxiously in the background while they gently laid her partner on a gurney and lifted him inside the ambulance. He was hooked up to a cardiac monitor. Parker climbed inside. The doors slammed shut and they got underway, the siren clawed its way up the scale.

“No signs of arrhythmia.”

Willows’ vital signs — blood pressure and pulse — were optimistic. A small flashlight was used to check his pupil reflexes. A few minutes later, he began to gag.

“Valium?”

“Don’t think we need it. His oxygen level’s climbing fast. Let’s pull the tube.”

Willows opened his eyes. He focused on Parker and then the intravenous line running into his wrist. “What the hell’s that for?”

“In case we needed to administer drugs.”

“Get rid of it.” Willows’ voice was thick, sluggish. He struggled to sit up.

“Take it easy, now. How’re you feeling?”

“I could use an aspirin.” Willows’ centre of gravity shifted as the ambulance turned a corner. “Where we going?”

“Grace. Be there in a couple of minutes.”

Willows glared at Parker. “What about Peter Lee?”

“He didn’t make it, Jack.”

“We gotta go back.”

“First things first, fella.” The paramedic smiled down at him. “We have to X-ray you, make sure we didn’t do any damage to your lungs when we stuck that tube down your throat.”

“Turn this thing around.” Willows yanked at the tape holding the intravenous in place.

The paramedic laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I’ll do it.”

Up front, the radio crackled and the driver said, “Holy Christ.” Parker heard the phrase “shots fired”. She said, “What’s going on?”

“Couple of guys robbed an armoured car at Maple and Broadway. There’s four or maybe five people been shot, a gas station on fire, cars exploding all over the damn place.”

The radio crackled again.

“Fuckin’ Wild West shootout,” shouted the paramedic. “They’re wearing cowboy hats, high-heeled boots. Drove off in a black Cadillac.”

“Hit it,” said Willows. “Let’s move.”

It took them eighteen minutes to make the three-mile run through heavy traffic. The parking lot in front of the Safeway and liquor store was thick with police cars and fire trucks and ambulances. A temporary command post had been set up. The Emergency Response Team was in full war-paint and the dog squad was all bright-eyed and snarly. Reporters and photographers and mini-cam units from the local papers and radio and TV stations fought to interview or photograph anything that moved.

The gas pumps had been shut off and the fire at the 7-Eleven was under control, but still burning.

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