And Angus couldn't seem to summon the level of adrenaline needed to keep him focussed and involved in what was going down. He was cut off by more than a lack of contact with his colleagues. He didn't want to be doing this right now.
He wanted to be with Fliss.
Holding her.
Listening to her. The revelation about her mother had been stunning. It had never occurred to Angus to wonder why Fliss had never really spoken about her. Why there had been no photographs. Again, he had made an assumption that her father had been the more important figure in her life and the impact of his death had magnified his position.
Beneath those few, choked words Fliss had spoken tonight had clearly been a deep love. Anguish at losing her mother as well as her father. Not a clean cut either. The wound had festered slowly for years, leaving a vulnerable teenager feeling bewildered, abandoned, unworthy and ultimately guilty.
The scars would run deep but Angus wasn't afraid to take them on. To help Fliss heal.
What else could he do? He loved her. That love had only increased with the understanding of why Fliss had been so afraid. Why she'd seen no future for them. And why she'd said what she had about not wanting him to be the father of her children.
She'd seen what happened to a loving family when a father's sacrifice for the career he'd loved had been too great. On an instinctive level Fliss had every reason to fear that she wouldn't be able to cope any better than her mother had. Every reason to fear for what their children might have to go through.
She knew that pain only too well.
Right now Angus could feel it too. He needed to be by the side of the woman he loved. To coax that child within her to show its tear-stained face again so that he could at least start to try and kiss it better.
The need was so strong Angus found himself turning to look in the direction from which they had just come.
'Gus—get down!'
A rough hand grabbed him and Angus found himself sprawling on the side of the gravel road. Rolling under the prickles of a hawthorn hedge as a single shot rang out.
Loud enough to hurt his ears.
Close enough for him to actually hear the horrible scream of a high-velocity bullet as it went past, inches from his head—through the hedge and into a window of a nearby house, where the glass shattered with a bang that seemed to echo the gunfire.
Angus didn't need Seth's hand pressing on his back to remind him to keep his head down. He couldn't afford to think about Fliss any more. He had to focus completely if he wanted to get out of this alive.
And he had to get out alive because otherwise he would never see Fliss again.
The doors were locked.
The curtains on the windows were drawn shut.
The light was still a muted glow from the desk lamp on the floor.
Nothing had changed as far as the available security for the people within the small medical centre of Morriston, except that Angus and Seth were no longer there.
And that was enough to make Fliss feel totally exposed. Very, very afraid. More vulnerable than she had ever felt in her entire life.
Or had that moment come when Angus had told her he loved her and she hadn't had the time to respond?
What if she never saw him again?
If she could never, ever feel as whole as she had when he had held her while she'd shared some of that dark cloud that had always hung over her?
Fliss wasn't afraid for her own physical safety.
She was afraid for Angus.
She was also deeply concerned for the people in her care who were obviously feeling the vacuum left by the departure of what had, effectively, been an armed guard.
Just as obviously, Fliss had been left in command.
'What would you like me to do?' Wayne was crouched beside Roger, who was staring at Jack's body with an expression where horror and disbelief were still in conflict.
'Help me move Jack,' Fliss said quietly. 'We'll put him back on his mattress and I'll find a blanket to cover him.'
The living needed her attention more but Fliss had to take just a minute or two out of respect for this brave old man. She removed the ugly tube still protruding from his mouth and couldn't help shedding another few tears as she smoothed the beard, still blackened with boot polish. Jack had been on her side from the moment she'd arrived in Morriston, hadn't he? He'd made her feel welcome. Needed. He'd supported her to the best of his ability. Far more than he'd needed to as far as tonight's circumstances had dictated. Would he still be alive now if he hadn't pushed himself to help her? Callum probably wouldn't be. Fliss would make sure that everybody in Morriston knew how heroic Jack's last hours had been.
She closed Jack's eyes, removed the electrodes stuck to his chest and took out the IV line in his arm. Then she gently drew a blanket over the first patient she had seen in this small community, knowing that she was drawing a curtain over a phase in her life that was rapidly coming to a close.
Having been with Jack when this terrible night had begun—when that first shot had been heard—made it somehow fitting that another shot rang out as she draped the blanket over Jack's face and shut his body away from the world for the moment.
Wayne leapt to his feet and swore vehemently. Then he gave Fliss an apologetic glance. 'That was bloody close,' he added by way of an excuse.
Fliss simply nodded. 'Stay with Roger,' she said calmly. 'Stay sitting down and keep your heads below the level of the windows.'
'Won't do any good if he decides to break in.'
'He won't.'
'How do you know that?'
'The police are closing in on him. He's shooting in self-defence.'
She didn't voice the thought that Darren could possibly be shooting to try and escape being cornered. If the effects of mind-altering drugs had worn off he might realise what he'd done and take the only escape route available. And maybe suicide was the preferable option.
At least that way Angus would be safe.
No. Fliss shook her head as she moved to Callum and crouched beside the small boy. Suicide could never be the best answer to anything.
