Dead On Arrival Read online

  Like they cared about the patient’s wallet. The only thing these two cared about was money. I could just feel it in my intuitive brain, which had always served me well in my nursing. Often I could tell if a patient was going downhill and notified the docs ASAP. Now I was learning to trust that intuition.

  “Welcome back, Jagger. You’ve been missed. The other paramedics are thrilled you’re here to help out,” Payne said.

  Wait a minute! Jagger? Paramedic? Why was I not surprised? I knew he wouldn’t be pulling one of his chameleon charades at the expense of people’s lives and pretend to be an EMT or paramedic. Nope. Jagger really was a trained paramedic. Maybe from his past military days. I’d ask him later.

  He wouldn’t tell me later or ever.

  Pansy looked at Jagger (I think she winked at him!) and said, “Everyone around here calls the guy you’ll be with ER Dano.” She laughed. “It’s been so long, I’m not even sure what his real name is.”

  Brother and sister broke out into hysterical laughter.

  Jagger shook his head.

  And without thinking, I said, “Dan?” then swallowed back anything else that might pop out of my mouth while I contemplated the two of these jokers committing fraud.

  No way.

  They obviously were too stupid.

  Pansy’s eyes darkened. She stepped closer to me and in a deep, husky voice said, “No kidding.”

  Gulp. Okay, I took it back. My intuition said: She could be lethal.

  As if holding court, darling ER Dano sat in the only comfortable chair in the room, where he managed to garner everyone’s attention-except maybe Jagger’s.

  I sat across the coffee table from ER, staring. We’d settled in the lounge area where the staff of EMT and paramedics waited for calls while-I’d learned earlier-some sat in satellite stations around the town and some in designated parking lots to be ready for 911 calls nearby.

  The room had a somewhat homey atmosphere, if you liked royal blue and red, but also a dreary atmosphere that said the twins were not interior decorators, to be sure. Magazines were strewn across the glass top of the coffee table, the TV was attached to the wall (as if someone might want to take the old thing home) and there were decks of cards on the tables by the window along with a Mr. Coffee machine on the counter nearby.

  And ER Dano sat there as nonchalant as could be while eager EMT newbies and experienced ones hung on his every word-which seemed to annoy him.

  One of the newest (obviously because of his crisp new uniform) EMTs, whom ER called Buzz Lightyear-probably because the kid looked as if he’d just stepped out of a brand-new toy box-turned toward ER. “When do you think we’ll get our next call?”

  Oh, boy. Suddenly I wanted to put my arms around the kid, whose name badge read Jeremy Buttman (poor thing).

  Without looking around, or at Jeremy for that matter, ER said, “Eleven fifty-eight in the morning.”

  “Really?” I think Jeremy bounced in his seat when he spoke.

  “You think I’m a freaking clairvoyant?” ER asked.

  Jeremy shook his head, and I wondered if he even knew what that meant.

  “No, sir, it’s just…I’m anxious, is all.”

  Yikes.

  ER’s grip tightened on his mug. He didn’t look at Jeremy, but more at all of us-at the same time-and said, “It’s not about the lights and sirens…it’s not about drivin’ fast…and it has nothin’ to do with what you want or think you might know about medicine…”

  Then, when he had all of our attention he leaned back, slowly took a sip of coffee and paused dramatically.

  The room hushed.

  My heart beat faster, and I wondered if everyone could hear it. Poor “Buzz” looked as if he’d pass out.

  ER then took a long Barney Fife kind of sniff and said, “It’s about freaking savin’ lives.”

  ER Dano sipped again at his steaming black coffee from a mug with an insignia of a red devil on it, and didn’t look as if the liquid burned his mouth in the least.

  Somehow that didn’t surprise me. Intrigued? Yep. Surprised? Nope.

  No one made a sound. I couldn’t help but stare at him.

  The guy was tall. About an inch over Jagger. I could still tell by the way he lounged in the chair. Hair a bit shorter than Jagger’s and a deep brown. More slender than Jagger, but not too thin, and ER Dano definitely worked out. A lot.

