by J C Fuller
“I don’t think we have a choice.” Lane took a step back, her eyes still lingering on Philip’s face. She was concerned his color wasn’t returning and wondered if he might already be in shock.
“Okay, and what about this guy?” Caleb jerked his head back towards Gabe. “Do we just leave him?”
“As much as I’d love to…” Lane pursed her lips together in thought. “We can’t leave him behind.”
“Then, what do we do? We can’t carry Phil out on a stretcher and help Gabe hobble out at the same time.” Caleb ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.
“Maybe if you sling Gabe over your shoulder and then we could rig a stretcher? Try to carry Philip out that way?” Lane rubbed her forehead, trying to think it through. “We just gotta get him to the tru—"
“Sheriff Lane!” It sounded like Jerry…
Lane’s head snapped towards the direction of the yell, her hand falling away from her face. There was another bellow in the same voice. “Deputy Caleb! Sheriff Lane!”
“Jerry?” Lane hollered back, surprised to hear his voice.
At a run, she headed in the direction of his call, pushing her way through bushes and tree boughs. “Jerry!” she yelled his name again, this time her voice flooded with relief.
Spotting Jerry not far from the trucks, her heart lurched in her chest to see Ethan and Doctor Hadley right behind him. The old doctor doing his best to hold a back-board brace under his arm like a surf board, his black medicine bag gripped in his left hand.
“Oh, thank God!” Lane waved her arms, drawing Jerry’s attention. Help had arrived.
Chapter 44
Lane stood back, doing her best not to hover. A few feet away, the men had carefully placed Philip on the back-board brace, using it as a stretcher. Their hurried motions blocking most of her view.
Ethan, who had taken charge, beckoned Caleb over. Instructing him to help Doctor Hadley support Philip’s head. He then quickly swabbed the inside crick of Philip’s elbow, before reaching back into his medical kit. On the other side Lane could see Jerry strapping a blood pressure cuff around the opposite arm and vigorously beginning to pump. His face stoic and pale, which Lane thought did not bode well.
Doctor Hadley, positioned at Philip’s head, moved over to make room for Caleb. He then showed him how to hold the oxygen mask over Philip’s mouth, mumbling something to Caleb about needing to bring his saturation levels up.
“Sheriff, give me room?” Ethan asked politely, reaching past her leg, grabbing for a sterile package.
Despite her best efforts, she was hovering.
“Sorry.” Lane stumbled back a few paces.
Ethan glanced back at her, making sure she was out of his way and jerked his head, indicating for her to move further to the right.
“I need to get fluids into his system so the remaining blood he has can carry oxygen to his brain,” Ethan explained, catching her eye.
Lane quickly nodded she understood and took another step back, watching as Ethan carefully inserted an IV, taping it down. He tossed the packaging to the side, it landing at her feet.
“Here, Sheriff. Take this. It’s plasma,” Ethan instructed sharply, handing her a clear bag attached to the IV line. “And keep it held high!” He then lurched to his feet, motioning for Caleb to take Doctor Hadley’s spot. “We need to take a look at that leg.”
Examining the belt tourniquet, both men voiced their concerns. Lane, hanging on their every word, realized due to the length of time the leg had been bound, nerve and soft tissue damage may have already evolved. Waiting was no longer an option.
“Go stand by Caleb, Sheriff. I need room.” Doctor Hadley grabbed the trauma sheers from the medic kit and started cutting through Philip’s pants, ripping the fabric away from his thigh. He then tossed the excess material and sheers to the side and took a deep breath.
“Ready?”
Catching Ethan’s eye, the old doctor gave a curt nod, before gripping the tourniquet and wrenching the belt buckle lose.
“Got it!” Ethan said through gritted teeth, pushing down hard on Philip’s leg, leveraging his full weight against him.
“Don’t let up!” The old doctor warned, starting to apply padding.
Wrapping the thigh with tight pressure bandages, his wrinkled hands moved with steady confidence. Lane was surprised with how little time it took him. She inched a step closer.
