Chapter 9: Sirens on the Private Drive
The sharp, sudden spike in Arthur's heart monitor shattered the quiet stillness of the conservatory before I could even take the brass key from his hand. His breath hitched, his chest heaving under the wool blanket as an ashen gray pallor swept rapidly across his skin. His eyes widened in sudden, terrifying disorientation, and his hand dropped limply against the arm of the wheelchair.
"Arthur—look at me," I said, my professional calm instantly taking over as I pressed two fingers against his racing, irregular pulse. "Stay with me. Don't fight the breath."
I spun the wheelchair around, wheeling him at a dead run down the long, carpeted corridor toward the main foyer where the emergency oxygen tank was stationed. Just as I reached the base of the grand staircase, the double doors of the study flew open, and Julian stepped out into the hall, his mobile phone still pressed to his ear. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he saw Arthur gasping for air.
"What in God's name is happening here?" Julian demanded, lowering his phone as he strode toward us. "What did you do to him?"
"He's having an acute ischemic event," I snapped, my voice cutting through his accusation with absolute authority. "Step aside, Julian. I need the oxygen unit now, or he won't survive the next five minutes."
"You're not calling an ambulance," Julian said, planting himself directly in front of the foyer doors, his face hardening into a mask of cold fury. "You're not turning my uncle's medical emergency into a public spectacle for the local paramedics to gossip about. Take him back to his room. I'll have our private physician look at him in the morning."
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"Move out of my way," I said, my voice dropping an octave as I reached past him and grabbed the heavy silver call button on the wall, pressing it down and holding it until the loud, continuous security alarm began to blare through the estate. "The county emergency line is already linked to this system. The ambulance is four minutes out, whether you want them here or not."
Julian lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist, but before his fingers could close around my arm, the heavy front iron gates outside swung wide, and the sharp, piercing wail of approaching county sirens cut through the rainy night air, painting the wood-paneled walls in flashing red and blue light.
