Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,62
herself close to one white guy who seemed to want to cause a problem. She engaged him in conversation and helped ease down the guy’s fight message.
On the next walk, he tried to do the same. Talk to people, help give a positive voice. Deescalate if things became too confrontational. Protect the more vulnerable in the crowd where he could, but still show his solidarity for change. All along the march he heard his Nana.
Never give them a reason to be right.
With Nana’s words echoing in his brain today, he calmly counted to ten, slid the business card Jeffers had given him across the counter for the woman to read.
“Police detective Aaron Jeffers, ma’am.” He threw that last bit in to stroke her ego.
You can always catch more flies with sugar than vinegar.
Apparently, Nana was going to walk with him on this mission.
“And this Detective Jeffers,” she said after looking at the card a second time. “He wants to know about our blood collection machines?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out the note pad in his back pocket, flipped it open and read. “He’d like to know where you purchase them from, what kind you use here, and is there any place to buy used ones.”
The woman’s head tilted to one side. “And this is for a crime investigation?”
Time for some charm.
He smiled, just enough to show the one dimple Nana said was God touching his cheek. “I really don’t know, ma’am. I’m just a gopher for the detective. He asks me to find out information. Sometimes I can do it on the internet, sometimes I just have to come talk to people. He never tells me what it’s for.”
Something in what he said must’ve struck a chord with the older woman—a fellow cog in the system just doing her job—because her face softened, and she handed him back his card. “We use gravity flow blood collection for whole blood and have a special machine that weights and seals the blood bags automatically. Then there’s the apheresis machines for plasma and platelet donations.”
Same as the other three places.
“And where do you purchase those from?” he asked, pulling out his pencil from his pocket and jotting down what she said.
“Corporate orders all out supplies—machines, bags, tubing—and I believe they use the Allied Corporeal Medical Experts.” She got a gleam in her eye and sort of smirked.
Kirk paused the pencil on the pad. “What’s so funny about that?”
“The acronym always makes me laugh. A-C-M-E. ACME.” She paused and shook her head when he didn’t react. “Like in the old coyote cartoons?”
This time Kirk got it and chuckled appropriately. “Good one. I liked those cartoons. Watched them on reruns.”
Her brows lifted, but her smile didn’t fade. “Now you’re just making me feel old.”
“Not at all, ma’am. I’m sure you only watched them on reruns, too.”
She chuckled. “Any other information you need?”
“Do you ever get used machines?”
“There’s a local company that supplies all kinds of machines and equipment we use in an emergency.” She clicked on her computer keyboard, then played with the mouse. “McKinley Medical Surplus. It’s on Prospect.”
The printer behind her began whirring then spit out one sheet of paper. She shifted her chair, snatched up the page and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he said, glancing at the printed address. He folded it and pocketed it. “I appreciate the help.”
With his back straight and his head held high he left, giving a brief nod to the security guard at the door. The man gave him a nod back and then a little lift to the corner of his mouth.
Five complete bags. A very good harvest.
Settling the sealed, chilled and labeled bags into his cooler, he placed the false bottom over them then set his lunch on the top. Not that anyone ever looked inside, but if they did, they’d only find his food. The first night he’d gone in for his shift, he’d been so nervous, sure someone would question him, search his cooler. No one did.
He chuckled.
It never occurred to anyone that someone might be adding blood to the supply outside of the system they had in place.
Anyone but him. He’d come up with a solution to the problem of low supply and high demand. If you couldn’t get people to volunteer to give blood to save others who needed it—like Mom—then you just had to take it from people who already wasted their lives and didn’t deserve the life-giving fluid.
“We’re trying to find more blood to transfuse her with,” the doctor