“How’s it looking?” Ethan asked her, turning his head, trying to see the doctor’s hands, then glanced up at Caleb. “He still breathing?” Caleb jerkily nodded his head yes, a wry smile cracking his face.
“Alright, think we got it,” Doctor Hadley placed a bloody hand on Ethan’s shoulder, indicating he could relieve pressure.
Both sat back on their hunches, breathing hard.
“Well?” Dr Hadley asked, his breath coming heavy from exertion and adrenaline.
All eyes turned to Jerry, eager to see if their efforts had made a difference.
“His blood pressure is coming up.” Jerry nodded, a small smile breaking across his somber face. “He’s stable.”
Doctor Hadley gave Ethan a hearty slap on the back, then used him as leverage to pull himself up. Lane rushed over and grabbed the elderly doctor’s arm, assisting him the rest of the way.
“Thank you, Sheriff,” he gave her a tired smile, and waved her off. Gingerly, he pulled a white handkerchief out of his back pocket and patted his sweat covered face, tossing the bloodied handkerchief to the ground with a grunt. “This is hard work for an old man.”
Lane watched the doctor’s smile falter.
“What’s going on here?” Doctor Hadley pointed towards Gabe, who still sat on the ground handcuffed. He started to walk towards him, but Lane put a restraining hand on the old man’s arm.
“He’s the one who swapped Brent’s EpiPen,” Lane said softly, her grip tightening as she felt the doctor stagger back, unsteady on his feet. Caleb stepped up behind the doctor and put a reassuring hand on his back.
“I’ll take a look at him,” Ethan said quietly, and got up. Using the back of his arm he wiped his brow, before snapping off his latex gloves to grab a fresh pair. “What happen to him?”
Lane handed Caleb the plasma bag to hold and walked with Ethan over to Gabe, who was sitting flat on the ground leaned up against a tree trunk, his legs stretched out. He was looking pale and tired, though his eyes were still puffy and red. She frankly had forgotten all about him.
“I smashed his knee in with a rock,” Lane said, giving Gabe a steely-eyed glare. Ethan’s eyebrows shot up as he looked from Gabe back to Sheriff Lane. “Believe me,” she added, “It was in self-defense.”
Ethan nodded his head, not questioning the sheriff and started to bend down to look at Gabe’s knee. He suddenly stopped, tilting his ear over his shoulder. “Hear that?”
Everyone paused, holding their breath.
“It’s a helicopter!” Caleb announced loudly, pointing to the sky. Everyone’s eyes eagerly scanned the horizon. “There!” A bright orange and white chopper came into view, steadily growing closer.
An unexpected moan sounded from the ground and all eyes wandered down to Philip. He was trying to say something, his head slightly moving back and forth. Jerry put a reassuring hand on his chest, instructing him to stay still and signaled for Lane to make her way over.
“Phil, you’ve been shot. We’ve got you hooked up to some plasma and the helicopter just got here. They’re going be taking you to the hospital. I need you to stay still,” Jerry said calmly and clearly, his hand still on Philip’s chest.
Philip’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Lane and then on Jerry. He moved his hand up, trying to push away the oxygen mask. Caleb and the plasma bag moved with him, fearful of him pulling out the IV.
“Ranger, keep still,” Lane said sternly, utter relief causing a lump in her throat. “You’re still not out of the woods yet…. literally.”
Philip’s eyes wondered from her to Jerry and he tri
ed to remove the oxygen again, mumbling through the mask.
“Here. He’s bound and determined.” Jerry moved the mask to the side so Philip could be heard.
“Jer, I need you to…take care…. of uncle chu—"
Jerry replaced the mask and gave Philip an exaggerated nod of the head.
“I will. Don’t worry.” Philip fumbled for the mask again and Jerry huffed, “Last time, no more talking.” He removed the mask and Philip’s eyes wandered to Lane.
“You…okay?” Philip’s eyes ran across her face and down the front of her uniform.
Lane suddenly imagined what a sight she must look. The front of her uniform unbuttoned and covered in mud, her hair falling out of its bun. A large bruise forming across her chin and cheek. Scratches up and down her arms, already looking swollen and red. All in all, she thought she probably looked better than she felt.
