The Paramedic

By Scott Allan

The story takes place in Hollywood FL. and begins with four friends that have grown up together and are now in their late twentys. Dave Foley has become a homicide detective, Danny has become a Paramedic. Rafe is a drug smuggler that has become a power boat racer, and Wes is a successful developer with ties to the underworld.
Danny seems to lead a straight and simple life, but is brutally murdered by having his throat slashed while at home. The mystery deepens when drugs are found at the crime scene. Foley gets the case and finds himself having to team up with his old friend Wes. The cop wants justice but the drug dealer wants revenge. They find themselves at odds with each other as they work to solve the crime.
What they dont know is that Danny was mixed up with dirty cops who are raiding the homes of drug dealers and ripping them off. The Leader has become paranoid and goes on a rampage killing everyone in the crew beginning with Danny. After killing the girlfriend of one of the crew members, the Leader discovers he enjoys strangling women.
A beautiful reporter from the local news show is following the story and eventually catches the attention of the Leader who becomes infatuated with her. She is also from South FL. and went to high school with Wes. When her life becomes endangered he finds himself still caring about her.
Things become complicated when Rafe is suspected of being involved with the dirty cops and Wes must confront him. The murders escalate ending with a dramatic fight in the Everglades and another one of the friends gets killed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Sep 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426979392

Book preview

Chapter 1

H is day usually started promptly at 6 a.m. Wake up and stretch for a few minutes, make a protein shake and visit the can before he hit the gym. He'd be back home by 10 a.m., ready for whatever the rest of the day brought. There are lots of options when you're thirty years old, semi-retired and living in South Florida. The Atlantic Ocean offered surfing, fishing and scuba diving. There were more than 100 golf courses to hack up and you could always hang out at the beach. His favorite being Garfield Street with the wall, where you could sit all day picking up college girls on vacation looking to party. Occasionally, his day was interrupted by an inconvenient phone call that meant some easy money.

Today, however, started much differently. Instead of enjoying his shake, Danny sat in his bedroom on a hard wooden chair, his hands and feet firmly bound with duct tape. Surrounding him, three mammoth men reeked of sweat and steroids. Two stood behind him. The Leader was in front and was by far the biggest at six feet five inches and 260 pounds of rock hard muscle. Danny's mouth was taped tightly shut, which was making him very nervous. These guys were supposed to be his friends, but your buddies don't gag you and bind you to a chair. He hoped that this was just a misunderstanding, but he saw the look in the Leader's dark, lifeless eyes and knew he was in trouble.

The Leader brushed back his sweaty hair and suddenly pivoted on his left foot, smashing his massive fist into Danny's face, breaking his nose. The chair toppled over and the two burly accomplices hoisted it back to an upright position. Danny's chin rested on his chest as he sat, half unconscious, thick, bloody mucus pouring from his nose. The Leader leaned in close and pushed Danny in the face, causing his head to snap back. He bent over and in a raspy whisper said, I never liked you.

Danny shook his head back and forth, trying to convince the Leader that he was mistaken. But the Leader's eyes turned black, and the man in the chair did something he hadn't done since he was a kid -- he prayed.

The Leader slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a shinny silver object. He turned toward the man in the chair and let his fingers methodically unroll to reveal the tiny blade. Danny was a paramedic, and his eyes grew wide with terror as he recognized the scalpel. He feverishly tried to break the bondage of the tape, but it was of no use.

The Leader enjoyed this. He clutched the surgeon's tool in his hand and gently scraped Danny's face upward to his eyes. Then the Leader applied just a tiny bit of pressure. He was amazed at how easily the scalpel sliced skin. Danny started to cry. His tears mixed with the crimson blood that was flowing down his face.

The Leader, disgusted with the whiner, plunged the metallic knife into his abdomen, twisting it back and forth. He held the dying man close, listening to his breath as it seeped through the tape. Then the Leader looked up at his dark haired accomplice and tossed him the scalpel. With a nod and a wink he said, Finish him.

Patrick caught the blade in his left hand, grabbed Danny around the forehead with his right arm and pulled back. Danny's thick neck was fully exposed, and the executioner dug the razor sharp blade into his flesh and pulled. The scalpel cut quick and deep. Danny kicked and gurgled as blood spurted about the room. The Leader kicked the chair over and laughed at the dying man.

