Page 202 of Buried Too Deep

Cora dropped Alan’s gun and scooted away from his body, turning to Phin. He’d crawled over to another wall and was attempting to lift his arm over his heart. Because he was still bleeding.

So much blood.

Cora looked around frantically for something to use as a tourniquet. Anything to stop his bleeding. “Why don’t you wear a belt?” she cried, because he was pale and shaking.

He could die.

No. No, no, no.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Call 911.

Do something.

She had no idea where her phone was, so she grabbed Phin’s from his shirt pocket. It had miraculously survived the gunfire without even a scratch. She dialed 911 and put the phone on speaker, begging for help as soon as the operator answered.

She pushed to her feet and began opening drawers, trying to find something to stop his bleeding. Ah. Cloth napkins and…

A wooden spoon. She grabbed the spoon and a handful of napkins.

She could do this. She’d read about it while helping one of her library patrons study for a first-aid exam.

Suddenly calm, she dropped to her knees next to Phin and tied one of the napkins around his arm, above the wound, then inserted the spoon and began to twist it until the tourniquet was tight. She tucked one end of the spoon under his shirt sleeve before pressing another napkin to the wound itself, trying to stop the bleeding.

Phin’s other hand came up to clasp the second napkin, putting pressure on the wound himself. “Go to Patrick. I’m good.”

“You’re not, but I’ll see to him. Don’t die. I just found you.”

Phin’s smile was lopsided. “Okay.”

She kissed him hard, then crawled across the floor to where Patrick lay, struggling for each breath.

Tandy sat staring at him, her eyes glazed in shock. Blood seeped from a wound in her leg, but it didn’t look urgent, so Cora wiped her hands on her jeans before grabbing the tape and pulling it from her friend’s mouth as gently as she could. “Tandy?”

Tandy just stared at her.

Cora spun around on her knees, pressing the remaining napkins to Patrick’s chest. “Why?” she whispered.

“He hurt…my Tandy.”

“You were outside the door.”

Patrick coughed and blood bubbled from his mouth.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Did you kill my father?” She had to know before he breathed his last.

“No. Just…followed him. Needed to make sure he…did the job.”

“He did. He delivered that baby to the Caulfields.”

Patrick made a gurgling sound and reached for Tandy, but all he got was air. Tandy was frozen. Cora wasn’t even sure she could hear them right now.

Across the kitchen, the 911 operator was loudly calling for her, telling her that help was on the way.

“Ambulances,” Cora shouted. “Three. Maybe four.” Because Val was still MIA. She hoped the operator heard her because she needed to focus on Patrick. The napkins were already soaking-wet with his blood.

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