Forty-Six
WHEN BURT HAD described to me what had happened to Reggie Piersall, he’d talked about the drill for cops when people “go down” because of a drug overdose, and how frequently cops are the first responders.
Burt Webb has once again taken the lead. A kid has gone down in the parking lot, and he’s going to get there first. Within five minutes, the day has turned into a crime scene with a roped-off perimeter.
Mayor Larson, quickly made aware of what’s happened, orders the cops on crowd control into position, then steps back to the microphone.
“There has been an incident in the parking lot,” Claire Larson says. “Everybody leave from the far entrance to Silas Tucker Field.”
I follow Burt Webb.
“Silas is with Burt,” I hear one cop on the scene perimeter saying to the other as they let me pass.
I can hear another distant siren, but can see Burt Webb already performing CPR on the victim before the ambulance arrives.
Another cop—is the entire Cross Rivers force here?
—comes running with what looks like some kind of medical kit, and then I can see the syringe in Burt’s hand as he quickly swings it down toward the victim lying on the ground.
Must be the same drug he’d administered when he’d managed to save Reggie Piersall.
The ambulance is pulling into the parking lot now. I can see the crew jump out, open the back doors, come out with a flat stretcher fixed with an oxygen setup.
I see them talking to Burt, who is standing now, making way for one of the EMTs. In the tech’s hand are what I recognize as defibrillator pads to get the victim’s heart started before it’s too late.
Burt, being Burt and still trying to help, tries to hand the other EMT the oxygen mask then.
But the EMT gives him a long look, shakes his head, puts a hand to Burt’s shoulder.
I see Burt kneel back down as I try to get closer. He stays where he is for what feels like a long and terrible time. When he slowly gets to his feet, I finally get a look at the victim as the EMTs begin to carefully put the body on the stretcher. See her face. See the long blond hair.
I feel all the air come out of me at once.
Burt walks over to where I’m standing, shows me the driver’s license in his hand.
“Riley Millsap,” he says in a dead voice. “Sixteen.” He pauses and says, “Forever.”
And I say, “I know her.”