Suicide Serial Read Online Free PDF Page B

neck where he had been hung. There was an indention about one inch wide all the way around it. Just touching the area was excruciating, like he had been burned.
     
    In the distance they could start to hear approaching sirens. Finally, help was arriving. Jake tucked his weapon into his pants and staggered over to open the front door so the police would know that entry was safe. His hand touched the door knob and he passed out again.
     
    Within moments, sirens and flashing strobe lights permeated every square inch of Detective Jake Harris’ home.
     
    Paramedics put some gauze on the cut on Jake’s stomach, wrapped his head in bandages, put an uncomfortable plastic collar around his neck, and put him on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance. They flew across the dark, empty streets with sirens blaring, driving at top speed. The ride was bumpy. When he regained consciousness, Jake looked out the windows at the houses as the ambulance flew by them. He was relieved that the police had arrived, and now his children and wife were en route to the hospital in a marked cruiser in front of the ambulance.
     
    Finally arriving at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled him into the first available room. A team of doctors and nurses stood ready, prepared to treat any injury. They were used to getting the occasional gunshot wound or stabbing, but all of them put their game faces on whenever a police officer or rescue worker was injured.
     
    The nurses and doctors quickly checked him over for wounds, and collectively breathed a sigh of relief when it became clear he had escaped from serious harm. Jake tried his best to suppress a shout as nurses cleaned the knife wound on his side with antiseptic. A young doctor came in, injected something that felt like it numbed the area a bit, and proceeded to hastily stitch him up. Jake was transported to radiology and the technicians there slid him over to the CT scanner. The exam didn’t take long, and he was quickly brought back to his previous ER room.
     
    The young doctor that had sewn Jake up before entered the room with a clipboard and began flipping through his chart. “Well, Jake, looks like you got banged up pretty good, but you’re going to be just fine,” the glasses-clad young doctor said in a very comforting way. “That cut on your side wasn’t very deep, although I must say you will definitely have a scar there. The CT scan on your head revealed no fractures or internal bleeding, but there is significant soft tissue swelling and a moderate concussion.”
     
    Heather spoke up, “What about his neck doctor? I know it hurts, but will it leave any…permanent damage?”
     
    The doctor lifted the bandages on Jake’s neck and took a closer look at the ugly purple scars.
     
    “Hmmm. Well, I think that these may leave a scar too, but I am doubtful that he will have any permanent or lasting physical damage from any of the injuries he has sustained. It will probably be difficult and uncomfortable to talk and eat for a while though.”
     
    Jake squirmed around in his bed. He hated hospitals. This was one of the last places on earth he wanted to be right now. All he could think about was slapping the handcuffs on the person responsible for this. The doctor carefully flipped through his little chart and noted a few more things before turning to leave.
     
    “Oh, and Jake, we noticed on admission you had a bit of a fever. We did a quick test, and it looks like you got the flu, buddy. Haven’t you ever heard of a flu shot? I hear they give them away for free down at the precinct now.”
     
    The doctor smiled and walked out of the room, leaving Jake and Heather alone for a moment.
     
    Heather asked, “Jake, what is going on? Who would have done something like this to you?” Jake thought for a moment. Really, it could be just about anyone that he helped put behind bars.
     
    That was a lot of people over the years. Some of them had a similar physical appearance as the suicide