Page 61 of Backdraft
Chapter Seventeen
Taylor’s phone chimed. He looked at the message and puffed out a breath. Not so perfect timing. The last thing he wanted was to leave Drea without mending what had broken between them tonight.
But, he was called out to pronounce at a scene. His coverage area was large, and there were times when he had quite a distance to travel. This call was about an hour away.
He'd gone up to tell Drea, but her door was closed. He stood for a moment at the top of the stairs and debated if he should knock. It was quiet behind her door. Maybe she'd fallen asleep or was resting.
He didn't want to interrupt her, but he also wanted to clear the air on what had happened earlier. Going to bed angry was right up there with not saying goodbye when leaving. You never know what might happen.
He hated that they'd argued. It was stupid too, on both sides. Misunderstandings had the potential to do a lot of damage. But, he wasn't able to fix it right now, and would definitely make sure they did when he got back.
He kept a change of clothes in his truck and at his office. Always prepared in case he got a call. He smiled, knowing she did the same. Between the two of them, they were always on alert. Even on a day off because something big could go down and they had a go-bag ready as well. You got used to it, but sometimes those around you, family and friends, couldn't.
Many people that didn't work shifts or who weren’t on call didn't understand the demands of the job coming at all hours. It often meant people faded away over time, and it was why cops, firefighters, doctors and nurses tended to gravitate toward each other.
Taylor grabbed his keys, wallet, and identification and wrote Drea a quick note about where he was going. That done, he closed and locked the door behind him.
He'd go to the office to change and collect the coroner's van. He preferred to drive it rather than his own vehicle. He didn't like using his personal truck for security reasons and to lessen exposure to his private life.
People were unpredictable. In moments of despair and with all the emotions around a death, there were sometimes volatile situations. Look at what was happening to Drea right now.
He shook his head as he drove. It was terrible, and he felt for her. It was as if he was living it alongside her. But he was only seeing it from an outsider’s point of view, not from hers. That's what led to the blow up. He hadn't done a great job at expressing his concern or simply just listening to her.
He'd have to do better.
He debated calling her, but if she was sleeping, he didn't want to wake her. She'd call if she needed him. They'd navigated their living arrangements quite well so far, and he was happy with how it was working out.
Their history had given them a head start. He liked her in his house and in his life. Their row had jeopardized it, and he was determined to fix the misunderstanding. The drive gave him time to think about what he'd say to Drea.
Taylor pulled up to the house, the two police cruisers in front told him exactly where he needed to be. He was met at the door by the sergeant.
"I'm Dr. Peel. The coroner." Taylor introduced himself.
"In here."
Taylor followed the cop inside the house and listened as he gave background on the incident.
"It's an elderly couple. His wife is the deceased. He's taken it really hard."
He approached the location, pulled on gloves, and scanned the area. It was important to take in as much as he could without a camera. He’d make proper notes later, and pulled out his mini recorder to dictate what he saw.
Elderly woman at the bottom of the stairs. Frail, in her eighties. Possibly a fall down the stairs.
He leaned down to look closer and touched her hand.
Deceased within the past couple of hours. Blow to the head. Appears to be multiple broken bones, leg, forearm, shoulder. Head is at an awkward angle.
Taylor rested his palm on her shoulder, quietly saying a few words. It was his way of acknowledging the passing of someone. It was one of the reasons why he’d switched his medical path. He felt it was an honor to be the last witness as somebody left this world to go into the next.
Taylor stood and walked over to her husband.
"Sir, are you okay?"
Her husband of probably equal age was sitting on the step. His arms hung between his knees, and he stared blankly at the floor. Not his wife, just at the floor. I knew he wouldn't be far behind the fate of his wife. He was brokenhearted. It made Taylor sad. To love meant heartache.
There was nothing suspicious here. From what Taylor could see, she must've tripped in the upstairs hallway and fallen down the stairs. He turned to the sergeant.
"Any reason to believe this is suspicious?" Taylor asked.
