Buried in Secrets (Carly Moore #4) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,124
it several times on a dummy for my teaching certification. While I didn’t want to potentially hurt Jerry, I knew it was important to be aggressive…even if that meant breaking ribs. Plus, Marco was much stronger than me and had likely already done the worst.
Marco sank to the ground in exhaustion.
“How long, Marco?”
“I don’t know. Twenty minutes? Forty-five? I kept hoping someone would stop, but I didn’t dare stop CPR to go radio for help.”
“Max is doing it now.”
I stopped compressions, made sure Jerry’s head was tilted correctly, then put my mouth on his, pushing air into his lungs.
“Did he have a pulse when you found him?” I asked as I started compressions again.
“He was conscious when I found him. I saw it happen. A black truck forced him off the road, then drove off. I stopped and ran down the hill to see if the passengers were okay. Then I realized it was Jerry.” His voice broke, and he released a sob. “He was so relieved to see me. I should have run to radio for help, but he was scared, and I didn’t want to leave him.”
“You did the right thing,” I said, continuing my compressions and refusing to believe it was too late. “He needed you there with him.”
“He was worried Bart would be upset with him for wrecking his trunk.” His voice broke again. “He said he was grateful to Bart for giving him a second chance and he didn’t want to let him down.” Marco wiped his face with the back of his arm. “I told him it wasn’t his fault. That I’d seen someone force him off the road, and I’d make sure Bart knew it. And if Bart still blamed him, I’d personally kick his ass.” He looked up at me. “He laughed at that.”
“So he was alive when you found him,” I said more to myself than him. “That’s good. He has a chance.” But Jerry was so cold beneath my touch I was struggling to believe it.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Marco said. “He has a deep laceration on his inner right thigh. I used my belt as a tourniquet, but he bled quite a bit before I got it on.” He took a breath and cleared his throat. “He was worried he’d lose the leg if we left it on too long. But I told him he and Hank could start a one-legged man club.” He released a chuckle that turned into a partial sob.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and the sound seemed to invigorate Marco. He got to his feet as I gave Jerry another breath.
“I’ll take over the breathing,” he said. “You do compressions until you get tired, then I’ll take over again.”
I hoped to God an ambulance showed up before I got too tired, but I wasn’t used to an upper-body workout, and I was already sore and fatigued.
Max called out Marco’s name from the top of the hill, and Marco answered. I could see a flashlight beam bouncing around on the hill as he scrambled down to us. “An ambulance and some sheriff’s deputies are on their way.” Then he reached Marco and cursed before he wailed, “Jerry.”
I looked up into Max’s face, not surprised to see his anguish. He’d always had a soft spot for the older man. Max had made sure Jerry had a roof over his head and multiple meals a day for years.
The sirens grew closer.
“What happened?” Max demanded, sounding angry. “How did this happen?” He turned an accusatory glare at me.
“He was run off the road,” Marco said, regaining his composure. “I ran down and found him like this.”
The sirens were directly above us, and Marco turned to his friend.
“I set up a flare so they knew where to find us. No way was I leavin’ Carly down here alone. We thought it was you.”
Marco didn’t respond.
We continued CPR for a couple minutes longer until the EMTs reached us. They took over and told us to go back up the hill to give our statements.
I didn’t want to leave Jerry, but I knew we were in the way. Marco helped me out of the truck, then the three of us climbed back up the hill with the help of a rope the emergency personnel had wound around a tree. It reminded me of when Wyatt’s truck had been run off the road after I’d first come to town, and I’d climbed down to help him.