  “As a nurse, Nightingale, you’ll be assigned to patients that need the special care. Mostly on transport,” ER Dano said, and I sat at attention immediately. “For now, you’re just a ride along.”

  “Fine,” I mumbled. I had to chuckle at his term of endearment for me until I looked at Jagger.

  He looked pissed!

  My chuckle turned into a grin-a naughty grin that wanted Jagger to notice. “This is all new to me,” I said, “so riding along for orientation will work fine. I’d also like to get a feel for how the company works.” I watched him to see if there was any indication that he might be involved in any fraud, but so far, all I got was attitude. A bad attitude. The longer I listened to him talk to Jagger, the more I was convinced that ER Dano was a lifer here-but burned out worse than I’d been from my nursing career.

  Clearly Dano had gone up in flames a long time ago.

  “You sit here, Nightingale,” ER said, pointing to the bench in the back of the ambulance.

  My first thought was of motion sickness, but when I looked at the cocky paramedic, I refused to let myself even entertain that nauseous thought. I would sit in the back and not get sick.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Jagger, grinning. He was enjoying this so, again, I had to be “big” about it and not complain-even though I’d kill to sit up front.

  And believe me, between the cockiness of ER Dano and good ol’ Jagger, I’d be glad to “off” at least one of them, if not both.

  I sat on the bench directly across from the empty stretcher, said a silent prayer to Saint Theresa for the power of antinausea and strapped myself in.

  Suddenly the ambulance zoomed out of the parking lot and all I could think of was the ones you see in cartoons-balanced on two wheels!

  ER Dano was some character.

  This case might be fun…if I lived through today.

  Four

  I leaned over the sink in the staff’s washroom of TLC Air and Land and splashed cold water over my face. Had to in order to settle my stomach, which ER Dano’s driving had managed to slosh up into my throat.

  “Ugh,” I muttered.

  “Hello, chéri?” Lilla said, coming in the door.

  I looked to the side to make sure no one followed her in. “That ER guy is a pip.”

  She grinned, winked and said, “That he is.”

  Oh, boy. Maybe Lilla could be useful in getting info from him, since he was the longest-term employee around here. Dano was pretty hot, and it seemed as if Lilla thought so too. Then again, so did I, and Lilla’d had four husbands already! I mean, fair is fair.

  Maybe I wouldn’t suggest Dano to her.

  Slowly I lifted my head toward the mirror. “Geez. I look like crap.”

  Lilla remained silent. I looked closer at myself. Oh, well, I was right.

  “Do you have plans for lunch, chéri?”

  I groaned. Lunch? Who asks a vomiting woman if she wants lunch? Then again, Lilla didn’t know about my ride-very similar to a Disney roller coaster where you have to be a certain height, follow cardiac guidelines and not be pregnant.

  “Chéri?”

  I eased myself around toward her-to avoid any kind of quick motion. “Soup sounds comforting.”

  She laughed. “Chéri, you are too funny. Comforting? I would have said delicious or something similar. Meet me by the employee door in about five minutes. Okay?”

  I nodded. Ick. Motion.

  I leaned against the sink. Yet another case where I was miserable, back to nursing, but working with Jagger.

  Suddenly I felt much better.

  “Hurry
up, Sherlock, we don’t have all day,” Jagger said as I approached the employees’ exit to look for Lilla.

  “We? Oh, no. Don’t include me. I’m meeting Lilla for lunch. I’ll see you back here,” I said.

  Suddenly his hand was on the small of my back, his other was pushing the door open and out we went.

  There in the parking lot sat Ambulance #456-with ER Dano at the helm, and Lilla riding shotgun.

  For a few seconds I tried to comprehend the situation, but before I knew it, Jagger had me-no, us-strapped into the back of #456, and Dano hit the gas.

  I made a mental note to take Dramamine with my daily vitamins until this case was closed.

  I looked at Jagger thinking that if we talked about anything, I’d forget that the front of the ambulance seemed to sway one way while the back the other. “So, any progress?”

  He glared at me. “You all right?”

