Chapter 9: The Harbor Triage
The emergency dock at the Camden municipal marina was waiting.
Julian had bypassed the local dispatch, using the vessel's maritime radio to contact the harbor master directly, who in turn had routed the call to the county sheriff and the trauma staff at Pen Bay Medical Center.
As the aluminum cruiser slammed against the wooden pilings of the slip, four paramedics in bright yellow foul-weather gear leapt aboard with a folding stretcher, portable monitors, and emergency medical bags.
"Seventy-four-year-old male, acute intentional potassium overdose, heart rate thirty-eight and dropping!" Clara shouted, her voice cutting through the wind with pure clinical authority. She stood beside the gurney, handing the paramedic the spent syringe she had retrieved from the master suite. "Suspected additive digitalis toxicity. He needs ten percent calcium gluconate immediately, followed by insulin and dextrose!"
The lead paramedic glanced at Clara’s makeshift splint and the blood dried along her hairline. "Are you the nurse?"
"I am," she said, steadying herself against the cabin bulkhead. "Treat him first."
Julian helped the crew hoist his father onto the dock, watching as the paramedics slammed the doors of the primary ambulance and tore down the rain-slicked coastal road with sirens wailing into the night.
A second emergency crew moved toward Clara, but she shook her head, allowing them only to apply a commercial vacuum splint to her left arm before stepping toward Julian.
Beside them, three county sheriff cruisers came skidding to a halt on the gravel pier, their blue and red lights painting the falling rain in surreal patterns. Sheriff Miller, a broad-shouldered man in a heavy waterproof jacket, climbed out, his hand resting on his service weapon.
"Julian," Miller said, his boots crunching on the wet shells. "Your butler called from the landline at the gatehouse fifteen minutes ago. He said you had an intruder secured in the wine cellar."
"It's Nicholas, Sheriff," Julian said, running a wet hand through his dark hair, the rain washing away the plaster dust from his face. "He survived the wreck. He tried to murder my father tonight."
May you like
Sheriff Miller’s jaw dropped in sheer disbelief. "Nicholas? Julian, he was declared dead by the state supreme court two years ago."
"Go out to the house and see for yourself," Julian said, his voice quiet, devoid of anger, filled only with the vast, heavy exhaustion of a war that had finally reached its end. "Walter has him locked in the storage vault. Take four deputies. He’s armed."
