UNEASY PREY Page 9

  Earl eased Medic Two around the flares and the stopped traffic. One of the firefighters directed them toward a pickup with its grill wrapped around a phone pole. Zoe jumped out, yanked open the side door to the ambulance’s passenger compartment, and grabbed the jump kit before jogging after her partner.

  Seth Metzger stood at the pickup’s open driver’s side door. The man behind the wheel tried to shove the deployed airbags aside. “I’m fine.”

  “The paramedics are here. Let them examine you just to be sure,” the young officer said.

  The patient grumbled but didn’t argue when Zoe caught his wrist to feel his pulse and Earl leaned over her to check the man’s pupils. “Are you having any pain?” she asked.

  “Yeah. In my ass. Look at my truck.” He flung his hands up in frustration, pulling free from Zoe’s grasp and bumping Earl’s penlight.

  “I understand,” she told him. “But we need to make sure you don’t have any injuries requiring treatment.”

  The man growled but surrendered, extending his arm to her again. “Damn airbag popped me in the face. And my shoulder hurts where the seatbelt caught me. But that’s about it.”

  “You’d be a lot worse off if those two things hadn’t bruised you.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Pulse is a hundred,” Zoe said to Earl.

  He pocketed his penlight. “Pupils are equal and reactive.”

  She dug the blood-pressure cuff from the jump kit. “Sir? Can you slip your arm out of your coat?”

  While he complied and Earl started checking their patient’s head and neck, Seth cleared his throat. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I was on my way home from work, just cruising along,” the man said. “Under the speed limit, mind you. And this van blew through the stop sign on Veterans Street. I swerved to miss him, but he clipped my quarter panel. Threw me completely out of control and wham. I hit this pole.”

  Zoe glanced over her shoulder. There was no second vehicle anywhere around.

  “And this van kept going?” Seth asked.

  “Didn’t even slow down.”

  “Can you give me a description?” Seth clicked his pen. “Make? Model? Color? License number?”

  “It happened too fast. I have no idea about a make or model. And license?” He snorted a laugh. “No friggin’ way. But I can tell you it was white. A white transport van. No windows.”

  Seth swore.

  Zoe looked at him. “What’s wrong?” But as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew. “You don’t think it’s them, do you? I mean, there are a gazillion white vans around.”

  Seth’s jaw had tightened. “Yeah, but most of them wouldn’t run a stop sign. Or cause a traffic accident and keep going.” He gestured at the patient. “How is he?”

  “Vitals are all normal. Slightly elevated BP, and his pulse is a little rapid, but that’s to be expected under the circumstances.”

  Earl had completed his exam. “Doesn’t seem to have any broken bones. No double vision or headache.”

  “Can I get out now?” the patient asked.

  Earl folded his arms and eyed the man. “I’d still rather immobilize you and take you to the ER just to be sure.”

  “Do you guys get paid by the customer? I’m fine.” He motioned them away and stepped out of the truck. “See? I’m not going to no hospital. I just need to get a tow truck.”

  “One’s on the way,” Seth said.

  Earl shrugged. “I’ll need you to sign a treatment refusal form.”

  “No problem.”

  While Earl headed back to the ambulance for the paperwork, Zoe stuffed the blood-pressure cuff and stethoscope back into the jump kit.

  Seth looked around, his face tense. “I need to get going.” His voice matched his face.

  Zoe assumed he wanted to follow up on the van. “It’s long gone. You’ll never catch it now.”

  “I know.” Seth shook his head. “I was on my way to a call when I came across this.” He aimed a thumb at the pickup. “The call I was responding to was a resident reporting a man in a white panel van, alleging to be with the water company, who tried to gain access to her house.”

  Zoe shivered—and not because of the January night’s chill. “Not again.”

  “Yeah. And the address? 112 Second Street.”

  The chill turned frigid. “Sylvia Bassi’s house.”