  Geez. The guy was so astute. “Fine. Just hungry. My blood sugar is probably low. The case? Anything on it?”

  “Seems the billing in this place is way out of whack. Dano showed me the daily run sheets and how the paramedics chart.”

  “You didn’t know that? I mean how to chart?”

  He looked at me. I thought he was about to accuse me of something, but he merely said, “I worked paramedic at a different company. They’re similar but different.”

  “Apples and oranges?”

  Jagger bent his head and looked at me. Had to want to shake his head, but he held steady. Well, as steady as one could riding with ER Dano.

  Just then several packages of gauze sailed off the shelves as Dano made a right. I’d hate to think of what it’d be like if we were going to a 911 call.

  “Anyway, we need to get into billing to check things out,” I heard Jagger say. “Lilla can’t do that for us. We need her to run interference.”

  “True. She’d be good at that too. Good mind.”

  He didn’t look up, but nodded. Then he leaned back and shut his eyes, falling asleep from the life-threatening motion.

  I watched him for a few seconds and told myself that surely Jagger would have enlightened me if he knew anything more I should know. Surely.

  Dano bit into his roast beef sandwich while a drop of horseradish dripped out the other end. He didn’t even flinch. Not only was this guy hardened about his job, but also about life in general. He was a fun study though, I had to admit.

  “So,” I said to him. He didn’t look up. “Are either of the Sterling twins married?”

  ER Dano kept eating.

  Lilla gave me a shrug.

  Jagger took a sip of his black coffee and looked at me over his mug with a what-the-hell’s-the-difference expression on his face.

  “Dano, are they?” I persisted, not even sure why I cared.

  Dano took another bite, looked at me and shrugged too. Only his shrug looked like he knew, didn’t give a shit and wasn’t about to tell me anything.

  Lilla started to ask him about how long he’d worked at TLC and when he perked up and answered “years,” I decided I was spinning my wheels at this meal. I excused myself to leave for the ladies’ room.

  No one said a word.

  When I got near the front door, I looked at our waitress, who was now sitting at the counter eating a hamburger, and decided I really didn’t need to use the ladies’ room.

  “Excuse me. Please tell my friends I have to leave.” I started to dig into my purse for money for my bill.

  She motioned her head toward our table. “You with those two hunks? Man, if I were twenty years younger.” She cackled. “That one drinking his coffee. Yum. ’Course, the other one ain’t bad. He could put his shoes under my bed anytime, sweetie!”

  I laughed and pulled my empty hand out of my bag. “The hunk drinking coffee will pay my tab.”

  With that I was out the door and hailing a cab, which was not an easy feat in Hope Valley. However, obviously by some divine intervention a yellow cab zoomed around the corner just as I raised my hand.

  Thank you very much, Saint T!

  Except for the dispatchers, who were on call 24/7, TLC’s offices were pretty empty. I took the opportunity to “acquaint” myself with my new employment surrounds.

  I made my way through the reception area, into the filing area, and down the corridor. I found myself at Payne’s door.

  His open door.

  “Payne? Mr. Sterling?” I stepped inside and walked to Pansy’s adjoining office. Geez. Pansy. Some name. Shaking my head, I knocked, opened the door after no reply and ran my gaze around the room.

  Empty.

  There is a God.

  I withdrew from the room and shut the door as quietly as I could and walked toward Payne’s desk. If I got caught, I had already decided I’d say that since Lilla wasn’t there I was trying to find the employee forms she’d given me this morning, because I thought I’d put down the wrong phone number.

  Maybe I was getting better at this lying stuff.

  Quickly I looked over his desk. Payne was not the neatest guy in the world, but he wasn’t a Fabio either. I reached into the pocket of my scrubs and took out a pair of gloves.

  Jagger had taught me well.

  They’d become a staple in my wardrobe now, much like a tissue and clean underwear (a la Stella Sokol).

  I pushed the desk chair back and tried to open the top drawer. No such luck. The others opened without any problem, so I helped myself to the documents that were inside.

  Daily run sheets. The ones Jagger had been talking about. Each EMT or Paramedic had to fill them out. I glanced through them with my nursing eye, weeding out any unnecessary information.