The multiple, rapid shots that came in response to the single retort they had heard suggested that things were far from finished in Morriston. More than one person was out there, possibly trying to stave off capture and arrest. They were clearly prepared to do battle with the authorities and they had already proven their lack of consideration for any consequences of random shooting.
Fliss reattached the electrodes to the life pack, which was no longer needed by Jack. A red light was flashing to warn that battery power had been largely depleted by the energy used in trying to restart the old man's heart. Fliss could only hope they would hold out for monitoring duties because it would take hours to recharge them.
Callum stirred and whimpered and Fliss smoothed back his hair. 'It's OK, sweetheart,' she murmured. 'It'll all be over soon.'
'Cody-y...'
Oh, God. Fliss had forgotten about Callum's missing twin. Had he been within range of the latest volley of shots they'd heard? Could the small boy have been caught in the crossfire—as Maria had been? Her head was too full of fear for others right now. Especially the fear she had for Angus. The level of tension was enough for Fliss to be aware of a slight tremor in her hands as she reached for Callum's wrist. What she needed to do was to focus and look after her patients.
Impossible to push Angus away completely, though. Fliss watched the rhythm on the screen of the life pack, her fingers on Callum's wrist to check the quality of his pulse, and she could remember how it felt to have her cheek resting on Angus's chest—feeling the steady beat of his heart. His life.
Was that heart still beating? Was he safe?
Callum's heart rate had increased slightly but it was steady and his radial pulse strong enough to reassure Fliss that his blood pressure was within acceptable limits. His breathing was also steady. No need to try and drain any more air from his chest cavity.
Angus had perform
ed that procedure so competently. He'd been so gentle with the boy. He'd be a wonderful father.
How could Fliss have been cruel enough to tell him she didn't want him to be the father of her children?
What if he was killed tonight and his last memory of her were those words instead of what she should have told him before he'd left?
That she loved him.
So much.
The bag of IV fluid running into Callum and helping to keep his blood pressure up was well past half-empty. Fliss turned the rate down to make it last a little longer and reminded herself to keep a close watch on his blood pressure from now on.
Roger needed more fluids but there were no new bags of saline to replace the empty one. Fliss turned the wheel on the line to shut off the connection before blood could start backing up the line in the vacuum.
'How are you feeling, Roger?'
'Bit sick. Dizzy. My arm hurts.' Roger glanced across at the shrouded figure of Jack and he swallowed hard. 'I'm OK,' he amended soberly.
Fliss moved into the surgery where Maria was cradling her newborn. She thought about stitching Maria's episiotomy wound but that slight tremor she could still feel in her hands could mean the result would be less than perfect and that wouldn't be good enough. The wound was covered with a damp gauze pad and the epidural was still effective enough to keep Maria comfortable. That repair could be done at the same time as the surgery she would need on her leg.
Maria clearly wasn't thinking about any medical procedures she still needed. She was completely focussed on her newborn and the baby was staring back up at his mother with intent, wide-open eyes.
'That noise didn't bother him at all.' Maria sounded curiously calm herself, given that she would have recognised the sound of the gunshot for what it was. 'Isn't he an angel?'
'He's gorgeous.'
'I can't wait for his dad to meet him. And the girls.'
'He'll probably get his photo in the papers. He'll be famous.'
'Why?'
'Not many babies get born under siege conditions. Not in this country anyway.'
'No.' Maria smiled wryly. 'It'll be something to remember, won't it? Nobody's going to forget the night this one was born.'
Fliss smiled back. She would certainly remember this birth for the rest of her life. A moment of joy amidst fear and tragedy. Something to hang onto.
If Angus didn't come back, what memories would she cling to with him? That moment of closeness in the laundry? The early days of being so passionately in love?
She could have had so many more memories, couldn't she, if she hadn't wasted the last three months of her life by being apart from Angus?
Would it make it any easier not to have extra memories to agonise over? Close moments that would stand out and make her miss him even more?
No. She would have treasured those moments. Jewels that could be used, in time, for comfort. Like the memories she had of her father. Of him taking her fishing, telling her the names of the trees and birds in a forest, watching a dragonfly settle on her extended hand for an instant and having her fear turn to excitement at her father's smile.
There had to be more moments for Fliss to collect with Angus.
She simply couldn't bear it if there weren't.
Like a drum roll to emphasise the significance of her thoughts, a volley of shots rang out. Shots that had to be coming from more than one weapon, given the variation in their sound and timing.
'Sounds like some sort of battle going on,' Wayne said nervously.
'Must've found the bastards,' Roger suggested.
Maria held her baby closer and closed her eyes as though sending up a silent prayer for their safety.
Fliss stood very still. Frozen by the fear generated from knowing that Angus was out there somewhere. Probably in the midst of all that shooting.
It was all too easy to allow that fear to become so much more personal. To admit how devastating it would be not to see Angus again.
If something happened to him, Fliss would lose the man she loved. The future she really wanted would no longer be available to her.
And any alternative could never be good enough to make up for that.
CHAPTER NINE
The silence was deafening.
