“Bullshit.”
“ETA three minutes out,” the voice on the other side of the walkie-talkie called out.
“There’s a note,” Preston said, pointing at the paper on the floor. The moonlight reflected off the white paper.
“I need a light,” Beau replied as he reached for the paper, sighing in relief when he felt Savannah take a breath beneath his hand resting on her neck.
Preston used his phone to shine a light from the flash on the back of the device.
I’m sorry that I must leave you. Things became too hard with the problems in Baltimore. The report I filed was false. I had hoped to make some money in exchange for the charges. Forgive me,
Dr. Savannah Monroe
Immediately Beau recognized the signature and the wording wasn’t Savannah’s. She never worded her sentences in that manner, nor would she ever falsify an animal abuse report for money – she’d grown up with enough of it.
Beau handed the note over to Preston and bent over, shifting his arms to cradle Savannah. He easily lifted her and settled her limp body against his chest.
“Beau, we need to sweep the scene.”
“She didn’t write it. It’s close to her handwriting but not exact. And she would never falsify a report on animal cruelty. Especially for the money. Her parents have millions.”
With wide eyes, Preston stared at him dumbfounded.
“What?”
“She didn’t write it. When will the ambulance be here? I’m afraid of her slipping into a coma. She’s probably gone through cardiac arrest!” Beau shouted as he made his way out of the house. The vomit on her clothes and coating her body didn’t deter him. Beau was on a mission to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible.
“They’re a minute out.”
“Shit,” he said as her body quivered in his arms. Swiftly he laid her on the ground at his feet and held her body as still as he could as the seizure passed through her system. Preston rushed forward, turning her head to the side to prevent choking.
“Oh, baby,” Beau murmured, stifling his sobs until she was safely in the ambulance, which wasn’t close enough for his comfort.
“I’m sorry, man. I’m so sorry.” Preston held his fingers to her wrist and his watch was up against his face. He was clocking her heartbeats. They were dissipating with each second that passed. Beau had felt the same.
Unable to hold back, Beau lifted Savannah into a sitting position and held her against his chest, murmuring his I love yous over and over until the red and white lights of the ambulance paraded across the lawn and house, like a Christmas display.
The two paramedics on duty came over to Beau and did their best to move Savannah from his arms, but Beau wasn’t budging. If they were taking her, they were taking him. He was fairly certain a growl escaped his mouth.
A hand landed on his shoulder and he snarled toward its owner until he noticed it was Preston standing above him.
“They need to take her, man. They’ll get her help, but you need to let her go.”
“I can’t,” he sobbed, his vision growing blurry as he stood, carrying her in his arms as if she were part of his being. “I can’t. I just got her.”
“Sir, please.”
Something came over him. The will to keep her living. His love. A higher being. But something told him to let them help. Wordlessly, Beau carried her to the ambulance, stepped inside and placed her gently on the stretcher. He watched as they began hooking up probes and needles. Beau wanted to protest, but when the monitor picked up her heart rate, he sat on the closest bench and stayed put.
Off in the distance, he heard Preston relay what he knew about the incident and that he had administered Narcan before their arrival.
The doors slammed on the ambulance and Beau jerked in surprise.
“You can hold her hand,” a tall, slender woman said as she pried Savannah’s eyes open and shined a small light inside. He heard her tell the other paramedic that there was no dilation.
“Do you know if there was any sexual assault?” she turned to ask him.
He felt like the kid in class called upon to answer a question where he didn’t know the solution. “I. . .ugh. . I’m not sure. Fuck, I hope not. Christ, Savannah,” he moaned as he pressed her cold fingers to his mouth.
In his peripheral vision, he noted that the paramedic lifted the blanket over Savannah’s body and fussed around with her clothing underneath. He was afraid of what the woman would find but at the same time relieved that he wasn’t the one to check her over.
“I don’t see any tearing of clothes or forced entry, but we’ll still perform a rape test at the hospital to be safe.”
“Okay,” he whispered, brushing away what he now realized was vomit-coated hair from her face. “How much longer?” he asked, knowing that Preston was leading them back toward the closest major hospital.
“We are about an hour away right now. We’ll do all we can to keep her going until we get there. I’ve given her a dose of activated charcoal to absorb whatever drugs are in her system.”
“She’s not a drug addict,” he told the woman, who shrank at his vitriol.
“I’m sure, sir. But it’s just a precaution. Charcoal helps with all drugs, even those you can get over the counter. Shit,” she cried out as the heart monitor attached to Savannah began to pulse rapidly. Solid lines appeared between random beats upward.
“What’s happening?” he asked as the paramedic pushed his arm away, dislodging their hands in the process.
“Start CPR at 9:47,” the other paramedic called out as Beau cried out internally for Savannah to hold on just a few minutes longer.
A solid beep off in the distance told him that his fight might have ended long before it started.