The doors of the ER pushed open again and Taylor and Edwards were coming in with Walsh and Converse.
"37 year old male, smoke inhalation, possible head trauma, recovered unconscious at the scene. Pulse is 107, resp 20, B/P 110 over 75," Alex recited when they pushed the gurney with the injured firefighter into the ER.
"23 year old female, smoke inhalation, Pulse 112, resp 18, B/P 102 over 69," Edwards gave the vitals of Converse.
Charlene Converse was walking next to the gurney, holding Billy's hand. She wouldn't leave him. She had trouble breathing, but that she kept to herself because it didn't matter. Billy had to be taken care of first.
"Trauma 3," Nurse Petersen directed them and went ahead. Dr Franklin was already joining them.
"You'll have to wait here," the nurse told Converse and closed the glass doors in front of her.
Charlene wasn't leaving the doors. She watched the doctor and nurses working on Walsh, when she had to cough heavily and tasted blood in her mouth. Then all of a sudden, everything around her went pitch black and she collapsed.
Immediately, several nurses and a doctor were with her.
"Get a gurney!" one ordered.
"She's not breathing!" another said in a worried voice.
"No pulse!"
"Start CPR!" That was the doctor.
And while inside of Trauma 3 Walsh was being stabilised, outside of the trauma room they tried to bring Charlene Converse back to life.
A woman came into the precinct, her eyes red from crying, her hair untidy. She wore no makeup and only casual clothing. She tried to stop sobbing when she approached the front desk, but the tears just didn't want to stop flowing.
"Excuse me," she managed to say with a shaky voice.
"Can I help you?" Sergeant Belker asked her.
"My name is Debbie Bellard…I was notified that my father was killed here today…"
Two minutes later, Sergeant Belker and Miss Bellard were in Lieutenant Swersky's office. In her trembling hands she was holding a paper cup filled with coffee.
"What happened?" she wanted to know, trying hard to keep her voice steady.
Belker sighed and debated inwardly whether or not he should tell her. This would be the job of the Lieutenant, but Swersky was still at the hospital, waiting for a word on Boscorelli.
"Ma'am, your father opened gunfire on a suspect and several police officers and killed a man, injuring an officer critically," Belker started with a calming voice. To the outside he seemed untouched by what had happened before, but inside of him there was a tornado of emotions whirling. Something seemed familiar about the name "Bellard". The Sergeant knew he had heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite put his finger on for a while.
"Do you have any idea why your father would do that?" he asked instead.
The young woman started to cry.
"It's all my fault," she sobbed. "He didn't rape me!"
And there it hit Belker why that name sounded so familiar. The rape case Boscorelli and Yokas had been working on. The deceased suspect.
"What?" Belker asked again, just to make sure he had heard her right.
"I made it up, Clark didn't rape me!" Debbie cried.
"You filed a false complaint?"
She nodded.
"When I tried to hit on him, he didn't take it…I was angry…I never would have…"
Belker sighed heavily and handed her a handkerchief. Swersky would certainly love to hear this, so he asked an uniformed officer to stand by Debbie Bellard while he walked over to the roll call room to call his superior at Mercy Hospital.
Two squad cars stopped in front of 4017 Arthur Street and went dark. Sully, Greene and Gusler got out and went up the stairs to Christine Thomas' apartment, while Davis looked for the super to open the door if necessary.
"I had dispatch try again to call her, but still no answer," Greene explained.
Sullivan knocked hard at the wooden door.
"Miss Thomas, here's the police!" he said with a raised voice so it could be heard inside the apartment. They waited several moments. Still no response. Nothing moved inside.
"Maybe she's visiting a friend," Gusler said. But the looks of his colleagues showed what he was feeling inside. Something was very wrong here.
"Don't you need a warrant or something?" they could hear a voice coming from the stairs. It was the super.
"No, Sir, if we have probable cause that someone inside of that apartment needs our help, we don't need a warrant," Davis explained him.
"That's right. And I just heard "Help me!" coming from the inside," Sully said and looked at Greene and Gusler, hoping they would go along with this. Specially Gusler always played strictly by the book, so John was surprised when Steven Gusler backed him up.
"Yeah, I heard it too!"
Davis gently pushed the elderly super forwards.
"Open up," he asked him with a voice that wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So with trembling hands he unlocked the door and quickly retreated again.
"Thank you, Sir. Now if you would please go back into your apartment. We will let you know when you can do anything else for us."
As soon as the four uniformed officers set foot into the apartment, a sweet yet sickening small welcomed them. Gusler, not being used to that smell, had a hard time keeping his lunch down where it belonged, while his colleagues simply went on with business. If it made them sick to the stomach, at least they didn't show it as clearly as Steven did. While Greene and Gusler started a search in the front part of the apartment with bathroom and kitchen, Sullivan and Davis went into the back where the living room and bed room were.
"Over here…," they heard Sully's voice. He had found Christine Thomas laying on her bed on her stomach. Dried blood had turned the white sheets beneath her red and brown. Sully counted several stab wounds all over her back and legs and knew she was dead, but nevertheless did he feel for a pulse. Christine's body was ice cold. She had been dead a while.
Davis reached for his radio and called for CSU and a medical examiner.
"And contact Lieutenant Swersky at Mercy Hospital. He should better come here fast…"