As he lay on the floor, his life oozing onto the brown carpet, Danny knew this was the end. He thought about how upset his mother and sister would be. He thought about his girlfriend and what might have been. His vision blurring from the pooling blood around his face, Danny focused on a bright yellow surfboard that stood in the corner of the room. He thought of all the sunrises he'd seen surfing waves with his two best friends. He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the ocean sitting on his board next to Disco and Wes, laughing as they bobbed like corks in the water. He paddled for a wave and felt a warm sensation as darkness engulfed him.

Chapter 2

D ave Foley sat at his desk trying to decide how to start his day. He'd only been a homicide detective for six months, and already his job was more about staying ahead of the massive paper work than it was about solving crimes. Each morning started with trying to figure out which murder needed to be moved to the cold case file so he could concentrate on the ones with a better chance of being solved. It was absolutely true what the other detectives had told him. "If you don't crack the case in the first 48 hours, you might as well file it away under Forgotten. " Foley thought every victim deserved his best effort for much longer than 48 hours. But sadly, the light brown headed cop soon discovered the reality that there just wasn't enough manpower, willpower or money to bring every scumbag to justice.

Foley was born in Hollywood, Florida, just a stone's throw south of Fort Lauderdale. It was a town where rich old Canadians migrated for the winter. Instead of tall gleaming resorts, Hollywood Beach was a mosaic of mom and pop motels painted Flamingo Pink and Bahamian Yellow. Some were borderline seedy, but most were cozy and charming. The one unique thing that Hollywood Beach had was a boardwalk, and Foley had grown up prowling it with his friends, looking for girls and fights. He'd never lived anywhere else and had no desire to. Foley loved the ocean. He had a fishing boat that he kept in the water behind a friend's house. He still surfed and scuba dived, although not as often as he wanted. He had longtime buddies he could trust and he even married his high school sweetheart. Now he was a cop in his hometown, and every homicide Foley investigated hit him in a personal way. He hated the fact that the murders he couldn't close were being put on the backburner, especially when some of the victims' names were vaguely familiar.

As Foley sat at his desk pondering the day, a detective by the name of Joseph Gelosi strolled in. Joe was a New York transplant just like the majority of South Florida's population. He was 45 years old and about 20 pounds past his prime. He'd become a New York City Cop right after high school and had put in his 20 years with NYPD. He thought he was retiring to sunny Hollywood but quickly discovered that he bored easily and needed to work. Since being a cop was the only thing he knew how to do, he went to work for the Hollywood Police Department as a detective. He loved to gamble and he always had a good story to tell about his exploits as a seducer of young women.

When Foley came on board, Gelosi discovered that Foley had a boat, so he decided to take the newbie under his wing. It was a convenient arrangement; Foley got to tap into Joe's vast wealth of knowledge and the New Yorker got to fish for free.

Foley's radio crackled to life with a report of a possible homicide at the Landmark Townhouse complex. He knew the place well because some friends of his lived there. He nervously responded to dispatch, and asked for the exact address. His heart became heavy as he listened to the numbers, and a tear came to his eyes as he heard the last name. Foley ran his fingers through his thick hair and muttered, Please God, not Danny.

Joe looked at his partner and noticed he was upset. Somebody you know?

Foley gave a slight nod yes and slammed his fist against the metal desk, denting it.

Chapter 3

T he surf was 4 to 5 foot and glassy. The sun was shining and most of the girls on the beach were topless. Wes took off on a cresting barrel of white water and tucked into a swirling green room. He stood in there for what seemed like an eternity and then blasted out of the tube and got ready to cut back into the wave. He faintly heard some music, or was it the sound of the telephone. He fell off his board and when he broke through the water's surface he still heard ringing.

He kicked off the sheets and reached for the phone on the night stand. Still not sure if the wave or the ring was real, he fumbled for the receiver and knocked it off the table. At first he was pissed because somebody just woke him up from a great dream, but then he remembered that only a few select people had this number. It was probably his mother reminding him about coming over for dinner.

Tentatively, he answered. Hello?

He heard Richard on the other end say, Hey boss, is that you?

Who else would it be? Wes replied angrily.

Richard hesitated. Sorry boss, but I got some bad news that you need to hear.

Well, spit it out.

Richard was silent for a moment, and then in a low voice said, Danny is dead.

At first it didn't register, so Wes asked Richard to repeat himself. Danny's dead.

How? Wes was now fully awake.

I'm not sure boss, but he's definitely dead.

Alright, alright. Thanks. I gotta go. Call me if you find out anything. Wes hung up the phone, not quite believing what he heard. Damn, anybody but Danny. He pulled on his shorts and walked over to the glass sliding doors that looked over his back yard.

