Emergency Care

By Linda Owen

In the midst of a hurricane, bank robbers invade the South Texas hospital where Sidney Shelton works. Both staff and patients are terrorized for hours. It is a toss up if Sidney is more afraid of the thugs or the hurricane. When their captors leave in the morning, will the hostages be dead or alive? What can Sidney do to protect her six-year-old son and friends from harm? God sends her unexpected help from a Mexican cop and a soldier with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

* This Christian thriller is recommended for book clubs that enjoy a good suspense and individuals who seek theological reflection. Discussion questions are at the end of the novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483504247

Book preview

:NIV).

PROLOGUE

Juan Vega steadied the steering wheel as the van sped through rain-filled potholes on the south side of San Antonio. Just another job. That’s what he kept telling himself as Jake Larson spouted his rules to the two new guys in the backseat.

Follow my lead. Watch the time. We need to be out of the bank in four minutes. And don’t shoot anybody.

Chucky Rhodes checked his magazine. I’ve got ten rounds here.

Great. A hot head. Why couldn’t Jake put together a decent crew?

Are you listening to me? Jake snapped at Chucky. Keep it clean.

Juan caught Chucky’s smirk in the rearview mirror. Yep. A hot head. If so much time hadn’t gone into planning this job—and if Jake hadn’t made up his mind to do it today—Juan might suggest they call it off. But they were here now.

Juan parked the van outside the Southwest Bank and killed the engine. He left the windshield wipers going so they could see the armored car delivery.

They’re already here. Jake leaned forward, straining to watch the guards returning to the truck. Good. They’ve delivered the dough. Let’s wait.

Lightening slashed the sky as the armored car pulled away from the bank.

The gang masked their faces. Jake reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a ski mask. In the backseat the two brothers donned Halloween masks. Mick, who wore a collection of gold chains around his neck and a blue tank top, exposing hard muscles, had chosen the mask of a toothless baby. Chucky, six feet tall and built like a refrigerator, wore a mask of Tweety Bird.

They looked so ridiculous Juan laughed.

What’s your problem? Chucky asked.

Juan felt around in his backpack—then he remembered. I forgot. He stared at Jake. He felt his cheeks grow hot. I left my ski mask on my bed.

"Is this your first job?" Mick snorted a laugh.

Juan griped the steering wheel in anger.

Jake ignored the jab. He tossed his ski mask into Juan’s lap. Take this. I’ll wear my bandanna.

It was not unusual for Jake to wear western attire, but today his cowboy hat, boots and neckerchief caught Juan’s imagination. He’d look like a bank robber from the Old West.

Jake pointed to Juan’s arms. Better hide those tattoos. The cops might identify you.

The brothers jeered.

Gritting his teeth, Juan struggled into a windbreaker. He pulled on the ski mask and seized his sawed-off shotgun. He faced Jake, awaiting his orders.

Jake anchored his arms through the straps of a second backpack. He pulled his Stetson low over his face, tied the bandanna across his nose, and stepped into the rain. Come on, guys. Let’s do it.

They scrambled out of the van and stormed the bank.

Jake entered first and herded the four customers into the center of the lobby. Chucky took several steps inside, and then lingered near the stool where the guard was supposed to be.

Juan rushed the two tellers. A blonde at one window fumbled under the counter, but she wasn’t quick enough. She froze as he stuck the barrel of his shotgun into her face. Don’t push the silent alarm, he said, biting off his words. She nodded, her dark eyes wide in her pale face. Peeling off his backpack, he slid it across the counter. His gaze shifted to the other teller. Fill it up. Both of you.

Where’s the guard? Chucky bellowed from across the room.

Juan turned in time to see the security guard burst in from a blind corner, waving his pistol in all directions, his eyes finally falling on Chucky. Before he could fire, Chucky shot him in the stomach.

The guard fell to his knees, blinding pain on his face. His gun, still raised, returned fire, hitting his rival in the chest.

