Chapter One
Working a shift with Eric Valero was like being on a bad date for eight hours. Kaia Mercer inwardly sighed as she drove the ambulance back to the station with her temporary partner talking nonstop about how great he was at everything. Shutting up was apparently not one of his many talents. She drew another deep breath as he mentioned for the tenth time a stock that he'd made a killing on by taking a tip from some guy at the gym. If he was doing so well in his outside hustles, she didn't know why he was still a paramedic floater. But she didn't want to ask, because that would only bring more words.
Two more weeks, she reminded herself. Then her partner, Dana Harvey, would be back from her Hawaiian honeymoon, and her life would return to normal. Until then, she had to put up with Eric, who wasn't terrible at his job, just not that great. Her sour mood, however, wasn't just because of Eric. It was ninety-five degrees in Oceanside, and her paramedic's uniform didn't breathe even a little bit. She was really looking forward to tomorrow, when she could put on her bikini and sit by the Ocean Shores pool, which was one of her favorite places to be. For now, the air-conditioned station would have to do.
The radio crackled as another call came in. The air conditioning and the pool would have to wait. And now her irritation was compounded by concern, because she'd been to this address twice in the past two weeks.
"I know this man," she said. "Walter Cobb, eighty years old, diabetic, recently moved in with his granddaughter, who works all the time, leaving Walter on his own. A neighbor called in reporting a possible heart attack two weeks ago and a dizzy spell four days ago. Both times, his blood sugar was low, and he was easily stabilized."
"So, he's a frequent flyer."
"It's looking that way. He needs more care than we can give him, but he's also stubbornly independent and frankly, kind of mean. He doesn't take advice and his granddaughter has never been there when we've been called. There's no one to follow up with, except the neighbor, who's made it clear she's just calling for help, not getting involved."
"Our job is to stabilize him. The rest is up to him and his family," Eric said with a curt edge to his voice.
He wasn't wrong. That was the job. It just didn't always sit right with her, not when she could see a problem that could be solved, or at least improved, with more attention.
She stopped in front of the two-story apartment building on Garrison Street in Oceanside and hopped out of the ambulance. They grabbed their gear and headed into the building, a modest, two-story structure with four apartments, two on each floor.
Walter's unit was on the second floor, and when they reached the landing, the door across the hall opened, with a four-inch chain still firmly in place, a woman's face visible in the open crack.
She'd met Doris Park on the last two occasions. She was a cautious, nosy woman in her seventies who lived alone, and while she didn't want to get involved, she seemed to know everything going on in the building.
"Mrs. Park," she said. "What's going on?"
"I heard a crash. I think Walter fell again. I knocked on his door, but he didn't answer, and his granddaughter, Catherine, isn't home."
"Okay." She knocked on Walter's door. "Mr. Cobb? Are you alright?"
She heard a muffled voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She tried the handle, but the door was locked.
"I have a key," Doris volunteered, holding it in her hand as she extended her arm through the opening.
"Thanks." She didn't bother to ask why Doris hadn't used the key herself to check on Walter. She simply unlocked the door and opened it, then handed the key to Eric, who passed it back to Doris.
As she entered the apartment, she saw Walter in the hallway between the two bedrooms. He was on the floor, slumped against the wall, his face pale.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked in confusion. "I didn't say you could come in."
She dropped to her knees next to him. "Mr. Cobb. It's Kaia Mercer. We met last week. Did you fall?"
"No, I didn't fall. I just sat down," he said with annoyance, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes that told the real story.
"Why don't you let me check things out? How's your blood sugar today?"
"I don't know. Same as always," he grumbled, but he submitted to the finger prick without comment.
The number came back lower than she wanted. She took a gel packet out of her kit. "Your sugar is low. Take this."
"I don't like the taste of that."
"Take it anyway." She gave him a pointed look.
He let out a weary sigh, then swallowed the gel without comment, wincing as he did so.
"Did you eat today?" she asked as Eric checked Walter's blood pressure.
"I had coffee."