The back yard was five acres of ranch land in a rural part of Broward County known as Sunshine Ranches. The Ranches, as it was called, was an enclave of expensive homes on a minimum of three acres, 25 miles west of the beach. The people that lived there liked their privacy and their horses. Wes could care less about horses, but he liked the solitude. His compound resembled more of a tropical oasis than a ranch. He surrounded his property with a multitude of different palm trees and other tropical fauna. He wanted his place to remind him of Hawaii. A 10-foot high brick and wrought iron wall stretched across the front his property. It looked elegant but was mostly about security.

Two German Shepherds patrolled the compound day and night. It was more protection than a normal person needed, but his neighbors were used to the eccentric lifestyles of the people who lived in the neighborhood. They just assumed that he was a kid with wealthy parents that liked to have some space. That was about as far from the truth as it could be. Wes's mom and dad were middle class and had contributed very little to his lavish lifestyle. Since he was a teen, he'd always earned his own money. Looking out on his back patio with the pool and waterfall, he thought about those early days when he first met his paramedic friend.

Chapter 4

I t was 4 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and Wes couldn't sleep. The cute little blonde he'd met at a party earlier in the evening said she'd be there at 4:30. He was 15 years old and in desperate need of a lift up coast. Lisa was 16 and had a car and a driver's license. She thought he was cute and said she was going to Sebastian Inlet in the morning and he could come along. It was too good to be true, because the surf was pumping and he hadn't found a ride yet. All of his buddies had either already left or didn't have room in their cars, so Wes was frantically searching for transportation. He was about to give up when he met Lisa and struck up a conversation. She told him she was a photographer and was heading up to Sebastian to take some pictures.

Sure enough, at exactly 4:30, Wes heard a horn honk twice outside. He grabbed his surfboard and trotted out the front door. He couldn't believe what he saw. He could make out the silhouette of not one, but two long haired beauties sitting in the car. Too sweet, was all he could think as he ran up to the door and pulled it opened. The interior light went on, and Wes just stood there in bewilderment at what he saw. Lisa was behind the steering wheel, but her girlfriend was a fucking guy friend. The kid had long, straggly brown hair and was sitting in the front seat. He said, Hey bro, my name's Danny. Hop in; the back seat is all yours. Wes didn't hesitate, because he didn't have another option. It turned out that the stranger had some good weed and was cool. He and Danny ended up surfing together, and by the end of the day Wes had totally forgotten about Lisa. He had a new friend that surfed. Better yet, Danny had a car.

The two went to different high schools, but they would get together most weekends and either go surfing or hang out at Hollywood Beach. It didn't matter what high school you went to, Garfield Street Wall was the place to be if you wanted to hook up with the opposite sex. It was also the pipeline for information on all the happening parties and for finding out who had the best dope.

Wes eventually met Danny's other good friend Dave who, for whatever reason, was called Disco. The surf in South Florida was erratic at best, so in order to get good waves they usually had to drive up the Florida coast to Palm Beach or further north to Sebastian Inlet. Up coast meant surfing some beaches that could be very territorial. The three boys were all excellent surfers, but sometimes they would run into a pack of locals that didn't want to share their precious waves. Wes and Danny really didn't like to fight, but Disco had a temper and on more than one occasion, things got physical. He would start the brawls, but usually, Wes would clean up Dave's mess.

Wes had a brother Alex, who was four years older the he was. Alex taught him how to surf, but he was also a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and had taught Wes how to fight. When he graduated high school, Alex went into the Navy and became a SEAL. When he came home on leave, he taught his little brother what he'd learned in training. Like how to hold your breath under water for three minutes and how to apply submission holds to disarm an enemy. Wes didn't like to fight, but he was more than capable of defending himself if cornered.

Chapter 5

T he two detectives pulled up to the townhouse in their official Crown Victoria. Foley hesitated because he wasn't sure if he was ready for what waited inside -- the murder scene of his close friend Danny. Gelosi reached over and patted his partner's shoulder. You ok to do this?

Foley looked somberly at him. I don't really know.

They ducked under the crime scene tape and made their way inside Danny's home. Gelosi flashed his badge to the two rookies guarding the entrance and asked, Who else is here?

A couple other detectives dressed way nicer than you two, answered the short one.

Hey you're a funny guy, I'll tell your sister you said hello when I'm banging her tonight. Gelosi said as he walked past them.