  Sylvia Bassi had at one time been the Vance Township police secretary. Currently she served on the township’s board of supervisors. More than that, she was the community grandmother, and her late son had been one of Zoe’s dearest friends.

  One word neither Zoe nor any other local would use to describe Sylvia was “victim.” Yet when she opened her door to Zoe, Seth, and Earl, her round face was paler than usual, and she clutched a cast-iron skillet in her chubby hand.

  “I don’t need an ambulance,” she said as the trio crowded into her kitchen and closed the door behind them.

  Zoe took the skillet from her and set it on the stove. “Nobody does. We were up on Main Street at a traffic accident when we heard. The driver refused transport, so we thought we’d tag along.”

  Sylvia gestured at Zoe’s handheld radio. “As long as you’re 10-8 instead of 10-7.”

  They’d abandoned most of the ten codes years ago, but Zoe remembered them better than the Spanish she’d learned in high school. “Yes. Where Control is concerned, we’re available.”

  Seth took Sylvia by the arm and directed her to one of the chairs. “I, however, am here strictly on business.” He pulled out his notepad. “Tell me what happened.”

  Sylvia took a seat and hugged herself. “Damned young punk knocked on my door. Said he was with the water company and they were having some problems on this street. He needed to come inside to test the pressure.”

  A memory of Oriole Andrews crumpled at the foot of her basement stairs flashed through Zoe’s mind. “You didn’t let him in, did you?”

  “Good heavens, no. I’m not one of these eager-to-please old biddies they prey on.” Sylvia rubbed her arms. “I asked for ID. Didn’t expect him to have any, but he did.”

  Seth looked up from his notes. “Really?”

  “Fake.” Sylvia’s nose wrinkled as if she’d gotten a whiff of something foul. “And not a very good one either.”

  Seth glanced between Zoe and Earl. “That’s new.”

  Zoe tugged off her gloves and unzipped her jacket. “They know word’s getting out and one of the warnings you guys have been telling the public is to insist on seeing a company ID.”

  Earl let out a low growl. “The bad guys are following the news.”

  “What did you do after he produced identification?” Zoe asked.

  “I told him to come back tomorrow after I’d had a chance to call West Penn Water. He wasn’t happy about that. He tried to open my door, but I had it locked. When he tried to force it, I grabbed that.” Sylvia nodded toward the skillet. “I guess he reconsidered. Told me he’d be back in the morning, and then he skedaddled.”

  Seth touched his pen to his notepad. “Can you give me a description of the guy?”

  “You bet I can. Caucasian. Dark eyes. Dark hair on the long side. Like he was due for a trim. About five ten. I’d guess his weight as one seventy or so.”

  Seth lifted his head to look at her.

  “I was the police secretary and dispatcher for over thirty years.” She sat up straighter. “I learned a thing or two along the way. And I can tell you he wasn’t from around here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I didn’t recognize him. That’s how.”

  Zoe bit her lip to keep from smiling. Sylvia did indeed know everyone in Vance and the surrounding townships.

  “How about the vehicle?”

  “White Chevy panel van.”

&n
bsp; “Are you sure it was a Chevy?”

  She glared at him.

  “Right.” He made a note. “Chevy van. How about year?”

  “Fairly new. But I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

  A loud pounding at the door made them all flinch. Sylvia clutched at her chest. “Good lord. They wouldn’t be back already, would they?”

  Zoe pressed a hand to her own sternum to quell her racing heart. “With a police car and an ambulance sitting out front? Not likely.” She moved toward the door to answer it. “Probably a concerned neighbor.” A happier thought occurred to her. “Or Pete.”

  “Pete’s in Pittsburgh dealing with his sister and Harry,” Sylvia said. Sheepishly she added, “I called him first, before I dialed 911.”

  Zoe opened the door to a woman bundled in a dark coat with a colorful scarf. She toted a huge leather bag and flashed a determined smile. Rather than open the storm door, Zoe raised her voice. “May I help you?”

