Stranded

“God answered our prayers.”

Colleen nodded. “I’m sure the Amish folks prayed, as well.”

“Of course. Their faith is strong. In fact, they are a resilient community and a forgiving people. They’ll rebuild.”

“I hate to see dreams destroyed.”

Evelyn nodded knowingly. “If only we knew what the future would hold.”

The melancholy in her voice gave Colleen pause. Perhaps Evelyn had her own story to tell.

“Frank said there’s a bus station in Freemont.”

Evelyn raised her brow. “You’re in a hurry to get back to Atlanta?”

The question caught Colleen off guard. “As...as soon as possible.”

Mentally weighing her options, she realized none of them were good. She couldn’t fly without her driver’s license and airline identification. Both were in her purse, buried in her car.

She had planned on a fast trip to Freemont to gather the last bit of evidence she needed to send Trey to jail. Now Vivian was in the hospital, and Colleen was stranded in an area devastated by a tornado. To add to her situation, she was holed up with a law enforcement officer who made her uneasy.

A tap sounded at the entrance to her room. She turned to find Frank standing in the doorway. He was clean-shaven and dressed in his army combat uniform. Maybe it was the boots he wore or the digital print of the camouflage that made him seem bigger than life.

She needed to breathe, but the air got trapped in her lungs.

“I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up, sis.”

“The sandwich is on the counter.”

“You’re spoiling me.” Raising his hand, he waved to Colleen and then hurried toward the kitchen.

“The sandwich,” Evelyn reminded him.

“Got it,” he called before the front door slammed closed behind him.

“Why don’t you wash up and come back to the kitchen for something to eat.” Evelyn motioned toward the hallway.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“A bowl of soup might be good.”

The woman didn’t give up.

As if on cue, Colleen’s stomach growled, causing her to smile. “A cup of soup sounds good.”

Once Evelyn returned to the kitchen, Colleen pulled back the curtain in the bedroom and watched Frank lower the back hatch on his pickup truck. Duke hopped into the truck bed and barked as if eager to get under way.

Frank climbed behind the wheel. The sound of the engine filled the night. He turned on the headlights that flashed against the house and into the window, catching her in their glare.

She stepped away, hoping he hadn’t seen her. Much as she appreciated Evelyn’s hospitality and grateful though she was of having a place to stay, Colleen worried about Frank’s questions and the way he stared at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

After her sister’s death and her own struggle with the Atlanta police, Colleen wanted nothing more to do with law enforcement. Now she was seeking shelter in the very home of a man she should fear.

Only she didn’t fear Frank. Something else stirred within her when he was near. Unease, yes, but also a feeling she couldn’t identify that had her at odds with her present predicament. She needed to leave Freemont as soon as possible, but until she retrieved her purse and the photo card, she had no other choice but to stay with Frank and his sister.

Hopefully she wasn’t making another mistake she would live to regret.

* * *

A desire to protect her stirred deep within Frank when he saw Colleen standing at the window as he pulled his truck out of the drive. She had a haunting beauty with her big eyes and high cheekbones and the shock of red curls that seemed unwilling to be controlled.

Did her rebellious hair provide a glimpse into who Colleen really was? She tried to maintain a quiet reserve, yet perhaps a part of her longed to be free like the strands of hair that fell in disarray around her oval face. That disparity between who Colleen tried to be and whom he had caught a glimpse of when she wasn’t looking gave him pause.

Driving down the hill from his sister’s house, Frank thought of his own past, and the picture he had painted for his life, all with broad brushstrokes. At one time, he’d had it all and thought the future would provide only more positive moments to share with Audrey. He found out too late that she lived life on the surface and wasn’t willing to go beneath the false facade she had created.

Frank had thought she understood about sacrifice for a greater good. He’d realized his mistake when she left him, unwilling to be tied down to a wounded warrior who had to face a long, difficult recovery.

At this point, Frank didn’t know who he was. Too many things had changed that clouded the picture. He certainly wasn’t the same man as the cocky, sure-of-himself CID agent patrolling an area of Afghanistan where terrorists had been seen. Perhaps he had been too confident, too caught up in his own ability to recognize the danger.

Not that he could go back or undo what had happened. He had to move forward. Donning his uniform tonight was a positive step. The stiff fabric felt good when he’d slipped into his army combat uniform.

At least he looked like a soldier, even if he wasn’t sure about the future. Would he continue on with the military or put in his papers for discharge?

A decision he needed to make.

Headlights from a stream of military vehicles appeared in the distance when Frank parked at the barn. Two more ambulances from Freemont had arrived to transport the injured, and radio communication was up and running among the various search-and-rescue operations.

A fireman with wide shoulders and an equally wide neck approached Frank. “Thanks for helping with the relief effort.”

“How’s it look so far?”

“At least twelve Amish homes and barns have been destroyed. Close to twenty people have been identified as injured. No loss of life, but we’re still looking.”

“I heard Freemont had damage. A trailer park and some of the warehouses by the river.”

“Might be time to clean out that entire waterfront,” the fireman said, “but the mayor and town council will make that decision.”

Noting the approach of the convoy, Frank pointed to a grassy area between the Amish Craft Shoppe and the collapsed barn. “Can you get someone to direct the military personnel to that level area where they can set up their operations center?”