Staggering, Chucky clutched the wound with his free hand. He cursed long and loud as blood streamed between his fingers. Stupid! This didn’t have to happen. It’s your own fault. He raised his gun again.

Juan shrieked. What are you doing? Boss said not to hurt nobody!

Ignoring the warning, Chucky put another bullet in the guard.

Jake whirled, his gun pointed at Chucky. Stop it. Stop shooting!

Chucky kicked the security guard’s gun away. The man stared up at his killer with mouth agape, then groaned and fell face down on the floor.

Mick moved toward his wounded brother, but Jake pulled him back. Watch the time. Do your job.

But he might die. Juan heard the words choke in Mick’s throat.

Jake ignored him and fired a shot into the air. Everyone get on the floor!

The bank patrons dropped to the tiles like dominos. Only an old lady by the front windows continued to stand, clutching a plastic Wal-Mart bag to her chest.

Mick pointed his revolver at her. Get down. What’re you, deaf?

I can’t. My knees— Her lips quivered. May I sit in a chair instead?

Mick hesitated and then turned for confirmation from Jake, who nodded with a grunt.

The pause was brief. Pulling a set of dishtowels from her bag, the gray-haired woman said to Mick, Your friend is bleeding a lot. You need to put pressure on the wound.

Mick snatched the towels from her outstretched hand and tossed one to Chucky.

Slowly the elderly woman lowered herself into a chair. Chucky sank onto a nearby sofa, groaning, clutching the bloody towel against his chest. With his free hand he limply covered the people on the floor by balancing his gun on his leg.

Who’s the manager? Jake yelled.

A dark-skinned man approached him with hands raised. I am. I need to check on my friend. Please. He took a step toward the guard.

No. He’s dead. Jake pointed his pistol in the man’s face. Take me to the vault.

They walked past Juan and the two teller windows, through the gate, and disappeared around a corner.

Juan shifted his focus back to the tellers. They had flattened themselves to the floor behind the counter, which irritated him. No, stupid! Stand up and fill these bags like I told you. Seizing the backpack again, he pulled out a large black garbage bag and forced it on the blonde. He tossed the backpack to the young man at the next window. Fill’em. You got three minutes. Make it fast.

As the teller hit the release on his drawer, Juan stepped in front of his counter to watch closely. "No dye pack, you hear me?

If I have paint explode in my face, I’m going to come back here and blow your head off. Got that?"

Yes, sir. He stuffed a pile of fifties into the backpack and then a wad of hundreds.

By the time the female emptied her drawer, Jake returned with the manager, who lugged a plump backpack through the gate. Mick, who had captured the cashier from the drivethrough, joined them with a drawer of money, which he quickly dumped into the larger plastic bag.

Checking his watch, Jake seized his knapsack from the manager. Come on, guys. It’s been over three minutes. Move it!

The teller still stuffed money into Juan’s fabric bag. Hurry up! Juan slapped the back of his head to speed him up.

Thirty seconds left! Mick shouted.

As Juan ran ahead to start the van, Mick and Jake herded the prisoners into the vault. Juan stared at the moving windshield wipers. He’d never been part of a bungled robbery—and he didn’t like it.

As the others piled inside, dragging a heavy Chucky into the backseat, Juan reflected on what had happened. Everything had been planned carefully. They had waited for weeks for a holiday weekend, because they knew there would be a skeleton staff.

Everything went as Jake planned—except someone died.

Texas has the death penalty, Juan grumbled. He pulled the van onto the soggy street, going too fast in the steady rain.

Jake chewed his lip. How long will it take to get to Mexico?

CHAPTER 1

Sidney Shelton strolled around the empty emergency room at Palermo Regional Hospital, gathering up the discarded magazines and replacing them neatly in the racks. It was quiet. The halls were empty and only a few of the medical staff were on duty. Staring out the glass windows at the dark sky and heavy rain, she anticipated a slow day.

Are you the head nurse? chirped a little voice behind her.

