Chapter 3 - The Cold Reality
"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher’s calm, practiced voice filled the quiet cabin of the Bentley.
Emma held the large phone with both hands, pressing it tight against her ear. "A man is asleep in his car on Oak Street. He won't wake up and his face is blue."
"Sweetheart, calm down. What is your name?"
"Emma. Emma Hayes. We are near the big bakery. A blue car. Please hurry, he's making a strange noise."
"I have your location through the vehicle's GPS, Emma. An ambulance is four blocks away. Are you alone with him?"
"Yes," Emma whispered, reaching out with her small hand to touch Maxwell Sterling’s sleeve. His fingers were ice-cold. "He's really cold."
"Listen to me carefully, Emma. Is his chest rising and falling?"
Emma leaned in close, watching the dark wool of the man's coat. "A little bit. Very small."
"Keep him tilted back, sweetie. Don't move him. The paramedics are turning onto your street right now."
Through the frosted windshield, Emma saw the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the limestone facades of the townhomes. A siren gave a short, sharp yelp as the heavy yellow emergency vehicle pulled up directly behind the Bentley.
Two paramedics tumbled out of the back, carrying heavy red equipment bags.
"Over here!" Emma yelled, standing in the open doorway of the luxury car, waving her pink coat sleeve wildly in the flashing light.
The lead paramedic, a tall woman with dark hair tied in a tight ponytail, rushed up to the driver's side. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene: a multi-millionaire slumped in a two-hundred-thousand-dollar automobile, saved from a rolling accident by a tiny girl with peeling boots holding a cracked phone.
"Good job, kiddo," the paramedic said quickly, gently hauling Emma out of the vehicle and placing her feet safely on the snow-covered sidewalk. "Step back for a second, let us work."
They worked with terrifying speed. Snapping open the man's collar, attaching suction pads, checking pupils with a small flashlight.
"Ventricular fibrillation," the male paramedic called out. "He went into cardiac arrest while driving. If this car had hit the intersection..."
"He was in park," the female paramedic said, glance back at Emma with profound respect in her eyes. "The kid put the gear in park and pulled the emergency brake. She kept his airway open."
A second police car pulled up, its lights painting the falling snow in brilliant shades of violet and crimson. An officer stepped out, looking around until his eyes landed on Emma, who was standing near the curb, shivering violently now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade.
"Hey there, little one," the officer said gently, kneeling down in the slush beside her. "Are you alright?"
Emma nodded, her teeth chattering. "I... I just wanted him to stop the horn."
"Where are your parents?"
Emma reached into her coat pocket and handed him the laminated index card. "My dad is at the river. He's pouring concrete."
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The officer looked at the card, then at the ambulance as the paramedics wheeled Maxwell Sterling away on a gurney, a plastic mask covering his face, a machine rhythmically pumping air into his lungs.
"Come on," the officer said, opening the back door of his heated cruiser. "Let's go get your dad."
