Critical Pursuit by Janice Cantore

was no Vicki waiting at home for him.
    He’d never imagined her loss would hit him so hard all over again. He was so sure patrol would be his salvation now. But as he watched Caruso talking to the handling day unit, it felt as though he were detached from the situation, viewing everything from above but not actively involved.
    * * *
    As Brinna reached the crime scene, she forgot Jack. The young woman on the gurney took her breath away. Her faceresembled raw hamburger, and while the paramedics tried to assess her condition, her breathing rasped and rattled.
    “What did he beat her with?” she asked the day guy, an officer named Nugent.
    He pointed to a wooden figurine of a horse, stained with what appeared to be blood, on a bench next to him. “That. Might be a homicide. Not sure if she’ll pull through; medics are having a hard time stabilizing her for transport. Thanks for rolling.” He waved his hand around the apartment complex. “We’ve got a ton of neighbors to interview and a large scene to secure. I guess we’re thin all over the city. It’s just the four of us right now.”
    Brinna contemplated the courtyard and all the people watching the police activity. Jack was standing to one side, out of the way, but not jumping in to help. Nugent’s partner had a roll of yellow police tape, and he was stringing it around the perimeter of the courtyard crime scene.
    Children hung over the railing staring at the bloody victim. Brinna felt sick to her stomach, not wanting the youngsters to view the carnage.
    “Where is the suspect?” Brinna asked, needing a task.
    Nugent shrugged. “Not sure. When we got here, the victim was in the courtyard bleeding to death.”
    “Where’d the 911 call come from?”
    “Well, a couple neighbors called in, but the first one came from her apartment.” Nugent pointed across the way to a first-floor apartment with its front door open. “It was an incomplete. No one said anything. We figure she dialed and then stumbled out here. He’s probably in the wind.”
    “Right. I’ll check it out. If this turns into a homicide, the apartment will need to be sealed and photographed.” Brinna left Nugent and walked toward the open door. Jack followed, but she paid him no mind.
    Once inside the apartment, it was easy to see a battle had taken place. The TV was busted, the couch overturned, and broken picture frames and glass littered the floor.
    “What’s in here?” Jack asked from the doorway. “I thought Nugent wanted us to talk to wits.”
    “A hunch, that’s all. Why don’t you go talk to wits?” Brinna didn’t turn around. She continued through the apartment. Something was nagging; she couldn’t put her finger on it.
    Milo always says trust your instincts.
    She heard water running. Turning left into the bathroom, she saw the top of a man’s head sticking out of an overflowing tub of water.
    “In here,” she called out, rushing to the tub. She grabbed an arm to pull the man’s face out from under the water and stretched to turn the water off. He’d cut his wrists across the veins, so when he’d lost consciousness, the hands had flopped down and stopped the bleeding.
    As she struggled with the deadweight, she wondered where Jack was and called out again. “O’Reilly, in the bathroom.”
    Grunting, she grasped the man under the armpits and pulled him backward, out of the tub. He scraped his hip on the shower door, but she figured that was the least of his worries. Once he was on the bathroom floor, the wrists began to bleed again.
    Brinna cursed and grappled with her handheld.“4-Frank-8, advise Boy-5 I have a second subject in the apartment and I need medics.”
    Grasping the hands of the limp form in front of her, she curled them inward and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, then pushed the man’s stomach in with the back of his hands. Water poured out of his mouth, and in a second he began to cough. After that he began to breathe, sputtering at first, without