Page 67 of Rescuer
He took a fortifying breath. It was never pleasant to treat anyone who’d been shot or stabbed. But when it was someone he knew—even a little bit—it made him angry. Although he had to admit, he was easily angered these days. It didn’t take much to trigger those emotions. Even with prayer, aggression prowled in his soul like a caged tiger. Sooner or later, it would begin to leak out if he wasn’t vigilant.
A faint moaning indicated her location before he saw her. Elaine Dirk was in the kitchen, propped up against a cupboard. She had a soggy dish towel pressed against her side. There was a pool of blood on the floor and a drag trail. A metal mixing bowl lay upended on the floor, and thick blobs of dough splattered the surfaces.
Apparently, she’d been in the middle of baking when someone had surprised her.
Her eyelids lifted. “Jackson…”
Jackson dropped to his knees beside Elaine. The copper scent of blood hit his nose. He ignored it, focused on the woman bleeding out before him.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice steady even as his eyes flicked to the crimson seeping through her fingers. “Do I have permission to treat you?”
She nodded, closing her eyes again.
“Swanny—trauma kit.”
Swanny was already there, unzipping the bright-orange bag and snapping open a pair of shears. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Jackson gently peeled the dish towel and her shirt away from the wound. She winced, a gasp erupting from her mouth. “I’m sorry, Elaine. I need to see the wound.”
Blood bubbled from the wound. “Okay, Elaine, I’m going to take care of your bleeding, then we’ll take you to the hospital.”
Jackson took some gauze and pressed it to the wound. He glanced at Swanny. “Did it go through?”
“Don’t think so,” Swanny answered, leaning in with a flashlight. They eased her away from the cupboard. “No exit wound.” He tore open an occlusive dressing, handing it over.
If there was no exit wound, they only had the one wound to treat. Unfortunately, that also meant the bullet was lodged inside her. Jackson didn’t let his concern show on his face or in his manner.
Jackson kept his voice calm. “Elaine, I need you to stay as still as you can. I need to dress your wound.”
She hissed between her teeth as he sealed the dressing. “I was making cookies for the church picnic—” She swallowed, her eyes glassy. “I didn’t hear anyone come in. He was just there. He shot me. Went straight for Reggie’s room.”
The officer took note of everything she said.
Jackson’s hands didn’t pause. He wrapped an elastic bandage around her side, anchoring the seal.
Swanny slid the blood pressure cuff around her arm, checking vitals. “BP’s low. She’s pale—probably losing more than we can see.”
Jackson nodded. He glanced up at the officer. “We’re moving her now.”
The officer relayed the information to someone in the hall.
Jackson heard the shuffle of personnel moving around. It sounded like more people had arrived after them.
“We need to lift you to get you on the cot, then we’ll get you to the hospital. It may hurt, but I promise we’ll be as gentle as we can.”
“I understand.” She squeezed her lips together, and her lids slammed shut.
From down the hall, the K-9 barked sharply, followed by the muffled voice of the handler. Mark came out of the room to talk with the other officer.
Jackson heard the words “…drugs found…crude derivative of Neurosync…”
“I knew it,” Elaine muttered.
Mark frowned and made his way to them. “Ma’am, you knew what?”
She grunted in pain. “My Reggie. He’s bought some new computer equipment recently. I asked, ‘Where’s the money from?’ He didn’t have a job.”
Mark’s eyes cooled. “You believe he was selling drugs.”
