The Lost Door Read Free Page A

mid-twenties, didn’t stir.
    A pedestrian in a gray suit ran up. “Is he alright? Do you need help?”
    Willem gave the guy a cursory glance as Justin approached. “Please stand back, sir,” was all he managed before Justin crouched next to him, dropping a medical bag. To his partner, he said, “Unconscious. Looks like he’s pinned.”
    “We won’t be able to do anything if we don’t get this truck flipped,” replied Justin.
    Willem looked at the man in the suit who was now on his cell. “Hey! Come here!”
    “Gotta go!” Suit jammed his phone in his pocket and ran over.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Jim.” His voice quivered with adrenaline.
    “We have to flip the truck Jim. Can you help?”
    “Flip? How?” He looked tense and on edge.
    “We push it.”
    Willem stepped to the middle, Justin the hood, Suit took the trunk. Willem looked to each man. “Okay. On the count of three.” He paused, readying himself against the car, “One.” He glanced at Justin who was watching him intently. “Two.” Justin gave him a nod. “Three!”
    The three men pushed into the pickup, straining their shoulders, putting everything they had into it flipping it. Two men who had been on the sidelines gawking ran over, throwing their weight into the truck too.
    The truck tilted. Jim’s penny-loafered foot slipped on the pavement, but he regained his balance quickly. “Keep pushing!” Justin grunted through gritted teeth. The car began to tilt as more pedestrians collected like insects to a light. “We’re almost there!”
    The unconscious man’s unnaturally twisted arm dangled from the window opening. It was covered in blood from a large cut across the bicep. Drops of crimson hit the pavement as distant sirens echoed through the air.
    Gravity took over and pulled the car down with a solid thunk , broken glass falling away. Willem reached through the window and felt for a pulse as Justin opened his bag. For a few short seconds Willem feared the man dead, but then he felt a weak but stable heartbeat. “Got a pulse,” he told his partner who was putting a stethoscope in his ears.
    Justin pressed the stethoscope bell to the man’s chest. Seconds ticked by. “Respiration is good,” he said as he draped the stethoscope over his neck. Justin dug in his bag and pulled out gauze and handed it to Willem then raced back to the ambulance.
    Willem dressed the laceration in the man’s bicep, the red spreading outward. He made it as tight as he could and taped it down.
    “Anything else we can do?” asked Suit.
    Willem glanced at him and gave him a short smile. “No. Thanks for your help, sir. Now please stand back.” The man did as told and was back on his phone. Sirens were fast approaching; the other emergency responders would be there in a minute.
    The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity. A police car arrived as Willem and Justin were pulling the man from the car. The officer began asking questions and taking notes. Two fire trucks arrived, another police car, a second ambulance. The woman in the sedan was giving a statement to another officer while they loaded the unconscious man into the back of their ambulance. The bus riders were filing off of it, some bruised but no one seriously injured.
    Willem and Justin loaded the man into the back of the ambulance. Willem stayed in the back while Justin took the driver’s seat. Seconds later they raced off to Mercy Hospital, sirens blaring.
     
    * * *
     
    After leaving David Rottingham by his car, Stavic drove to the two-story brown brick station. He parked in the back and walked in through its entrance. He grabbed a coffee in the kitchen before going to his desk, on which sat a manila folder. He sat, took a sip of the too strong coffee, and flipped it open. Perfect, and just what he needed to counteract the sleepless night he’d had. Three pages from the coroner were inside, the preliminary results for a John Doe.
    The stripped and eviscerated body had been found