The Nitrogen Murder(20)

“The cops.” Tom gave a little bow, as if the idea impressed him. “Better be careful what you tell them. You don’t want them following you around forever.”

Dana rolled her eyes. What was that supposed to mean? She decided not to ask.

A voice rescued her from Tom. It came from a speaker high on the wall.

“Dana, come on back. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Julia Strega, and not a moment too soon.

“Gotta go, Tom.”



Dana took a seat opposite her boss. Outside Julia’s unadorned, metal-framed window was a bustling industrial district off University Avenue, a major thoroughfare in Berkeley The loud noises from trucks, heavy machinery, and crowds of loading-dock workers surprised Dana, and she realized she was seldom in the neighborhood during normal working hours.

“You’re all dressed up,” Julia said, folding back the cuffs of her Cal Bears sweatshirt. “For me?” Her voice still had the remnants of a cold or allergies.

Dana smiled. “I guess you haven’t seen me in a skirt since my job interview, right?”

For everyday reporting, Dana had a supervisor—Doreen, now on maternity leave—but Julia was also heavily involved in day-to-day operations, more than was usual for a company owner. Though it was still considered small compared to other ambulance companies in Alameda County, under Julia Valley Med had grown to nearly two hundred employees with all levels of EMT support from basic to full paramedic, with nurse-staffed critical care transportation.

Business was good, but nothing like what it would take to get a company so big so fast, and Dana figured Julia pumped a lot of her own money into it. Now she was talking about extending the business into other counties in the Bay Area. Julia had been hinting to Dana that it would be nice to have an experienced EMT transfer to a new operation in Contra Costa or San Mateo County.

“Let’s get to it,” Julia said in her no-nonsense way. She pulled a folder from the piles of papers on her desk and put on wire-rimmed half-glasses. “Getting old,” she muttered.

Dana felt she was supposed to contradict her boss—no, you’re not old—but in fact, Julia was old in Dana’s mind. At least as old as her dad, her very red hair notwithstanding. Julia was as trim as any of her EMTs, but there was no denying the deep wrinkles in her face. And her lipstick was starting to spread into the little crevices around her mouth.

“I have some forms here, so I’ll just run down this list of questions. It’s all routine,” Julia said, half of her words buried in the tissue she held to her nose.

Routine. The word bounced around Dana’s brain. Not quite.

Julia buzzed through a set of more or less factual questions, most of which she could have answered herself. How long had Dana been on the job? (Fourteen months.) Had she ever been involved in a critical incident? (Yes, one mass casualty on I-580, but nothing this personal.) Ever had CISD? (Critical incident stress debriefing. Yes, one session, after the I-580 MCI.) Did the current CI involve damage to the ambulance? (No, the ambulance came out alive.)

Dana had downloaded the Valley Med form from the Internet and checked all the boxes next to the stock questions. Then she typed in her own report with the particulars of the incident that took Tanisha’s life—the time of the call, the trip with the GSW vic, all the details that Dana had run through her mind over and over since Friday evening. Robin had offered to change the cartridge and print out the report while Dana got dressed, probably to make up for her bad behavior earlier.

“Here you go,” Dana said, handing the pages to Julia.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.” Julia leaned over the desk and offered Dana a sympathetic look. “Please take all the time you need to decompress, Dana. You know you’ll have to sign up for the CISD sessions?”

Dana nodded. She knew how it worked. The county participated in a national program for ES workers, in which severely stressful job-related incidents were discussed with peer counselors and mental health professionals. The death or serious injury of a coworker in the line of duty was high on the list. She’d be expected to show up at a meeting at least by tonight. Fortunately, she had a relaxing massage coming, too, thanks to Elaine.

“And you’re scheduled to see Dr. Barnett today?”

Another nod.

“Good. You know that seeing a counselor one-on-one is part of the comprehensive critical incident stress management system …”

“ … recommended for emergency services workers,” Dana finished. “I know the drill. I’m good to go.” She tried for a don’t-worry-about-me tone.