both of the arteries, this guy would have bled out in no time.”
“Can he talk to us?” I asked.
“Unconscious,” the medic answered, then to my disappointment he added, “He was out cold when we got here. Hasn’t said a word. But even if he were awake, he wouldn’t be able to talk. Not with his throat in that condition.”
“Why haven’t you moved him?” I asked.
Even when patients are comatose, medical personnel are acutely aware that they may be able to hear, so we followed him into the mudroom to get out of earshot.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the medic said. “We’re trying to administer fluids and stabilize him before we load him on the ambulance. Without that, it’s doubtful he’d survive the ride.”
“Okay,” Max said. “Got it.”
Jacob, of course, wouldn’t be able to get a transfusion until they got him to the hospital; ambulances didn’t carry blood because of its short shelf life, and the fact that it has to be warmed before being administered. Instead the EMTs were attempting to hook up a saline IV to replenish his lost fluids. The problem: heavy blood loss had dehydrated Jacob and constricted his veins; the medic in charge was having a hard time inserting a needle into his patient’s arm.
Unconscious, struggling to breathe, Jacob had bloody foam bubbling from his cut throat with each gasp for air. Assessing his dire condition, I found it impossible to think of him as lucky.
“What are his odds?” Max asked.
The medic shook his head. “Not good. If we’d gotten here even a bit earlier… But he’s got a chance.”
We had no way to help Jacob or to make any headway on the case simply waiting, so I said, “Max, I should call Mullins.”
He shot me a concerned look but nodded. With that, Max and the medic walked back into the kitchen, while I lagged behind in the mudroom. On my cell phone, I hit the listing for the station house. Stef answered: “Alber PD.”
“What are you doing on the desk?” I asked.
“Just relieving Kellie,” she explained. I’d hired Kellie Ryland to work the dispatch desk, but Stef was still training her. “What’s it like out there?”
“Bad,” I said. “Really bad.”
“Shoot,” she said.
“Listen, as soon as Kellie returns, head over here and watch the CSI unit work. It would be good for you to see how a case like this is handled first hand.”
“You bet. She’s walking over to the desk now. I’ll be right there. Anything else?”
“I need to talk to Mullins,” I said.
“He’s not in yet. Called in about half an hour ago and said he might be late. He had a report to take on a break-in at a house in town. Someone got into the garage and stole the homeowner’s tool box. Had some valuable stuff in there to work on cars.”
“Hmm.” I took a deep breath. Those were more the types of crimes I was used to in Alber. Not quadruple murders. I thought about Mullins and considered calling him directly, but decided against it. I didn’t want to deliver this kind of bad news over the phone. “When Mullins gets there, ask Kellie to instruct him to wait for me. Tell her to give me a heads-up, and I’ll drive into town. I need to talk to him in person.”
“Something up?” she asked.
“Nothing we can talk about now,” I said. “Just ask him to wait there for me.”
“Will do,” Stef said.
I hung up and trekked back into the kitchen. Max was still watching the medics work on Jacob. One had finally gotten an IV started and he held a bag while the other two monitored their patient’s vitals.
“Did you get in touch with Mullins?” Max asked.
“He’s not in,” I said. “I’ll head in to talk to him once he arrives.”
Max shook his head. “Poor guy.”
“Yeah,” I said. Determined to put the time to good use, I asked, “So where’s Laurel?”
Five
“What do you make of the lipstick?” I asked Max.
“Not sure. It’s odd, isn’t it?” he said.
We were holding up the pale blue duvet, doing our best not to disturb the scene, looking at Laurel’s body. She had on a sweet cotton nightgown covered with flowers, one that reminded me of the type a little girl might wear. It struck me as a stark contrast to the angry red lipstick encircling her mouth. From the copious amount of blood saturating the sheets beneath her, it appeared evident that this time the killer hadn’t spared the knife; the gash was longer