Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

straightforward procedure. Maura and I both know the anatomy.”
    “But he’ll be moving around,” said Maura. “There could be a lot more blood loss. I don’t agree with this, Doug.”
    “The alternative is to sacrifice the limb.”
    “I think the limb is already a lost cause.”
    “Well, I don’t.” Doug turned back to Elaine. “We need to vote on this. Do we try to save his leg or not?”
    Elaine took a breath and nodded. “I guess I’m with you.”
    Of course she would be. Arlo was right. She always sides with Doug
.
    “Maura?” he asked.
    “You know what I think.”
    He glanced out the window. “We don’t have a lot of time. We’re losing our daylight and I’m not sure we’ll be able to see enough with the kerosene lamp.” He looked at Maura. “Elaine and I both vote to go ahead with this.”
    “You forgot a vote. There’s Arlo’s, and he made it pretty clear what he wants.”
    “He’s not competent to make any decisions right now.”
    “It’s
his
leg.”
    “And we can save it! But I need your help. Maura, I can’t do it without you.”
    “Dad?” Grace was standing in the kitchen doorway. “He doesn’t look so good.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’s not talking anymore. And he’s snoring really loud.”
    Doug nodded. “The drugs must have kicked in. Let’s get someinstruments boiling. And we’ll need needles. A spool of thread.” He looked at Maura. “Are you with me or not?”
    It doesn’t matter what I say, she thought. He’s going to do it anyway.
    “I’ll see what I can find,” she said.
    I T TOOK THEM an hour to collect and sterilize all the items they’d managed to scavenge. By then, the window admitted only a weak afternoon glow. They lit the kerosene lamp, and by the light of the hissing flame, Arlo’s eyes were sunken in shadow, as though his soft tissues were collapsing, his body consuming itself. Doug peeled back the blanket, releasing the sharp smell of the urine-saturated rug.
    The leg was as pale as a shank of cold meat.
    No amount of scrubbing could cleanse all the bacteria from their hands, but Doug and Maura tried anyway, lathering and rinsing until their skin was raw. Only then did Doug reach for the blade. It was a paring knife, the most delicate one they could find, and they had sharpened it before sterilizing. As he knelt over the leg, the first hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He glanced up at Maura.
    “Ready to release the tourniquet?” he said.
    “You haven’t tied off the artery yet,” said Elaine.
    “We need to identify which artery it is. And the only way is to see where he’s bleeding. You need to hold him still, Elaine. Because he’s going to wake up.” He glanced at Maura and nodded.
    She barely loosened the tourniquet and a spurt of blood exploded from the wound, splattering Doug’s cheek.
    “It’s the anterior tibial,” said Doug. “I’m sure of it.”
    “Tighten the belt!” Elaine said, panicking. “He’s bleeding too much!”
    Maura refastened the tourniquet and looked at Doug. He took a breath and began to cut.
    At the first slice of the knife, Arlo jolted awake with a scream.
    “Hold him! Hold him still!” Doug yelled.
    Arlo kept screaming, battling them away, the tendons on his neck so taut they looked ready to snap. Elaine wrestled his shoulders back to the floor, but she could not stop him from thrashing and kicking at his torturers. Maura tried to pin his thighs, but blood and sweat had made his bare skin slippery, so she threw her weight across his hips. Arlo’s scream rose to a shriek that penetrated straight to her bones, a shriek so piercing it felt as if the sound were coming from her own body, as if she were screaming as well. Doug said something, but she couldn’t hear him through that scream. Only when she glanced up did she see that he had set down the knife. He looked exhausted, his face gleaming with sweat even in that cold room.
    “It’s done,” he said. Rocking back on his knees, he wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “I think I got it.”
    Arlo gave an agonized sob. “Fuck you, Doug. Fuck all of you.”
    “Arlo, we had to do it,” said Doug. “Maura, loosen that tourniquet. Let’s see if we got the bleeding controlled.”
    Slowly Maura released the belt, half expecting to see another gush of blood. But there was no trickle, not even a slow ooze.
    Doug touched Arlo’s foot. “The skin’s still cool. But I think it’s starting to pink up.”
    She shook her