  The smile dissolved to irritation for a moment, but the woman quickly pasted it back on her face. She produced a business card, which she pressed to the glass. “My name is Lauren Sanders. I’m with The Phillipsburg Enterprise. I picked up a call on my scanner about a possible home invasion at this address.”

  Zoe had to take the woman’s word for her name and position. The glass between them had fogged from the cold, obscuring both the writing on the card and the reporter’s face.

  “Who is it?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Zoe zipped her jacket. “But I’ll find out.” She slipped outside, careful to block the reporter from attempting to push past her.

  “I think both of us would be more comfortable in the house,” the reporter said.

  Zoe stuffed her hands into her pockets and ignored the comment. “What paper did you say you were from?”

  “The Phillipsburg Enterprise.”

  Zoe opened her mouth to say she’d never heard of it, but the reporter must have been told the same thing before.

  “It’s new.” She held the card out to Zoe. “I’m following the story of the rash of home invasions by these con artists claiming to be with the water company. I’d very much like to interview their latest victim.”

  “Now isn’t a good time.”

  “And you are…?”

  Zoe almost said “a friend of the family,” but noticed the reporter gazing at the name tag and patches on her jacket. “I’m a paramedic with Monongahela EMS.”

  “So the victim suffered injuries during the invasion?”

  “It wasn’t an invasion. She didn’t let them in the house.”

  “Really?” The reporter reached into the leather bag and came up with a notepad and pen. “What else can you tell me? Why was the ambulance called?” She squinted again at Zoe’s name badge. “Zoe Chambers, is it?” Except the reporter pronounced it as if her name rhymed with Joe.

  “Zo-ee,” she replied instinctively.

  “And the victim’s name?”

  Bad enough the reporter had her name. No way was she giving up Sylvia’s. “You’ll have to get a statement from the police. I’m not at liberty to share details.”

  “I’ve been working closely with Chief Pete Adams and County Detective Wayne Baronick on this case.” The reporter smiled as she tossed out the names. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you gave me some information on this latest development.”

  Zoe bristled. Working closely with Pete? He hadn’t mentioned anything to her. Then again, they hadn’t spoken since they’d argued yesterday about her moving in with Mrs. Kroll.

  Zoe eyed the reporter, who wasn’t wearing makeup, but even in the harsh shadows of the overhead porch light, Zoe could tell the woman was attractive. Very attractive.

  And was that big grin when she mentioned Pete’s name because she was trying to gain Zoe’s trust or because the thought of him brought a smile to her lips?

  Stop it.

  Zoe shook off the flash of jealousy. “As I said, I’m not at liberty to—”

  The storm door behind her crashed open, slamming her in the back. She staggered.

  Seth charged through it. “Sorry. Zoe, we need to get your equipment out of the ambulance.” He ran past her toward Medic Two.

  Ignoring the reporter, Zoe jogged after him. “Why?”

  “It’s Sylvia. We think she’s having a heart attack.”

  TEN

  Pete wheeled his personal vehicle into one of the spots outside the Emergency Department reserved for law enforcement. The Ford Edge was packed to overflowing with a bookshelf, suitcases, novels, photos, and bags of who-knew-what. Stuff that Nadine felt vital to Harry’s comfort at the nursing home.

  Assisted-living facility. Nadine had already corrected him three times this evening. Pete needed to pound the politically correct term into his brain.

  Right now his mind was on Sylvia. Her phone call earlier about those bastards coming to her door had infuriated him—especially when he was forty miles away and couldn’t respond. But Zoe’s call about Sylvia being taken to the ER had terrified him.

  He blew through the automatic doors and paused at security long enough to flash his badge and tell the guy not to have the Edge towed or ticketed. At the registration desk, a tired but cordial woman in pink scrubs directed him to room four and buzzed him into the treatment area.

  The sliding glass door to the room was open, as was the privacy curtain. Sylvia, attired in a faded hospital gown, sprouted wires and tubes leading to a heart monitor, oxygen, and an IV pump. Zoe, in her paramedic uniform, stood next to her. Both looked up when he entered.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, keeping his voice soft and jovial. “I leave the township for one evening and you end up in here.”

