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Then I get close enough to see her face, and my heart stops.
“Ari?” My professionalism fades as fear takes over. The woman in the trunk ismyAri?
Ian glances at me, surprise and concern written across his face. “You know her?”
The word tears out of me. “Yes.”
Forget jogging; I sprint over, dropping to my knees in front of her. Rationally, I know I need to follow procedure, but I need to see her.
“Cash?” She looks at me, and it’s like someone punched me in the chest. Her face is all scratched, eyes wide and frightened, her cheeks shining wetly. She tries to say something else, but the words catch, and she starts crying harder instead.
“Oh, Ari.” I’ve known her for over fifteen years and I’ve never seen her cry like this.
Ian joins me on the ground, and I shove down the urge to hug her, forcing myself to focus. I need to triage her, see where she’s hurt, do whatever I can to make sure my friend is okay.
As Ian checks her pulse and I take her blood pressure, she whispers, “I was so scared. I didn’t want to jump. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
She’s shaking, most likely in shock, an adrenaline dump, hopefully not an indicator of something worse. Her breathing is fast, pulse racing, and I need to calm her down before she hyperventilates.
Her hands are trembling, raw and bleeding, and I clasp one of them between mine. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.”
I don’t feelokay when I see the terrible scrapes revealed under torn fabric, raw spots on her soft skin, layers peeled away from hitting the pavement.
I don’t feel okay when Ian looks in her eyes and reports, “Definitely drugged. Pupils still dilated.”
And I really don’t feel okay when I examine her swollen wrist, hearing her pained cry as I touch it.
It’s a small miracle that Ari doesn’t appear to have any broken bones or the deep bruising that would indicate internal bleeding. And she doesn’t seem to have a concussion—as I carefully inspected her head for wounds, she whispered, “I tucked and rolled. I was trying to protect my head.”
And then she continues, “I knew I could break my neck. But I couldn’t bear to go wherever Sean wanted to take me.”
I’m growling in anger when Ian nudges me. “The ambulance is here. Give them some room.”
It’s two paramedics I know well—Ben and Ryan—and I give them both a quick nod as Ian fills them in on Ari’s condition.
Even though I’ve worked with them both for years and consider them friends, I’m still reluctant to give up her care to them. But I need to get out of the way and let them do their jobs.
“These guys will take care of you,” I tell Ari, patting her arm. Then I back away, but still close enough that she can see me.
On the stretcher, hooked up to various monitors, Ari flashes me a panicked look. Her voice wobbles as she asks, “Will you stay with me?”
“I have to get back to duty,” I say softly, my gut twisting, hating the look of disappointment and fear on her delicate features.
Shit. I meet Ian’s gaze, raising my eyebrows in silent question.
“It’s alright,” Ian says as we load the stretcher into the ambulance. “I’ll call Grant, have him come in for the rest of the shift. You stay with her.”
“Are you sure?” I really don’t want to leave Ari alone, but I can’t leave the station understaffed, either.
Ian jerks his chin at me. “I’m sure. If Grant can’t do it, I’ll get one of the other guys instead.”
My shoulders sag. “Thanks.”
I glance at Ben, one of the paramedics working on Ari. “I’m coming with her.”
He gives me a quick nod, his eyes widening in understanding, and gestures for me to join him in the ambulance.
She’s quiet on the way to the hospital, just squeezing my hand and staring up at me with her expressive eyes—so scared, but trusting me to take care of her.