Within the walls of Morriston's medical centre, everyone seemed to be holding their breath. The sounds of gunfire had reached a crescendo and then stopped. Suddenly. As though it had been a scene being filmed for a movie and the director had chopped the air with his hand and yelled, 'Cut!'
Was it over?
Had Darren been found? Cornered? Shot dead or arrested? Or had he managed to escape and was now moving under the last stretch of darkness this night could provide?
What would happen next?
Fliss was the first to break the silence as she moved to check on all those under her care.
'Maria? You OK?'
Maria was crying. Clutching her newborn son so tightly that he began wailing in protest. Fliss wrapped her arms around both of them.
'It's all right, hon. It must be over now. Hang in there.'
They'd hear something soon, surely? Someone in a uniform would come to tell them it was safe to leave. Safe to evacuate these patients to the definitive medical care they needed.
Maybe that someone would be Angus.. And Fliss would be close enough to him to try and convey how she felt—with just a look or a touch, until they could find time to be alone and talk to each other. The sooner that moment could come, the better.
She knelt beside Callum again, running through all his vital sign measurements. Blood pressure, heart rate and rhythm, breathing pattern and rate. Nothing had changed dramatically but Fliss could feel the kind of prickle on the back of her neck that she'd felt when this had all started. Back when she'd been standing in Jack's kitchen before the first shot had even been fired.
When she'd known something wasn't right. That something dreadful was out, there—just waiting to show itself.
She was feeling it again and Fliss frowned deeply as she gazed at the unconscious young boy. Was the new potential disaster that Callum was going to crash and there would be nothing she could do about it? She wouldn't even be able to run a resuscitation protocol now because the batteries on the life pack had been flattened by their attempt to save Jack.
A futile attempt, but Fliss couldn't allow herself to be drawn back into that grief.
'Roger? How are you feeling?'
'Bloody terrified,' the owner of the Hog responded. 'What the hell is going to happen next?'
'Rescue,' Fliss said firmly. 'But right now I'm going to get a proper dressing on that arm of yours. I'd hate you to get an infection on top of everything else.'
It was good to have something practical and easy to do like cleaning a wound and dressing it—at least that was something she could still do competently, despite that annoying tremor that wouldn't go away.
Wayne was shaking a lot more than Fliss was. He seemed young and vulnerable enough to tug at her heart strings almost as much as Callum did. She looked up from positioning the sterile pad over the open flesh on Roger's upper arm.
'How are you doing, Wayne?' Fliss smiled at Roger's employee. 'You all right?'
He swallowed hard and then tried to return her smile. 'I thought backpacking around New Zealand might be an exciting thing to do for a year or so. I had no idea!'
'It's never been this exciting before.' Roger shook his head. 'I think I should pack my bags and head back to the city after this.'
'And I should've stayed home,' Wayne said. 'Gone to varsity instead of having a gap year.'
Fliss could detect something beneath the young man's obvious fear. A kind of excitement or exhilaration at being part of something so dangerous. The kind of buzz that could grow to be an attraction. Was it a macho thing? Part of what had driven Angus into the career he loved?
'How old are you, Wayne?'
'Nineteen,' he told her.
'And what are you planning to do at univers
ity?'
'Hadn't really thought about it yet. I wouldn't mind being a doctor after watching you tonight.'
'Not as exciting as being a cop. Or a paramedic.'
'Yeah.' Wayne's smile was much brighter this time. 'Those guys are something else, aren't they? I'd love to do the kind of job Angus does.'
'Yeah.' Fliss taped the end of the bandage securely, around Roger's arm. Then her head turned swiftly towards the door. 'What was that?'
'What?' The two men looked in the same direction.
'I thought I heard something. Listen.'
The sound came again. Louder this time. A vehicle of some sort was moving nearby. Then came the sound of heavy doors slamming, boots scraping rapidly in gravel and finally a loud rap on the door of the medical centre.
'Police,' a voice shouted.
'And ambulance,' another voice said. 'You still in there, Dr Slade?'
Fliss turned to find both Wayne and Roger staring at her. Waiting. Giving her the power to end this nightmare for them all by acknowledging rescue and unlocking the door still keeping the rest of the world at bay.
She found her legs distinctly wobbly as she moved to do exactly that and it was hard to return the smile she received from John, a local paramedic she had met on more than one occasion.
'You all right, Dr Slade?'
'I'm fine, thanks, John.'
'I'm Detective Inspector Ross Stringer.' The man beside John introduced himself. 'Do you have any patients needing urgent evacuation?'
The senior police officer was frowning as he took in the sight of Callum, the life pack beside him with an empty bag of IV fluid draped over its handle. His frown deepened as he shone his torch on the mattress beside the young boy.
'You've had a fatality?'
'Yes.'
'Gunshot wound?'
'No. Probably a heart attack. An elderly patient of mine who was unwell before any of this started.' Fliss turned to speak to the paramedic. 'The most urgent evacuation is Callum here. He's six years old and has an abdominal gunshot wound. He developed a tension pneumothorax which has been treated but he's in shock. His blood pressure's not stable and I'm out of fluids. Have you got some saline with you at the moment?'
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