  Old Payne was pretty organized when it came to his files, which made my job easier.

  Several had oxygen listed. Two had charges for ALS, which I knew stood for advanced life support and was more expensive. I sat down and read through the entire pile, glancing at the clock every once in a while.

  Suddenly I heard footsteps outside the door. Gulp. I started to stick the files back, remembering the exact order they’d been in. That, I was very good at-I had an almost photographic memory.

  The hallway quieted. I swallowed and decided there was no need to rush off. I had to find his billing information to cross-check it against the run forms.

  Behind his desk, and below the Mona Lisa, who suddenly gave me the creeps the way she seemed to be watching me, was another file cabinet.

  Locked.

  Hmm.

  Piqued my interest. So, I dug around the cabinet, the one behind Mona, until I found a set of keys. Two didn’t work. “Bingo!” I whispered as the lock clicked open on the third key.

  Copies of bills for the last three years. Could life get any better? I found the matching bills to the files, and indeed, TLC had charged the patients for oxygen when it wasn’t even used (not to mention the fact that the law didn’t allow for individual charges like that), and the ALS was really a BLS-basic life support, which was a much cheaper ride.

  An eighty-year-old guy had fallen while mowing his lawn. His wife called 911, but since he’d fallen in the grass, there wasn’t a scratch on him, nor was he in any distress to the point where he’d needed oxygen, according to the paramedic’s run sheet-of one ER Dano.

  If nothing else, I just knew in my gut that Dano was a fantastic, crackerjack paramedic.

  I leaned back after checking out several more bills.

  “So, you are bilking the insurance company out of millions, Mr. Sterling. Aren’t you?”

  “Yes. For a new employee, Ms. Sokol, you are perceptive.”

  I dropped the files and swung around to see Payne Sterling with a knife aimed at me.

  A knife!

  I had this real phobia of knives and always said I’d rather be shot than stabbed.

  However, right now, I was hoping for neither.

  Five

  Payne Sterling eased closer to me, the knife blade mocking me with its sparkle.

  “Oh, hey, Payne.
I mean, Mr. S. Somehow I got lost and was looking for the forms Lilla gave me this morning.” I mumbled and rambled so that suddenly Payne looked confused. This after he’d heard me accuse him of insurance fraud-and he’d admitted it.

  So, I took that opportunity to cut and run (forgive the pun again!). I kicked at his groin, stayed around only seconds to hear him groan, then grabbed the stack of files from the desk and threw them in his face, buying me only nanoseconds.

  By the time I got to the door, his hand was on mine. I started to scream like a girl-hey, we’re talking life and death here-but he had his hand on my mouth faster than I could take a breath.

  “Shut up or you’ll end up needing 911 called for you.” Wow. His voice had grown eerily threatening in a few hours.

  Gone was the “Laugh-In” guy. Replaced by a threatening maniac who had a knife at my throat.

  Payne knew his anatomy. I’d give him that as he pressed the blade into the area of my carotid artery.

  Big-time bleeder when cut, that ol’ artery was. I was talking pumping out the entire ten pints of blood that the average human being has in their circulatory system in a very short time.

  “Payne,” I mumbled. “Please. Let me go, and we can make a deal.”

  He’d slowly eased his hold so I could talk. Or make that money could talk. When he let go and started to ask what I meant, I kneed him again, used a few self-defense moves Jagger had taught me, and before I knew it, I was running like hell down the corridor, through the empty reception area and out the door.

  In my haste, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t sound as if Payne was fast on my heels, and I wasn’t stupid enough to turn to look.

  I pushed at the front door so hard, it swung out with a thud-and I banged smack-dab into Jagger and Lilla.

  I screamed.

  Jagger shook his head.

  Lilla pulled back as if she was afraid of me, and I started to chatter on and on.

  Jagger grabbed my shoulders. “Calm down, Pauline. What the hell are you talking about?” He’d grown serious and with the use of my name, yanked me out of my hysteria long enough to tell him what I found out and how Payne tried to kill me.