“Will do.” The fireman called two other men who used flares to direct the military vehicles into the clearing.

Frank saluted the captain who crawled from his Hummer.

“Thanks for getting here in a timely manner, sir.” Frank introduced himself. “I’m CID, currently on convalescent leave, but I reside in the area and wanted to offer my assistance.”

“Appreciate the help.” The captain shook Frank’s hand and then smiled at Duke. “Nice dog.”

“He’s a retired military working dog. Duke lost his sense of smell in an IED explosion, but that doesn’t stop him from helping out when he can.”

Frank passed on the information the fireman had shared about the damage and the injured.

“I’ve got engineers who will check the structural integrity of the homes still standing once we’re assured all the victims have been accounted for.” The captain pointed to a group of soldiers raising a tent. “We’re setting up a field medical unit to help with the injured. That way the ambulances can transport those needing more extensive medical care to the hospital.”

“The local fire and EMTs have a triage area you might want to check out, sir.”

“Thanks for the info. I’ll coordinate with them.”

The captain headed for the civilian ambulances just as Special Agent Colby Voss pulled to a stop in his own private vehicle, a green Chevy.

He climbed from his car and offered Frank a warm smile along with a solid handshake. Instead of a uniform, Colby wore slacks and a CID windbreaker. “I thought you were still on convalescent leave.”

“Another week, but I’m ready to get back to work.”

“Wilson will like hearing that. We’re short staffed as usual, and he’d welcome another special agent.”

Frank appreciated Colby’s optimism. “Did anyone notify you about Vivian Davis, a gunshot victim who got caught in the storm? She’s a military spouse. EMTs took her to the hospital on post.”

“The call could have come in while I was away from my desk. Do you have any details?”

“Only that she flagged down a driver at a picnic park farther south, saying she needed help. A shot rang out, the woman was hit. She and the driver escaped.”

“Did you question the victim?” Colby asked.

“Negative. She was slipping in and out of consciousness. EMTs needed to keep her alive.”

“I’ll notify CID Headquarters. What about the driver?”

“Colleen Brennan. She’s a flight attendant from Atlanta. Her vehicle is buried under rubble.” Frank pointed to the spot where the barn had once stood. “She won’t be driving home anytime soon. My sister has a spare bedroom. I invited her to stay the night. The local police don’t have time for anything except search and rescue, and I know Fort Rickman is probably equally as busy. I thought keeping an eye on her here might be a good idea, at least until we get through the next twenty-four hours or so.”

“Was she injured?”

“A slight concussion and some cuts and scrapes. Nothing too serious, although she was pretty shook up and not too sure about some details. I’m hoping she’ll be less confused and more willing to talk in the morning.” Frank pointed to the barn. “I’m planning to check out her car if you’re looking for something to do.”

“Sounds good, but I’ve got to call Becca. She left a message on my cell after seeing video footage about the storm on the nightly news. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll catch up to you.”

“The last remaining portion of the barn looks like it could easily collapse, so be careful. If you’ve got crime scene tape, I’ll cordon off the area.”

“Good idea. We don’t need any more injuries.” Colby opened his trunk and handed the yellow roll of tape to Frank.

He grabbed a Maglite from his truck and patted his leg for Duke. “Come on, boy.”

The two of them made their way to what remained of the barn. Frank heaved aside a number of boards and cleared space around the rear of Colleen’s vehicle before he opened the trunk.

Aiming the Maglite, Frank saw a carry-on bag with a plastic badge identifying Colleen’s airline.

“Let’s check up front,” he told Duke, after he had retrieved the bag and placed it on the ground.

The dog whined.

“What is it, boy?”

Duke climbed over the fallen boards and stopped at the passenger seat, where Vivian had lain earlier. Blood stained the upholstery.

“You’re upset the woman was injured.” Frank patted the dog’s flank. “I am, too. We need to find out who shot her and why.”

Bending, he felt under the seat. His fingers touched something leather. He pulled it free.

A woman’s purse.

He placed it on the seat and opened the clasp. Shining the light into the side pocket, he spied Vivian’s government ID card and driver’s license. Tissues, face powder and high-end sunglasses lay at the bottom.

Leaning down, he again groped his hand along the floorboard. This time, his fingers curled around a smartphone. He stood and studied the mobile device.

An iPhone with all the bells and whistles.

He hit the home button. A circle with an arrow in the middle of the screen indicated a video was primed to play.

Colleen claimed to have happened upon the distressed woman, but if the two had arranged to meet, the video might have been meant for Colleen to view.

Frank hit the arrow, and the footage rolled. A man sat at a booth with Vivian sitting across from him. From the angle, the camera appeared to have been upright on the table, perhaps in a front pocket of her purse with the camera lens facing out.

The guy didn’t seem to know he was being recorded.

The audio was sketchy. Frank turned up the volume.

“You brought the package?” The man’s voice.

“Relax, Trey. I don’t go back on my word.”

Trey?

She slipped a rectangular object across the table. The man nervously glanced over his shoulder.

Frank stopped the video. His gut tightened. He’d been in law enforcement long enough to know what the small package, shrink-wrapped and vacuum sealed in plastic, probably contained.

Snow, Flake, Big C.

Also known as cocaine.

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