  “I wish I knew.” Sylvia’s scowl vacillated between annoyance and worry. “They stick me in this glass fishbowl, poke me with needles, paste a bunch of patches on my chest, and then abandon me.”

  Zoe shrugged. “Hurry up and wait.”

  Pete glanced at his watch. “You called me more than an hour ago. I thought you’d be back in service by now.”

  “I was. It’s been a busy night. We didn’t even make it back to the garage before getting another call.” Zoe rested a hand on Sylvia’s arm. “I’m checking on my first patient of the night while Earl’s restocking supplies.”

  Sylvia snorted. “Your first patient just wants to get out of here. I was supposed to go over to Bertie’s house this evening to play bridge with the girls.”

  “You’re going to be late.”

  If she made it at all, which Pete doubted.

  “I’m already late. Where’s that darned doctor?”

  As if on cue, a distinguished-looking silver-haired man in a white lab coat breezed into the cubicle. “Hello, Zoe. Mrs. Bassi.” He eyed Pete.

  “Dr. Fuller, this is Pete Adams,” Zoe said. “He’s our police chief in Vance Township.”

  Pete realized he was in his civvies, making the added introduction necessary. They shook hands.

  The doctor raised an eyebrow at Sylvia. “Would you prefer we talk in private?”

  She waved the hand not bound by IVs, blood-pressure cuffs, and oxygen monitors. “These two are the closest I have to family right now. I’d rather they hear whatever it is directly from you.”

  “All right.” The doctor crossed his arms. “Your blood work shows your LDL, or bad cholesterol, is a little too high and your HDL, or good cholesterol, is a little too low. Otherwise, everything is well within the normal range. Your EKG concerns me though. I don’t believe you’ve had a heart attack, but I do want to admit you overnight and order a stress test for tomorrow morning. If you pass it, you can go home tomorrow afternoon. Maybe even late morning.”

  “And if I don’t pass?”

  The doctor shot a glance at Pete and then Zoe before meetin
g Sylvia’s gaze again. “Cardiac catheterization.”

  She squirmed. “Can’t I just go home and promise to eat a lot of salads?”

  “Afraid not. I’d rather get to the bottom of this sooner than later.”

  “You said I didn’t have a heart attack.”

  “I said I didn’t believe you had one. But there’s something going on in there. Let’s find out what and get you treated. Okay?”

  Sylvia scoffed. “No, it’s not okay. I’ll stay for the stress test. But if I flunk it, you’ll have to catch me to go sticking any probes inside my heart.”

  He chuckled. “Mrs. Bassi, if you can outrun our orderlies, you don’t need a heart cath.” He shook her hand as well as Zoe’s and Pete’s, promising to get Sylvia admitted in a room upstairs as soon as possible.

  Once the doctor had left, Pete caught Zoe’s gaze and tipped his head toward the hall. She nodded. He turned to Sylvia. “I need to talk to Zoe for a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Smart ass.”

  Zoe scooped her winter jacket off the back of the chair and bid goodnight to Sylvia before stepping out of the treatment room with him.

  He hadn’t seen her since she’d moved in with Mrs. Kroll, which felt like days. He wanted to order her to get her sexy ass back home—his home.

  Their home.

  But the busy ER hallway, with Sylvia on the other side of the glass, tethered to IVs and monitors, wasn’t the right place for another heated debate over Zoe’s ability to take care of herself. One disaster at a time. “I want to know what happened tonight.” He kept his voice low. “All of it.”

  “Have you talked to Seth?”

  “Briefly. But I want to hear about it from you.”

  Zoe fell silent for a moment. Then she said, “It was them again. The guys pretending to be with the water company.”

  “I know that much. Sylvia called my cell phone as soon as they left. I ordered her to call 911.” He tilted his head down toward Zoe. “Did they cause this?”