on her tiptoes and peered around him. When he opened the door a man let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank God I found you, Doc Ralston.”
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Carson asked, stepping aside to let the man in.
The man, Harry, was sweating and dirty, dressed in heavy denim, with thick work boots and leaving a trail of wood chips on her floor. He nodded to her. “Dr. Petersen.”
“How can we help you … Harry, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He was twisting a ball cap in his hands and it looked as if he was in shock. “There’s been an accident at Bartholomew’s Mill.”
“An accident?” Carson asked. “What kind?”
“Jenkins had a nasty incident with a saw, but there’s bad smoke from a remote forest fire and we can’t get a chopper in to airlift him to a hospital and paramedics are still two hours away.”
Esme reeled at that information. She knew they were far off the beaten path, but medical help was two hours away? Why wasn’t there a hospital closer?
“Let’s go. I’ll go grab my emergency medical kit.” Carson slapped Harry on the shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind driving, Harry. You know those logging roads better than me in the dark.”
“No problem, Dr. Ralston.”
“Can I help?” Esme asked.
Carson nodded. “Grab as many suture kits as you can.”
Esme panicked. “Hospitals take care of suturing. We’re not surgeons.”
Carson shook his head. “Not around here. I hope you have some surgical skills. We’re going to need them.”
Harry and Carson disappeared into the night. Esme’s stomach twisted in a knot. Suturing? Surgery? This wasn’t what she’d signed up for.
When she’d moved here she’d put that all behind her. She wasn’t a surgeon.
No.
Then she thought of Avery. Her brother bleeding out under her hands. She was being foolish. They needed her help. Someone was in pain. This wasn’t an OR. She would make sure she wouldn’t freeze up. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. This was about sustaining a man’s life until paramedics arrived. Esme rushed into her supply room, grabbed a rucksack and began to pack it full of equipment. Her hands shaking as she grabbed the suture kit.
I can do this.
Besides, she might not even have to stitch him.
Carson could handle it and nothing was going to happen.
This man wouldn’t die.
This wasn’t a surgery case. At least she hoped it wasn’t.
ESME BIT HER lip in worry as they slowly traversed some windy hills up into the mountains. At least that was what she assumed by the bumps and the climbs that tried the engine of Harry’s truck. She couldn’t see anything.
She’d thought she knew what pitch-black was.
The sky was full of clouds and smoke from a forest fire, which Carson had assured her wasn’t any threat to them. California had wild fires, but not really in Los Angeles, at least not when she was there. Then again, she wasn’t a native Californian.
Fire, wilderness, bears, this existence was all new to her, but then this was what she wanted after all. This was a big wide place she could easily blend in. She was small here. A place she could hide, because who in their right mind would come looking for her here?
A large bump made her grip the dashboard tighter. She was wedged between Harry and Carson as they took the logging road deep into the camp.
Another bump made her hiss and curse under her breath.
Carson glanced at her. “You’re mighty tense.”
“Just hoping we don’t die.”
Harry chuckled. “We’re not on the edge of a cliff. Our only threat is maybe a rock slide or a logging truck careening down the road, but since there are no trucks running we’re pretty safe.”
“I’ll keep telling myself that we’re safe, Harry.”
He shook his head, probably at the folly of a city girl. Only it was a dark night like this when Avery had died. She’d only been ten years old, but the memory of her brother’s gaping chest wound was still fresh. The feel of his exposed heart under her small hands, the warmth of his blood felt fresh. It was why she’d wanted to be a cardio-thoracic surgeon.
Why she’d worked so hard to be the best, because Avery had been a constant in her parents’ strained marriage. Even though he’d been twelve years older than her.
He’d been her best friend and when he’d died, her world had been shattered. So she’d dedicated her life to surgery.
The nightmares of his death faded away but nights like this made it all rush back.
Carson slipped an arm around her shoulders and then leaned over. “Relax. You’re okay.”
She glanced at his arm around hers and she wanted to shrug it off, but it felt good there. Reassuring. It made her feel safe and she wished she could snuggle in. Esme let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in trepidation and leaned back against the seat, shrugging off Carson’s arm. She could handle this. Alone.
“So what happened again, Harry?” Carson asked.
“Jenkins was overtired and nervous. Our new client, Mr. Draven, was headed out our way tomorrow. One wrong move and …” Harry trailed off.
Esme froze at the mention of the name Draven.
Dammit.
Though it couldn’t be Dr. Draven, her former mentor. Eli was a cardio-thoracic surgeon. Still the name sent dread down her spine.
Draven was a common name. So there was no way it would be Eli or Shane. Dr. Draven had money, but he invested it in medicine and science. All of Shane’s money was tied up in his company. She doubted he would invest in lumber or a hotel in Montana.
Harry slowed the truck down and she could see light through the trees as the forest thinned out. There were floodlights everywhere and people milling around one of the buildings, which looked like an administrative building. Harry pulled up right in front of it.
Carson opened the door and jumped out, reaching into the back to grab their supplies. Esme followed suit, trying to ignore all the eyes on them as they made their way into the building. The moment the door opened they could hear a man screaming in pain.
Esme forgot all the trepidation