She turned to find a freckle-faced woman in blue scrubs. Hello. I’m Sidney. You must be Bella Weiner. She waited for Bella to give a polite nod. There are five of us today. One doctor and three nurses. We also have an aide joining us later. With only three patients, I doubt we’ll have much to do on a Fourth of July weekend, but it’s good to have your help. Sidney smiled. The new kid on the block always gets the holiday shift.

I don’t mind. I’m happy to have a job after being unemployed for six months.

Sidney tilted her head. We’ve needed another nurse for a long time.

I only applied after my mother died two weeks ago. I’d pretty much done my grieving the last six months—she had Alzheimer’s. I left my job and everything else to come care for her, so when I inherited the house, I decided to stay in town.

Sidney peered again through the glass doors streaked with rain. Working today meant time-and-a-half wages. Sure, most nurses would have hated being chained to bedpans and fussy patients instead of enjoying picnics and fireworks, but now it was raining and the outdoor activities had been canceled.

Bella remained static, watching her. I heard you went to medical school. You still want to be a doctor?

Things change. I dropped out. Sidney turned away, hiding her misty eyes. I prefer to work in the ER, but I’m going to float today. You’ll man the ER desk.

Their conversation ended as the glass doors swished open. A Hispanic couple came in, walking slowly, the young woman clinging to her older escort. Her belly looked as big as a watermelon, so it was no mystery why she was here.

Don’t tell me—let me guess. You’re in labor, Bella giggled. Sidney grabbed a clipboard and asked for insurance information. While the man leaned on the countertop, scribbling answers on the sheet, she asked the patient, Did your water break?

No. The young woman groaned and sat in a waiting room chair.

She looks worried. Sidney took a closer look. Her long brown hair was wringing wet, with two strands pasted against her cheek. She couldn’t be much more than a teenager. Sidney wanted to wrap her arms around the girl and tell her not to be afraid. That childbirth was the most natural thing in the world.

Sidney turned her attention to the man at the counter. He was muscular and dark-headed, a handsome man with fine laugh lines fanning out from his eyes. She guessed he was close to fifty. Was he the pregnant woman’s father or the father of the baby?

He returned the completed forms.

Sidney stared at the hand printed words. Isn’t this insurance only good in Mexico?

He gave her a puzzled look. I live in Mexico.

Wait. I’m not on his policy. The girl thrust a card into Sidney’s hand. Use mine. It’s Humana. I’m from San Antonio.

Sidney made a Xerox copy and returned the card to her. Is this your first baby? Bella asked.

Yes.

Now, don’t you worry— Sidney glanced at the registration form. Although the woman’s cedar skin hinted she was most likely Mexican, her name was Anglo. Ms. Carson. You’re going to come through this just fine. We know what we’re doing here. Her eyes fell to the next line on the paper. I see that David Davila is next of kin. Is that you, sir?

His head bobbed. I’m her uncle.

Bella rolled a wheelchair from behind the desk.

Hop in, Sidney said. She retreated behind the desk to transfer data from the form to the computer. Bella will take you to your room.

The teenager lowered herself slowly. Call me Markie.

Bella gave Sidney a curious look. We don’t put the information directly into the computer here?

This is a small town. We have old software. I’ll show you where we keep the forms when you get back.

Markie gripped the arms of the chair as Bella whisked her down the long corridor. David strolled several paces behind. For a moment Sidney observed the new nurse at work; then she began punching the keyboard again.

On the way to the maternity wing, Bella pushed Markie past the empty hub with counters and computers in the center. Single rooms lined the walls. At the end of the ER hallway, three separate wings intersected at a nurses’ station.

Bella stopped to regurgitate the facts she had learned during her orientation tour. The architect who designed this building had quite an imagination. I think he was a Christian. Notice the corridors are in the shape of a cross. She pointed her thumbs west and east. Patient rooms are there. Then she indicated the north wing. The staff offices are down there. That’s the head of the cross. Then she aimed a finger at the main entrance. That long hall is the foot of the cross. Can you envision it?

