to discover their cell phones didn’t work in the northwoods where few cell towers existed and even those were good only within five miles of the nearest town, sometimes not even that. And a town could be forty, fifty miles away. Until Sprint PCS executives felt a driving need to be in touch with the home office while
they
were fishing, cell phones would remain next to useless in the northwoods. For Lew, the radio in her police cruiser was still the best option.
“Doc, it’s ringing,” said Lew, relief in her voice. “Hey, Chief Ferris here—I need an emergency vehicle on Highway 45 about five hundred yards north of Ginty Road. Tell ‘em to come across County C! Right now, the victim is … victim’s convulsing.
“Yes, we’re doing CPR but the victim is not conscious. Okay, I’ll hold…. ”
Osborne kept working. Phone to her ear, Lew waved off a car that had pulled over.
“EMT’s on their way? Good—then patch me through to my switchboard. No, I have no idea what the problem is. We saw her convulsing or choking—I don’t know. Please, I need my switchboard—”
Lew looked down with exasperation. “Doc, sometimes I wonder…. ”
Just as she spoke, the girl moaned. Osborne slowed his movements. The girl gagged and coughed. Off in the distance he could hear Lew giving directions to whoever was on duty at the police switchboard, but his focus was the limp form beneath him. The girl was still a strange blue-white, her eyes rolled up behind the lids—but she was breathing.
Raising himself up onto his knees, he listened … she kept breathing. He moved off to the side, never taking his eyes off the girl’s face. The eyes remained half-open, unseeing.
“Looking better, I hope?” Lew leaned in for a better view.
“Slightly.” Osborne laid the back of his right hand against the girl’s forehead, “I’m guessing but I think she’s got a high body temp, Lew. It’s not that hot out…. ”
“Her hair is wet with sweat,” said Lew. “I thought she was choking—”
“Looked like convulsions to me,” said Osborne. He felt around the girl’s neck, just under the edge of her collar, then glanced down to her wrist. “No ID necklace or bracelet to indicate she’s got epilepsy or diabetes.”
“Fever, maybe?”
Osborne shrugged. He could hear the wail of the approaching ambulance. They would know the answer to that.
The girl was slight, blond, and dressed in a short-sleeved lime green T-shirt over a pair of slacks the same color. No bra, which had made Osborne’s efforts easier. The left foot still wore a matching lime green sandal; the other had fallen off when he pulled her from the car. Lew stooped to remove the other sandal, then set both neatly on the front seat of the girl’s car. As she did so, she picked up a tan leather fanny pack that was lying there.
Opening the fanny pack, Lew pulled out a small French coin purse. Tucked into that was a driver’s license. “Ellen Andrews … age nineteen … Wausau street address.” Lew turned the license over to examine it. “If it said she was twenty-one, I would say it’s a fake ID—but this looks like the real thing.”
Just then three EMTs, two women and a man, jumped from the ambulance and ran toward them. “Good, Chris is on tonight. I know him,” said Lew of the stocky, fair-haired man leading the way. Osborne guessed him to be in his mid-twenties.
“Jessie?” said Osborne as the women neared. He was surprised to see that one of the two was a former patient. “What are you doing here? I thought you worked in advertising.”
Even as he asked the questions, Osborne stepped back and out of their way. Jessie could answer his questions later. Lew, meanwhile, had run off toward two more cars that had pulled over. With an emphatic swing of her arm, she motioned for them to keep going.
Osborne stood back and watched the EMTs, relieved to turn over the responsibility. Jessie certainly seemed to know what she was doing. Oldest of