“What’s your ETA to clear and back up the single in Bed-Stuy?”
“We still need a few minutes here Central, five to ten and we’ll be on it.”
“Two-six did you copy?” Scratched the dispatcher’s voice through the speaker
“Understood. Stand by for a report.”
“Ambulance!” Virginia called into the unit. “I’m coming inside now!”
From the doorway she could see the back of a three-seater sofa which was doing a pretty good job of obscuring the entry. Behind that was the much-too-big — for-this-room TV set sitting on a sideboard which also housed an imitation samurai sword rack amongst empty soda cans and other receptacles which now doubled as ashtrays. A bedroom door was open and visible to the right of the TV up a short hallway, and to the left was a kitchenette, utterly devoid of any clear surface space. Food containers and dishes piled from the sink and spilled to the benches and the overflowing trash nearby. The room had the familiar stink of cigarette ash and mildew.
“Hello? Ambulance! Anyone here?”
No one was in the living room and kitchen.
Virginia found the light switches behind the TV set and to her surprise lights blazed on in both rooms. She moved to the bedroom and found the man. He was little more than a boy really. Certainly not twenty-eight, twenty years old seemed a stretch. He was dead as dead can be. Laying in sneakers, dirty jeans and a black t-shirt on his bed, mouth open with dark doll’s eyes staring up at the roof.
The bedside was a coffee table cluttered with empty pharmaceutical packet strips, cigarette butts stuck into beer can lids, empty drink bottles and candy wrappers. There was a lady’s belt tied loosely around the boy’s left arm, and on the quilt near his right hand a spoon and disposable hypodermic needle with its plunger right to the bottom. For the second time today, Virginia felt the cold skin of death at the young man’s neck through her gloves.
Virginia turned to keep one eye on the door and pinched the radio mike “Three-twenty-six to Central.”
“Central, go ahead twenty-six”
“You can cancel the backup car and start the Police instead. Patient’s deceased”
“Copy that, I’ll get them going for you.”
Virginia stared at the dead man in front of her. He was barely more than a kid. On his left wrist was a gold Rolex. It might have been fake, but then again, if he was dealing the drugs, it might have been real. She shook her head. It was another needless death by someone who should have had an entire life ahead of him. Instead, the fool couldn’t keep his hands off his own merchandise.
Taking in the room around her Virginia saw the duffle bag poking out from under the bed. It seemed out of place. New. Expensive heavy duty brushed steel zippers on thick navy-blue canvas. She turned her head and listened. Only the hum of the distant street. She withdrew the bag. It was heavy. Unzipping it she already knew what she was going to find. Cash. Bundles of hundreds in ten-thousand-dollar blocks. The bag was full of them. Probably fifty of them. Probably enough to pay for her father’s treatment. The gods were tormenting her. How could she live with herself if she took this money? How could she live with her father's death if she didn't?
She depressed her transmit button on her radio. “Three-two-six to Central.”
“Go ahead Twenty-Six.”
She felt her heart pumping in her throat and her ears. “Can I please get an ETA on the police?”
About a minute went by. “I’m sorry three-two-six. The Dees have been diverted to a shooting. You might be stuck there a while.”
“Understood.”
Virginia weighed it all up in a less than a minute, like it was the most important decision of her life. If she left the money now, it would be left to dwindle away in the police evidence storage in the off chance they would one day get to prosecute someone. Given that someone was now dead, it was unlikely anything good would come of it. It might be a decade before anyone ruled as much, and by then the money would have been forgotten about. If she stole the money, she was committing a serious crime and if caught, it would destroy the career she loved, and most likely see her behind bars for a long time.
But if she got away with it, she might just get to pay for her father’s treatment.
Virginia stared at the duffel bag. Her mouth set hard with the fatalistic decision and dogged determination, she started down a dangerous path. She needed to steal the money. Could she keep a secret for the rest of her life? A life of honesty and duty turned in seconds? Could she look at herself in the mirror and hold her head up high knowing what she’d done?
Hell yeah!
She made her decision with conviction, without even once stopping to answer the question, if the kid had been dead for hours, then who called the ambulance?
Chapter Seventeen
Virginia moved quickly.
If the adrenaline was pumping before, now it was a torrent. Her hands were shaking as she emptied the two medical kits onto the floor next to the dead man, as though she'd attempted to commence resuscitation. She then started to frantically shove bricks of cash into the empty resus bags.
The seconds raced by.
She filled both medical kits, but it seemed to barely make a dent in the pile of cash. How much money could there possibly be? She was hoping to shift the cash in one go, but now it was obvious that would be impossible. The thing with $10,000 bundles of cash was that they didn’t compress at all. They had been sealed tight, and like small bricks, they couldn’t be manipulated to squeeze into the bag once it was full.
Virginia quickly zipped up the duffel bag. If the detectives arrived while she was still outside it would at least stop them from drawing their immediate attention to the money, where they might guess that she’d stolen the rest of it.
She picked up the two medical kits. They felt noticeably heavier, but still easy enough to move. She glanced at the scene. There was a lot of medical equipment strewn across the bed. If another paramedic turned up, it would be obvious that something was wrong. There was no reason for her to have taken out all of the equipment and even less of a reason for her to put away her medical kits without packing some of it back in. If the detectives arrived, she would have to simply pretend that it was all disposable equipment — once only use — that she would pack up with her yellow medical waste bags.
Virginia took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. She would either succeed or get caught and go to prison. All or nothing.
She stepped out into the hallway, feeling thankful for its busted light, which shrouded her in darkness. Virginia turned her head to the right, scanning for a neighbor or friend to step out of one of the adjoining apartments. There weren’t any. She didn’t have much to worry about, people in this part of the neighborhood know to stay indoors when they see flashing blue and red lights of an emergency vehicle.
Virginia opened the door and stepped out.
In the open, she felt vulnerable. Like a bank robber out of the vault, but not yet in the get-away car, or an escaped prisoner who’d burrowed under the main gate only to find themselves in an open field filled with spotlights. She walked with a brisk, purposeful pace. She felt like a fraud. As though someone would spot the oddity any minute and question her. But there was nothing abnormal about a paramedic moving quickly while carrying two kits full of emergency medical equipment. Even if she was walking back toward the ambulance.
It didn’t matter what she looked like. She had to keep moving. The general duties police officers might be delayed at another scene, but the detectives could show up unannounced whenever they felt like it.
She crossed the front lawn, stepping over the clutter of broken toys, and a moment later unlocked the ambulance. She slid open the sliding door, climbed into the back and closed the door behind her. She depressed the lock and let out a deep breath.