He got Ariana back in her car, sending her on her way to work, and called Pound, who was supposed to have picked up his ride with the truck. He and Traunch should be around the corner and ready to pick him up. It was time to get serious and stop playing house.
“You look happy today,” Sal commented as he and Ariana cleaned the back of the bus.
She nodded. “I talked to my father last night. It went really well.”
“That’s fantastic, Ariana. I’m happy for you.” Sal still watched her, and she waited for the next question. “There’s something more than that going on. Talk to me, woman. Spill the gossip. No one tells me anything because they ‘respect’ me. What that amounts to is that I get left out. Share something juicy with me.”
Ariana couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m seeing someone, and I introduced him to my family today. It went beautifully. My sister was so jealous she couldn’t even stay in the room. My mother went ballistic because she doesn’t approve of any man. And my father adored him. I couldn’t have asked for anything better!”
“Your idea of perfect is a little imbalanced, but I’m glad it made you happy. Who’s the guy?”
Did she dare tell him? You really should talk to Vince first and find out where he’s at. “It’s not serious right now, and I promised I wouldn’t let the cat out of the bag until we talked about it.”
Sal made a disgusting sound. “Bullshit. Unless you’re embarrassed or something, you can tell me. I won’t tell, you know that.” He winked at her. “The secrecy makes me think things worse than you could possibly share. You know, like maybe you’re dating a biker or something.”
Ariana looked away quickly so as not to give herself away. “You are utterly and completely ridiculous. Now, do your job. When the time is right, I’ll tell you every little detail.”
Sal wagged his tongue. “Don’t forget the sex. I love picturing coworkers naked and sweaty.”
Ariana threw her rag at him and jumped out of the bus. “Gutter dog,” she called back. She heard him howl in response and went to wash her hands, shaking her head with a smile. Men.
As she strode back toward the side of the bus and considered hosing it down, she heard the radio. Sal jumped out of the back and hustled toward the driver’s seat. Ariana picked up the pace and hopped in the passenger side, picking up the radio. “Unit 54B, what’s the call, over?” she said into the intercom.
The static filled answer came, “Unit 54B, we need multiple units in quick response to the parking lot at 440 Yauger Way SW. Multiple gunshots were fired. Repeat, there are likely multiple gunshot victims, over.”
Sal pulled out, sirens blaring. “Copy. I’m on the way.”
Ariana spoke into the radio. “Unit 54B, we’re about four minutes out, and three other units are right behind us, over,” she added, seeing two ambulances and a fire truck in the firehouse lighting up to follow them.
“Proceed with caution, Unit 54B. Police are en route and should arrive before you, but proceed with extreme caution. Over and out.”
“Sounds like a big one. What the hell do you think happened?” Sal asked as he flew around a corner.
Ariana was unsettled, and for some reason, she worried about what she’d find. It wasn’t a matter of concern over death; she’d crossed the bridge now, and she’d made her peace with the fact that it was part of her job. Something else rang in the back of her mind, though, like a warning bell, and her stomach turned. She wanted to hurl, and she cracked her window to let some fresh air hit her face.
They arrived, pulling up at the edge of the parking lot on the street. There was no way Sal could cut through the mass of police cars, uniformed officers, and milling people that several officers were trying to hold behind the barrier of yellow tape they were still putting up.
Grabbing the field bag, Ariana followed Sal toward the middle of the melee and stopped cold. Three men lay on the ground, pools of blood forming beneath them. She found it highly unlikely they could save any of them, but one of the men groaned, and she called to Sal, “Over here!”
“I’ll be right there,” he called back as she knelt beside the man, who had one shot to the stomach and another that seemed to have just missed his heart but probably caught a lung. She glanced back to find her partner checking the other two men. He directed a team to one that still had a pulse, and another team knelt by the man that was no longer breathing. As she gazed around, she noticed a fourth man sitting on the hood of a police car, holding pressure to his shoulder. He could wait for a moment, if that was the only injury he had. The last bus would be around the corner any moment.
She turned her attention back to her own victim. She checked him over for other injuries as Sal put pressure to the two wounds. She found nothing else and started taking vitals. “His blood pressure is low, but his heart rate is good,” she told Sal as he started to field dress the gunshots. “If we can stop the bleeding, he should be alright.”
“This one’s close to the heart,” Sal muttered as he bandaged the upper wound.
“I don’t think it caught his heart, but he’s gurgling a little. There might be blood leaking into his lungs.” All they had to do was hurry, and the ER would fix that. He wouldn’t drown that way. She moved up to look at his face. “Can you hear me, sir? What’s your name?”
He moved his mouth, but nothing came out. She waited, and one eye blinked open. He breathed something, and she leaned over to listen. “Orlando Cortez.”
She nodded. “Okay, Mr. Cortez, we just need you to keep still and stay with us. We’ll get you fixed up.” She met Sal’s eyes. “I’ll get the stretcher.”