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10
Owen gripped the splintered wood of the railing and focused on Marie. “Grab the backpack and come up here. Now.”
Satisfied Marie could make it safely up the tree, he ran back to Tommy and dropped to his knees. With one hand cradled around his neck, he gently turned him so he laid on his back. Owen placed one trembling hand on Tommy’s chin, tilted his head slightly, and pinched his nose. Leaning forward, he sealed his mouth over his brother’s and breathed life into him. He needed to keep oxygen in Tommy’s brain until he could get the lifesaving drug inside him.
A huff of labored breath preceded Marie over the side of the platform.
Owen released his mouth and glanced at her. “Give me the bag. Hurry.”
Thank God he always kept Narcan in his bag. He just never imagined he’d have to use it on his brother.
Marie ripped the bag off her back and threw it toward him.
He caught it one-handed, unzipped the front pouch, and yanked a syringe out of its case. A red cover guarded the pointed tip of the needle, and Owen tore it off. He placed the end against the middle of Tommy’s thigh and pressed the device against his leg. A click sounded and a hissing noise vibrated against Owen’s hand as the medicine flowed into Tommy.
Time crawled by.
Come on. Don’t die on me.
Yanking his phone from his pocket, he called 911. “I’ve got a deputy down. Accidental exposure to Fentanyl-like substance. Narcan has been administered, but still need assistance.”
“Where are you located?”
He closed his eyes and fought the urge to scream. “In the middle of the woods. Property owned by Lewis Sinclair, about four miles north of where his house sits.”
A beat of hesitation pulsed on the line. “Okay. Is there any way you can get the officer to an easier point of extraction?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t woken yet.” Emotion made his throat thick, his words hard to squeeze through the ever-tightening space.
A touch on his shoulder had him glancing to the side. Marie’s soft eyes loosened something inside him.
She tilted her head toward Tommy.
Owen whipped back around, catching the tiny flutter of Tommy’s eyelids.
Please wake up.
Marie slid her hand down his shoulder to catch his hand in hers. He squeezed her palm, needing her strength to calm his taut nerves. He kept his gaze fixed on Tommy, willing him to open his eyes.
Tommy’s eyelids squeezed tight. On a sharp gasp of air, his eyes flew open wide. The dark circles of his pupils almost edged out all the hazel of his eyes, and he turned his head back and forth until his gaze latched onto Owen. “What happened?”
Relief released the tension in his body and he leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees.
“Sir? Are you still there?”
Owen straightened and brought the phone to his ear, snapping into get-crap-done mode. “He’s awake. I can get him to the entrance to the trail off Merie Road, the one just north of Lewis’ house. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
He disconnected the call and focused on Tommy. The stupid lump remained lodged in his throat, and moisture misted in his eyes. He sniffed, pulling back the tears and emotion and every terrifying thought that had paralyzed him at the idea of losing his brother. “You must have touched Fentanyl or a synthetic opioid substitute someone made. You fell hard and fast. I had to administer Narcan, and now we need to get you out of this tree to meet an ambulance.”
Tommy let his eyelids drift shut, as if physically taking in the impact of Owen’s words. “Guess that explains why I feel like I was hit by truck. Why did you let me come up here?”
Owen snorted. “Like I could have stopped you.”
Tommy was as stubborn as the rest of the family. But Owen should have been the one to go up the tree. He would have been more cautious, known what to look for and what not to touch.
“Dude, I can see those wheels of yours working. You can’t blame yourself for my stupidity. I should have been more careful. Neither one of us figured this old piece of crap was being used as a drug lab.” Tommy chuckled and the sound morphed into a hacking cough. He propped himself onto his elbows and covered his mouth with his hand.
Owen rubbed circles against the middle of his forehead. He had to be missing something, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t figure out this mess. “Would Bill have experience lacing heroin with Fentanyl? Know where to get all this stuff?”