Markie’s eyes brightened. I’m going to be giving birth under the outstretched arms of Jesus? That’s great. I’m glad we stopped here.

They curved around the huge, protruding desk and headed east. The white walls changed to a colorful mural of mothers with their babies. Bella loved the décor in this wing. It made her smile the first time she saw it, and she felt her lips stretch into a grin now. This is the maternity wing, she said. It’s cheery, don’t you think? She didn’t wait for a reply. Some of the art students from the high school painted it.

They entered the first door on the left, into a room with high ceilings and grayish walls.

The kids should decorate these walls too, David said dryly.

Be sure to put that on the comment card. Bella turned back the bed. I think that’s a great idea.

David stepped out of the room and hovered in the doorway, looking up and down the hall. It’s quiet—almost too quiet.

Bella fluffed up Markie’s pillow. You’re the only patient expecting a baby. Right now you’ve got this wing to yourself. She paused and contemplated what to tell them next. It’s a holiday weekend and we have only one doctor on duty and a skeleton staff. I need to get back to the ER.

Oops. The pair looked even more worried now.

No OB? Markie asked.

We have a very good doctor. Bella had no idea what physician was on duty. She smiled sweetly. When I worked at a hospital in San Francisco, I helped to deliver hundreds of babies. That was the truth. Bella believed Markie sensed her confidence, because the girl’s shoulders relaxed. I’ll be back to prep you in a few minutes. I promise. We’ll take good care of you.

She handed Markie a hospital gown. You change. I’ll tell the doctor you’re here. Her gaze focused on David. Do you plan to be present during delivery?

He nodded. We’ve been taking Lamaze classes.

Bella placed scrubs and a mask for David on the tabletop, then excused herself and dashed into the brightly lit hallway. She wanted to be part of the delivery—but first she had to find someone to work with Sidney in the ER.

CHAPTER 2

After Bella disappeared with Markie and David, a tall stranger in blue jeans and muddy boots tromped into the ER. He had a towel wrapped securely to his arm with duct tape. I’m cut pretty bad, he told Sidney as she rushed towards him.

Come with me. She guided him to a cubicle and removed the blood-soaked covering. With a fresh towel, she pressed down on the six-inch gash in the flesh of his right forearm. It looked clean but deep, so she evaluated if she could close the wound with adhesive glue or sutures. A couple of noncommittal murmurs left her mouth when she saw the depth of the puncture. This needs stitches.

He said nothing. Curious, she took a closer look at him as she cleaned the abrasion. He had a magnetic smile. She was taller than most men and this guy towered over her. He had to be well over six feet. He was ruggedly handsome, with thick auburn hair and light brown eyes.

I know you from somewhere, she said.

He nodded. From church.

Oh, that’s right. You’re the man who bought the Martinez farm. You always sit by yourself in the back pew.

He laughed. Is there something wrong with that?

She returned his smile. Oh, no. I’ve wanted to invite you to the Bible study on Wednesday night, but you always leave during the last hymn.

I’m not much for socializing. For a big man, he had a quiet voice. But thanks for asking, Sidney.

She felt surprised he knew her name, until she remembered her nametag. I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name.

Perry Granger.

Their conversation ended when Dr. Ron Tanner scurried into the room. What’ve we got here? He dabbed the blood around the wound again. This is quite a gash. How’d it happen?

I stumbled on the rug and fell into a windowpane.

Cute but clumsy, Sidney thought.

He cringed as the doctor plunged a needle into his arm without warning.

That will deaden it while I stitch it up, Dr. Tanner said, threading a large, curved needle with a strand of catgut. He inserted the thread about an inch from the deep fascia of the wound, continuing it through to the other side. This will probably leave a scar.

I don’t care, Perry replied. I got plenty of scars in the war. With his free hand he lifted his T-shirt to reveal a long L-shaped scar that ran above and below the navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Sidney tried to look at the red scar and not be too impressed by his trim, muscular torso. Is that a battle wound?

He nodded. I lost my spleen.

Where’d you fight? the doctor asked, not looking up as he passed the needle back through the skin again.

