desertion

186

LYDIA

The drive to the 118 was tense. Mason sat in the passenger seat, flipping through the case file while Officer Darden drove, his expression unreadable as always. I sat in the back, staring out the window, my stomach in knots.

I hated this.

It wasn't that I didn't trust the 118-I did, with my life. But interrogating them? Questioning whether they made a mistake? That felt...wrong. These were the people who had saved my dad, my little brother, and me countless times. The idea of standing in front of them, implying that they might have missed something, made me feel sick.

"We need to be direct," Mason said, closing the file with a snap. "We can't let personal relationships get in the way."

Easy for him to say.

I swallowed hard, shifting in my seat. "We don't even know if this was their fault."

"It's not about fault," Darden said from the front. "It's about finding the truth."

I knew that. I did. But knowing and feeling were two different things.

By the time we pulled into the firehouse, my palms were sweating.

********

"Detectives." Bobby Nash greeted us with a wary nod as we walked in. The rest of the team stood nearby, their faces unreadable. Buck, Dad, Chimney, Hen, Ravi-they were all here, waiting.

I avoided their eyes.

Mason stepped forward, all business. "Captain, we need to talk about the call you responded to yesterday afternoon. The woman who later passed away."

Bobby nodded grimly. "We heard."

Hen folded her arms. "We did everything we could for her. We treated her symptoms, assessed her vitals-she was stable when we left."

"We're not accusing you of anything," Darden said evenly. "We just need details."

I kept my mouth shut, staring at the floor.

Mason pulled out his notebook. "Can you walk us through exactly what happened?"

Bobby exhaled, nodding toward Hen. "She and Chimney took the lead on this one."

Hen straightened. "We got the call at 3:42 PM. A 37-year-old woman, Sarah Middleton, reported feeling disoriented and said she thought she might have a seizure. When we arrived, she was alert but anxious. She told us she'd had seizures in the past but wasn't on medication. Said she could usually feel them coming."

Chimney chimed in. "We checked her vitals-blood pressure was slightly elevated but nothing alarming. Oxygen levels normal, no visible tremors, no slurred speech. She was hyperventilating a little, but that seemed more like anxiety than anything neurological."

Mason scribbled something down. "And she refused transport?"

Hen nodded. "We told her she could go to the hospital for further evaluation, but she insisted she'd be fine at home. She signed the AMA form."

Against Medical Advice. That meant they legally couldn't force her to go.

I bit my lip, my heart pounding. This didn't sound like negligence.

Mason, however, pressed on. "Did she mention anything about recent medication changes? Any injuries? Head trauma?"

"She said she hadn't hit her head recently," Chimney answered. "But she admitted she hadn't been sleeping well and was under a lot of stress."

Darden crossed his arms. "Did you check her pupils? Coordination?"

"Of course," Hen said, a little sharply. "Everything was normal."

There was a long pause. The 118 was defensive, but not in a way that screamed guilt. Just frustration.

Mason nodded slowly. "Okay. We're going to request her full medical records, but in the meantime-"

"She had a history of seizures," I blurted out.

Everyone turned to look at me, and my stomach dropped.

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Lydia?"

I swallowed hard. "Her sister told us she'd had seizures before. But she hadn't had one in over a year. No medication, no treatment plan. If she did have a seizure, it could've been sudden and severe."

Bobby sighed. "Then why are we here? It sounds like she passed from natural causes."

"We just need to be sure," Darden said.

Mason flipped the page in his notebook. "Is there any chance she could've taken something before you got there? Something that wouldn't show immediate symptoms?"

Hen frowned. "Like what?"

"Drugs, alcohol, even an over-the-counter med that could've triggered something."

Buck scoffed. "We were there for twenty minutes. We saw no signs of intoxication."

"I believe you," Mason said, though his tone was unreadable. "But we have to rule out everything."

I could feel the tension in the room. These people saved lives every day. And now we were making them reexamine a call that had ended in death.

I clenched my fists. "We just...need your help." My voice came out softer than I wanted. "If something doesn't add up, we have to find out what."

The room was silent for a long time.

Then Bobby nodded. "We understand, kid."

I exhaled, only realizing then that I'd been holding my breath.

********

Later, Back at the Office

Mason was pacing, flipping through his notes. "I don't like it."

Darden leaned against the desk. "You don't like what?"

Mason jabbed a finger at the report. "Everything says she should've been fine. No history of recent seizures, no injuries, no substances. She just...died."

I sat at my desk, rubbing my temples. "It happens. Seizures can be unpredictable."

"Or someone helped it along," Mason muttered.

Darden frowned. "There was no evidence of foul play."

Mason threw his pen onto the desk. "There's no evidence of anything. It's like she just dropped dead for no reason."

I sighed. "We're missing something."

Mason turned to me, his eyes sharp. "Exactly."

I leaned back in my chair, exhaustion weighing on me. The case wasn't making sense.

But if there was an answer, we had to find it.