Foley made his way into the house that he'd visited many times before. Danny pretty much kept to himself and he never had more than a couple of friends over at a time. He'd never had a party that Foley could remember, and he never had anybody over for dinner. Danny used to be a tall skinny guy, but he discovered bodybuilding while becoming a paramedic. His 6-foot 2-inch frame quickly filled out. Foley only saw him every few months, and every time he saw him he was astounded at how much bigger he was. He weighed 225 pounds but was as hard as granite, and Foley suspected steroids. Danny had called Foley just a couple of weeks ago and said that he just bought a new long board and did Foley want to go surfing. Foley said he was too busy at the time. Now he wished like hell that he had accepted his dead friend's invitation.

There was a lot of commotion in and about the townhouse with uniform cops, CSI, and a couple of guys that surprised Foley; two detectives from the narcotics division. As he made his way inside the townhouse, he understood. Entering the foyer, there was a closet on his immediate left. The door was ajar and revealed an open floor safe. Inside the safe was what looked like a kilo of cocaine that had been busted open and left behind. That sure as hell doesn't make any sense, Foley thought as he stared in disbelief at the bottom of the safe. Danny didn't deal drugs as far as he knew, and no robber in their right mind would leave behind $30,000 worth of blow. Gelosi was following his partner and had also seen the drugs in the safe. This is either a case of some fucking stupid home invaders, or your friend was involved with some heavy people.

The two detectives from the narcotics squad were Davis and Stern. They both looked serious as they approached Foley.

Davis said We got one dead drug dealer that hooked up with some brutal psychopaths. They slit his throat ear to ear and almost decapitated the piece of shit.

Foley lunged at Davis, but Gelosi blocked his way and said, Hey Davis, the guy in there was Dave's good friend, so shut the fuck up.

Davis glared at Gelosi. Alright, alright, I didn't know. Now get out of my face.

Gelosi backed off and said, Tell us what you got so far.

Davis pulled out his notebook and read what he had. White male, named Daniel Grossman, apparent victim of a home invasion robbery that ended up with the victim being murdered. Victim was duct taped to a chair and was tortured before he was killed. Body was discovered by his neighbor at approximately 10:53 a.m.

Stern stepped in and told Foley, She was so shook up that she had to be taken to the hospital. Man, it's bad in there. He pointed at the bedroom.

Foley was sweating now. He looked at Stern and said, Is there anybody there with her?

Stern replied, I was just getting ready to go and get her statement.

Ok good. Go now and don't let her talk to anybody, Foley said as he began to take control of the crime scène.

Stern left and Foley turned to Davis and asked, Was Danny on your radar as being a dealer?

Davis replied, No, but that doesn't mean much. I can tell you one thing though. This was payback for something he did. That's an expensive message to leave behind. He pointed at the safe and said, What do you know, Foley?

I literally don't have a clue, but I guarantee you I'm going to nail whoever did this, He replied as he made his way toward the bedroom.

Foley slowly stepped inside the room, careful not to touch anything. He let out a deep sigh as he saw Danny lying on the carpet in a pool of blood, still attached to the wooden chair. His face was a battered mess and there were multiple stabs wounds covering his body. Davis was right, he was definitely tortured. It was painfully obvious what the cause of death was though. His throat had been slashed with such force that he was nearly decapitated. The only thing holding his head on was his spinal cord, which you could clearly see through the neatly sliced skin and muscle. The smell of bleach permeated the entire room where the killers had splashed the chemical to destroy any trace evidence.

The CSI crew was taking pictures, collecting evidence and examining blood splatter. Katherine Segal was the lead tech on the crime scene team. She was focused on some evidence left in the bathroom. She was older than Foley, but not by much. She had her dark hair pulled back in a pony tail and was concentrating hard as she examined the mirror. She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't even notice when Foley entered the room.

Hey Kat! Foley said in a loud voice so she would hear him. You see something?

Oh, Dave. It's you. Come over here and take a look at this.

Foley walked over to Kat. She pointed to the blood on the bathroom mirror and said, This blood on the glass came from the victim when his throat was slit. It spurted all the way from where the body is laying in the bedroom. This could be a record.

Foley started to get angry but calmed himself down before he told her that the victim was a friend. He usually appreciated a good morbid joke, and Kat's were always welcome, but not today.

She gasped and said, My God! I'm so sorry, Dave. I didn't know.

Foley just looked down at the floor. No problem, Kat. Is there anything you can tell me?

