Page 57 of Whispers of You
“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” A woman’s voice cut across the line, breathy and staccato.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what’s happening?” I quickly scanned the readout as the woman continued her chant. “Ms. Peterson. You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”
“H-he’s dead. I think he’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” My hands flew across the keyboard as Abel got on the radio to alert officers.
“Albert. I—oh, God. I think someone shot him.”
Blood pounded in my ears as the world around me tunneled. Albert Peterson. My sophomore biology and junior chemistry teacher. The man who had always looked at me with kindness. Who had always taken those extra minutes to check in and make sure I was doing okay. One of the members of that club no one wanted to be a member of but were thankful for just the same. A survivor.
“Ms. Peterson. Where are you?”
“I j-just got home, and he was lying on the kitchen floor.”
“I need you to check and see if you can feel a pulse or determine if he’s breathing.”
“There’s so much blood.”
Flashes of memories cycled in my mind. The fire in my chest. The cool tile beneath me. The sticky substance tracking down my arm.
I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. “I know it’s scary, but you can do this. Officers and EMTs are on their way to you now.”
The room behind me was in an uproar. I knew everyone but two officers would take this call. Off-duty cops would flood the place in minutes, wanting to offer their help and support. And our community would lose their mind.
“Oh, God. He’s breathing.”
All the air left me in a whoosh. “That’s good. Can you see the wound?”
“It’s in his chest or his shoulder.” Ms. Peterson struggled to get the words out around her sobs.
“Grab a towel and put pressure on the wound. We want to do everything we can to slow the blood loss.”
“I’ve got one.”
A low moan sounded in the background.
“I’m so sorry, Al. I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.”
“Ms. Peterson, is anyone else in the house with you? Did you see anyone when you came in?”
“No, no one. Who would do this?” Her words were a hushed plea.
I didn’t know. The kind of cruelty it would take to do this to a man who had already been through hell was almost too much to comprehend. “Are there any weapons in the home?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
I could hear Abel relaying all this information to the responding officers.
“I hear sirens. They’re coming.”
“Just stay on the phone with me until they tell you otherwise.”
“Don’t let him die.” Ms. Peterson’s voice trembled with the force of her sobs. “Please, don’t let him die. I almost lost him once…”
Silent tears streamed down my face. “Keep fighting. For both of you.”
“Cedar Ridge police.”
