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conscious.”
    “All right.”
    I walked back to the truck captain and shouted to be heard. “The rollover patient is stable but intoxicated.”
    He pointed at the black sedan. “So this patient on the bird first?”
    I nodded. “Yeah, I think we can take the rollover patient by ground.”
    Back at the black sedan I noticed Jeff’s color had deteriorated from pale to ashen. The firefighters worked to pry the driver’s door open.
    I really didn’t want a second death on this accident. First one wasn’t my fault. This one . . .
    We needed to get moving.
    At the passenger side I pulled out a bag of normal saline and spiked it with IV tubing.
    The flight medic and flight nurse hopped out of the helicopter. Wearing white helmets, they carried bags and hunched beneath the rotors. It wasn’t until the nurse drew closer and pulled off her helmet that I recognized her.
    Naomi Foster.
    The AprisEvac engines idled down, and the fire captain gave Naomi a quick rundown on the patients. Naomi caught my eye and turned to her partner.
    I leaned in the passenger window and wrapped a tourniquet around Jeff’s right arm. He looked to be in decent shape. He’d normally sport ropes for veins. But with his blood pressure tanking, nothing was visible. His body was trying to protect his core organs by shutting down peripheral circulation. I felt around for a vein in the antecubital space at the crook of his elbow. My fingertip found a faint rounded shape.
    A familiar female voice spoke behind me. “Can you get a fourteen in that?”
    I craned my neck, seeing only Naomi’s torso through the window, her flight suit following her curves, name and title stitched into the fabric . She bent down and smiled, sandy chin-length hair dangling, eyes still the same striking blue.
    I kept my finger on the vein. “I’ve got it by feel only. Better give me an eighteen gauge.”
    She raised and lowered her eyebrows, went to the roof, and returned with the smaller needle. She handed it inside with a wry curve to her lips.
    She was going to shame me into a larger-bore catheter. The bigger the IV needle, the faster we could flow fluid into Jeff’s body and improve his blood pressure. But also the more difficult of a stick.
    “All right,” I said. “Fine. Give me a sixteen.”
    A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She opened her other hand to reveal the larger sixteen-gauge.
    I prepped the IV site on Jeff’s arm with an alcohol swab, pulled his skin taut with my thumb, and inserted the needle. A flash of blood confirmed my placement. I popped off the tourniquet and held pressure above the catheter.
    “Sharp out.”
    Naomi held a red needle container for me.
    “Thanks.”
    I hooked up the IV line.
    Naomi lifted the saline bag and spun the white wheel on the tubing. “Good flow. Running wide open.”
    The car rocked with a loud metallic pop. The driver’s door creaked open. Another firefighter moved in to cut the hinges.
    The truck captain walked up. “We’re going to take the roof.”
    “Got it.” I took the IV bag from Naomi and squeezed it under the passenger-side headrest. “Hang in there, Jeff. This fluid’ll get your blood pressure up. They’re going to cut off the roof and get that dash off your legs. All right?”
    He kept his eyes closed. “Okay.”
    I picked up the first-out bag and backed out of the way. Firefighters went to work on the roof posts.
    Naomi zipped up her medical bag on the roof and slung it over her shoulder. She took her helmet in hand and stood back beside me. “It’s been a while, Trestle.”
    How long had it been? I didn’t think we’d spoken for more than five minutes at a time over the past four years. “Where have you been flying out of these days?”
    “Mostly Truckee.”
    “Ah.” I glanced over at Bones. It looked as if he and the firemen almost had their patient out. “You like it up there?”
    “It’s pretty. But slow. I’m actually back here at County now.” She tucked strands of hair