Well, she said. The perpetrators used something very sharp to slit his throat, like a razor or maybe a scalpel.

Foley thought about this for a moment. It had to be more than one person, and they'd have to be some big, strong guys to subdue him.

For sure on that, Kat said. The victim has a big thick neck. It would have taken somebody as big and as strong as he was to do this kind of damage.

She looked at Foley and softly said, I'm really sorry Dave.

That's ok, Kat Foley replied. Could you please get a preliminary report to me as soon as possible? I have a couple of urgent things I need to do.

Gelosi poked his head in the door, looked at his partner and said, You got a game plan?

Foley brushed back his wavy brown hair and said, Yeah. First I gotta deliver some bad news to Danny's family, and you have to go and question the neighbor at the hospital. Then we meet back at the station to go over the CSI report.

Gelosi stepped into the bedroom and slowly scanned the crime scene, taking in every little detail. He'd seen a lot of nasty things in his 20 years as a cop, and this was as bad as it got. He turned and looked at his partner and said If this was New York, I'd say it was the Mafia's way of doing business.

Foley shook his head. In Miami, this is the type of message the Colombians send. He took one last look at his dead friend, and then something caught his eye. In the corner of the bedroom was a brand new surfboard that Danny would never ride.

Chapter 6

T he Leader was back at home. He'd taken a shower to wash off the blood and he placed his soiled clothes in a plastic bag. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline rush he always got from doing home invasions. This was a whole new high though. He had shot people before, but this throat slitting thing was crazy cool. When you shoot a person in the head, they just kind of drop to the floor like somebody sawed off their legs. The cocksucker whose throat they slit this morning tried like hell to fight off death, and the gurgling noise he made as he bled out was intoxicating.

He couldn't describe the power he felt as he pushed the blade into Danny's stomach and watched the life draining from his eyes. He started to get an erection as he thought about it in the shower. How he wished he'd had the cojones to slice up his step father when he was a kid growing up in the part of Miami known as Little Havana. It was a section of the city that the Cuban refugees staked their claim to when Castro took over the mother land. Forced to flee, they came here and established a new Cuba. Hand rolled cigars, strong coffee and dominos could be found on every corner.

The Leader didn't give two shits about the mother land. He was born in the USA and always felt like an American. His mother was Cuban, and he was told that his father was white. Dear old dad took off before he was born. He probably didn't know he'd left his girlfriend pregnant. That's because his mother was a whore just like all women. The Leader couldn't remember how many uncles his mother had brought home for the night. Then she married his stepfather. He was Miami cop, and every time he looked at his stepson he was reminded of what a slut his wife was. The beatings weren't the worst of it, though. When Pop came home drunk, which was often, his favorite game was to smack Mom around while Junior watched. The few times he tried to stop her from being beaten, Dad pulled his gun out and threatened to shoot them both dead.

When the Leader turned 17, he bashed his stepdad's kneecaps with a baseball bat while he was asleep, walked out the door and never looked back. He should have slit that fucker's neck back then when he had the chance.

But there was no time to dwell on the past. The Leader blinked his eyes and focused on what still needed to be done. He flipped open his cell and called his partner. Patrick answered on the first ring. Hey boss.

I have a job for tonight.

Just tell me where and when, Patrick replied enthusiastically.

Meet me at Tugboat's for lunch and we can go over the details.

Sounds good. Patrick hung up the phone. He really didn't have an appetite after this morning, but you didn't say no to the Leader.

Chapter 7

F oley knocked softly on the door and waited for Danny's mother to answer. The door slowly opened, the chain still attached, as she suspiciously peered through the slight gap. Who is it? she said in a frail voice.

It's me, Dave.

Oh Davey, I didn't recognize you; it's been so long since you've been over. Are you here to see Jordan, because I think she's in the shower?

Jordan was Danny's little sister. She was two years younger than her brother. She was a tomboy as a kid but had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Foley looked at the old woman and said, "Well, Mrs. G, I'm really here to see you and Jordan."

In that case come on in and sit down. I'll get you a cup of coffee.

That would be nice, Foley said as he looked around at the inside of the house that had been like a second home when he was growing up. He picked up an old photo from the small table in the living room. If was of Danny, Jordan and himself as kids at the beach. Foley could remember the day it was taken. It was an end of the summer party on Labor Day weekend. The three of them had built a sand castle and were proudly displaying it for the camera. They were covered in sand and looked as if they'd been breaded like