“I’m a big girl,” she reassured him with a nod and a smile, as she self-consciously started to button up her blouse, covering her bare mid-section and the remains of her mud stained tank top.
“Must have worn your…. big girl panties toda—”
Lane moved the mask back over Philip’s mouth, giving him a teary-eyed smile.
“Yeah, he’s going to be fine.”
Chapter 45
Lane pulled in front of the veterinarian’s clinic taking the parking spot next to Jerry’s pickup, happy she’d caught him at the office. Springing nimbly from the truck, she leaned back in, grabbing the large basket of homemade muffins sitting on the front seat. This was her last delivery, having dropped off a basket at Doctor Hadley’s and another at the fire station. A small token of thanks.
It had been a month since Gabe’s arrest, most of it a huge whirlwind. The first week had been daunting, dealing with the media frenzy the arrest had caused and hardly being able to go anywhere on the island or the mainland without a small crowd of reporters nipping at her heels. Caleb had been a big help warding off the cameras and pushy reporters, freeing Lane to spend what little free time she had filling out copious amounts of paperwork.
She spent the second week documenting Gabe’s confession and building the case after his arrest. Charged with the twins and Brent Allister’s murder, Gabe was also facing three counts of Attempted Murder against Lucas, Lane, and Philip. With the new evidence Lane had managed to collect, it promised to be an open and shut case. However, with the advice of a particularly sharp and sleezy lawyer, Gabe ended up pleading not guilty, declaring an Irresistible Impulse Insanity Defense. Meaning, he knew what he was doing was wrong, but couldn’t help himself.
Despite the plea, the State Prosecutor seemed confident the jury wouldn’t swallow the hogwash and hopefully Gabe would spend the rest of his life in prison. Lane prayed he was right. Gabe was a dangerous young man, who was a threat to society…not to mention, he’d been deadly to those who were his nearest and dearest friends.
When Lane hadn’t been locked in her office, buried under an ever-growing mound of paperwork, she was over on the mainland bouncing back and forth between hospital rooms.
Lucas, recovering from a severe head injury, ended up making a full but slow recovery. It had taken several weeks to piece his hazy recollections together and even then, there were still moments he couldn’t quite recall.
For instance, he couldn’t remember why the two friends had dropped the idea of the cave hunt in favor of the waterfall hike. Or how his full water bottle had suddenly become empty, leading to Gabe’s offer to refill it from the creek. It must have been then, that Gabe slipped the drug into Lucas’s water bottle unseen.
What Lucas did recall was feeling nausea and a little dizzy after drinking from it. He’d been standing near the waterfall trying to find a good foot hold and determine if it was something they should even attempt. Gabe seemed impatient and goaded him. Telling him, he was taking too long and being a chicken. Rising to the challenge, he’d only made it a few feet off the ground, when he lost his footing. Luca said he remembered his legs feeling rubbery as he’d tried to stagger back to his feet.
He then tried to tell Gabe he wasn’t feeling good, the words heavy on his tongue. That was when Gabe attacked him from behind, welding a rock. The rock had glanced off Lucas’s temple, crushing down onto his shoulder as he stumbled to the side at the last second.
Lucas later told Lane it was pure reflex to grab his bear spray. Said he didn’t even remember pulling the trigger before passing out. It was also his good luck he’d fallen backwards instead forwards on his face, where he most likely would have drowned.
Lane theorized at this point, having been in essence pepper sprayed, Gabe had dropped to the ground, spending several minutes in agonizing pain. Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, Lucas’s actions had given Lane and Philip the advantage, allowing them a chance to catch up.
Once Gabe was able to see again, he got back onto his feet, grabbed the biggest rock he could man handle and stood over Lucas, intent on crushing in his head. He would have succeeded, had Lane not come bursting upon the scene right at that moment.
Lane theorized Gabe most likely would have claimed another accident. Maybe another fall? Staging it to look as if Lucas had slipped and fell. Loose rocks collapsing down on him, crushing in his head. People may have found it suspicious, but there would have been no way to prove it to be murder.
