Blood Games by Jerry Bledsoe Read Free Book Online Page A

station, a meticulous record keeper, wanted additional information.
    “… And a knife,” Bonnie said.
    For a few moments Michelle tried to talk to Bonnie and Lewis at the same time. “Captain Lewis, I’ve still got ten-thirty-three traffic,” she finally said. “I’ll call you as soon as I get some more, buddy. Bye-bye.”
    “Bonnie?” she said into the other phone.
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, now you hang in there with me.”
    “Don’t let my daughter in here,” Bonnie said.
    “Okay, tell her not to come in here,” Tetterton called to Edwards in the hall.
    “She advised not to let her daughter in there,” Michelle radioed.
    “Ten-four,” said Tetterton.
    “Bonnie,” Michelle said.
    “Yes.”
    “The rescue’s coming, okay?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay, don’t look at your husband.”
    She looked up instead to see Tetterton looming over her.
    “Officer Sparrow,” she said.
    “This is the policeman, hey,” said Tetterton, reaching for the phone.
    “Tetterton?” Michelle said into the phone.
    “Yo.”
    “God…” Michelle said with a sigh of relief. “… I’m glad to hear you.”
    “We got to have a uh … uh … a rescue right quick,” he said
    “They’re on the way.”
    “Okay, I’m going to hang up, then.”
    David Sparrow had heard Tetterton’s frantic calls for rescue over his car radio. He had been an emergency medical technician before becoming a police officer. Still carrying his shotgun, he got a portable oxygen tank and mask from his car and sprinted to the house. Edwards opened the front door for him. Sparrow hurried up the stairs and entered the bedroom to see Tetterton taking the telephone receiver from a woman lying on the floor in a bloodied nightgown. He quickly checked the man on the bed, searching for a pulse, but realized that he was dead. He took the oxygen tank to the woman, and saw that she had been stabbed in the chest and was having trouble breathing.
    “Okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he said, preparing the mask.
    “Don’t let my daughter in here,” the woman repeated.
    Sparrow had seen the young woman in the hallway outside the door, and he went out and asked her to go downstairs and wait.
    “Don’t touch or move anything,” he said as she descended the steps.
    The ambulance turned onto Lawson Road, its siren further rending the shattered silence of the morning. It came to a halt, and the two men inside, David Hall and Mike Harrell, both firefighters and emergency medical technicians, jumped from the vehicle. Hall was carrying the trauma bag, and Harrell, who had been driving, followed him to the front porch at a trot.
    Through the glass storm door they saw a young woman sitting on a step near the bottom of a staircase, chin in hand. She stood when she saw them and opened the door.
    “Upstairs,” she said.
    At the top of the stairs they encountered Edwards and Tetterton.
    “You got one on the bed and one on the floor,” Tetterton said. “I think one of ’em’s gone and the other one’s fading fast.”
    Hall and Harrell were expecting some blood, but they were startled when they entered the room and saw blood everywhere. Both men pulled on rubber gloves and went first to the man on the bed. They rolled him over and saw a big stab wound in the center of his chest, right above his heart. Blood already had begun to gel on the man’s chest, and he had no pulse.
    Both men turned their attention to the woman on the floor.
    “How’re you doing?” Hall asked, kneeling beside her in a small puddle of blood.
    “Not too good,” she said.
    He began wrapping a blood pressure gauge around her arm.
    “Is he dead?” the woman asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, at least he’s not suffering,” she said.
    She had cuts on her head and a sucking chest wound that no longer was bleeding. But she had lost a lot of blood, and her blood pressure was dangerously low. A call had to be made to the hospital emergency room to alert the staff to the situation and to get a