Iraq. Two tours.

Army?

He nodded. Special Forces.

Bella appeared in the doorway. We’ve got a woman in labor, Doctor. I put her in 103.

I’ll be right there. He stood. Sidney, you bandage this. Page me if another emergency comes in. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he and Bella were gone.

Sidney taped gauze to Perry’s arm. Finished, she lifted her head and found their faces only inches apart. She felt red burning her cheeks. Awkwardly she glanced out the window and hoped he didn’t feel her tension. It’s getting worse out there. Try not to get this wet.

I’ve got to get to my truck.

She remembered the plastic trash bags in a cabinet. You came in taped up and I’m sending you home the same way. She smiled, wrapping the plastic around his arm and securing it with surgical tape.

He grinned back.

The rain was pounding harder on the windowpane behind him. The weather’s really bad, Perry. You can stay down the hall, in one of the empty rooms until the storm is over.

What am I doing? She bit her lip. That’s against hospital policy. For some reason she wanted him to stay.

Thanks. But I’ve got to get home and board up the broken window before my front room is full of water.

She wondered why she was so disappointed. Smiling cordially, she accompanied him into the hall. I should have asked for your insurance information, but you were bleeding a lot. We need to do that before you go.

She handed him the usual form. It was nice meeting you, Perry.

My pleasure. He stuck out his hand and awkwardly took hers. I’ll see you in church.

Sidney watched him for a moment as he scribbled on the card; then she turned away to straighten up the cubicle. As she put away the tape, gauze and needles, she wondered why Bella hadn’t returned. She left the room and peered down the corridor.

Almost immediately, she spotted the nurse coming out of one of the patient’s rooms. Their eyes locked as Sidney ambled down the long hallway. I’ve been looking for someone to cover for me in the ER, Bella said. There just aren’t enough nurses working today.

Sidney stared at her, puzzled.

Nicole just told me to bathe the patient in room 111 and change his sheets, Bella said, but I need to get back to Markie.

Sidney frowned. This wasn’t the best way for Bella to begin her first day. I make those decisions, Bella.

She swallowed, her eyes sheepish. I meant to ask if I could be part of the delivery. I assisted in the births at my last job. I enjoy it.

Sidney popped a breath mint in her mouth. Nicole has no business telling you what to do. I had already assigned you to work in the ER. I’ll talk with her. She drilled the new nurse with an intense stare. You do remember what I asked you to do?

The last thing you asked me to do was take Markie to her room, she answered in a quiet voice.

Sidney couldn’t argue with that.

Bella

Reviews for Emergency Care

[vintagebeckie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

If you like your suspense fast-paced with non-stop action and surprise twists, then check out Emergency Care, the debut novel by Linda Owen. With a definite edgy tone, this novel is a quick read that packs a clear spiritual message.Four dangerous men make their way to a small Texas town near the Mexican border trying to elude the police after a murder and bank robbery. An accident puts them in the ER of the local hospital along with a small holiday staff and a hurricane bearing down on them. They take the patients and staff hostage and try to ride out the storm, but events are soon out of their control.There are a number of surprises in store for the reader of Emergency Care. Just when you think you know what is going to happen next, Owen throws a curve ball to ramp up the adrenaline. The medical setting, the hurricane and the desperate men all combine to provide heart-thumping drama. This is a plot driven novel, but the reader cannot help becoming invested in some of the characters’ lives. Fortunately, Owen does a good job of wrapping up the story after the storm has passed. There is also a strong spiritual thread featuring forgiveness and healing. Only one scene seems out of place, but overall, I think the author did a good job of portraying the truth of God’s love and care for people. As I said, this is an edgy novel. Never graphic, it does contain some violence and adult situations, but no profanity. A good choice for fans of Brandilyn Collins or Steven James. The writer also includes discussion questions for book clubs and theological questions for personal reflection or group discussion.Recommended.(Thanks to Linda Owen for a review copy. The opinions expressed are mine alone.)