Gabe’s attempt to make Lucas a second scapegoat and muddy the waters of Danie and Janie’s death almost succeeded. After interviewing Lucas, it was clear he had never found the memory card for the camera or even approached Brent about it. Gabe had it in his possession the whole time, framing Lucas and even hinting it might have been him who damaged the memory card. Lane also came to realize there was never anything between Janie and Lucas beyond friendship. Gabe’s efforts to smear his friend and create suspicion was just an attempt to send her down a trail of scapegoats.
After collecting Lucas’s memories of the attack, along with Philip’s interviews and Lane’s notes, plus handing over the trail camera pictures, it was now in the hands of the court and lawyers. All in all, they’d been lucky…without the trail camera, the pieces may never have come together.
It wasn’t luck Lane attributed to Philip’s recovery though. The bullet which pierced his thigh had missed his femoral artery and all major nerves. He was lucky to be alive, with luck having nothing to do with it as far as Lane was concerned. Her daily prayers were filled with gratitude.
His hospital room was constantly filled with well-wishers and flowers…and Harry. Colleagues from the U.S. forest station and wildlife department came and went, along with half the island and out of town family. Lane would pop her head in daily, say a quick hello and make sure he didn’t need anything before heading out to let his visitors enjoy their time with him. After two weeks, he was released, but stayed in Seattle with his uncle Chuck and cousin Julie while working through his physical therapy. She hadn’t been able to see him since and wondered when he would be returning back home to the island.
Speaking of the island, the majority of the folks were thankful everything had come to light. However, there were a few who seemed to hold Lane to blame. Mike Allister, for one. He held her solely responsible for his grandson’s death. Telling her in no uncertain terms, if she hadn’t been suspicious of Brent, Gabe might very well of let him be and looked for a different scapegoat. She alone, in his opinion, had pointed Gabe straight to Brent much like a loaded gun. She knew he was speaking out of grief and though she was sorry Brent had died, she wouldn’t apologize for doing her job. She could have added, if his grandfather lawyer had allowed the boy speak freely, things might have worked out very differently.
The rest of the people were those who had known Gabe in a different capacity and could not be convinced of his guilt. After all, …he was a boy who grew up on the island. A volunteer for the fire department. A man who took down their ailments on a clipboard and calmed their fears at the doctor’s office. Someone they had always found to be kind and trust
ing. And because of it, it left them feeling all the more violated. But there was nothing she could do about that.
Gripping the basket tightly, Lane walked up to the front counter, saying a friendly hello to Alice the receptionist, a chorus of dog barks and howls greeting her at the sound of her voice.
“Hi, I just wanted to drop these off for Doctor Holmes.” Lane attached a greeting card to the gingham cloth covering the muffins and placed the basket onto the counter.
“Oh, blueberry. That’s his favorite.” Alice smiled, peeking under the blanket before leaning in to whisper, “Mine too.”
Lane returned the smile, slipping one of the muffins out of the basket and handing it over. “Here.”
“Hey! Those for me?” Jerry had stepped out of an examination room to cross the hallway into another and spotted Lane. Quickly tossing a clipboard into a slot by the door he made his way up front. “Oooo, blueberry!” He handed Alice a file and quickly mumbled something about room two needing a flea treatment. “I didn’t know you baked?”
“A new hobby,” Lane admitted. “Also, my way of saying thank you and my apologies for not being around for the last month.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Jerry snatched up a muffin, “Can you come back and chat for a moment?” He waved, muffin in hand, beckoning Lane to follow him into his office and then turned to Alice, “Tell George Barnes and his basset hound, I’ll just be a few minutes.”
Lane followed behind and took the seat offered to her as Jerry sat on the corner of his desk. She watched as he gave his mustache a quick curl.
“How have you been?” Lane started, taking a quick glance around his office, never having seen it before.
“I’ve been good…really good.” Jerry’s smile spread wider, “How about you? Things finally settling down?”