DETECTING DEADLY THREATS
CHAPTER ONE
A vibration passed through the ground beneath Lauren Hollander’s feet.
She paused, letting her Canon 35-millimeter camera dangle from its strap around her neck. What she’d felt was similar to the vibration created with a heavy truck passing by.
But there weren’t any trucks in the area.
She glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed. Early afternoon on a Tuesday, only a couple handfuls of people wandered the park.
She shrugged and raised her camera again. Having grown up in Ridgely, Tennessee, she was no stranger to earthquakes—the idea of them, if not the actual experience. The New Madrid was the most active seismic zone east of the Rocky Mountains. She’d learned all about it in school.
But ninth grade was a long time ago. And during her almost thirty years, she could count on one hand the number of quakes that had been strong enough to feel.
A pair of blue jays flew toward the fountain at the other end of the small park. She aimed the camera and adjusted the settings for a longer view. A little boy stood on the short wall that surrounded the fountain, his mother’s arms around him. Trees formed a striking backdrop to the scene with their vibrant displays of orange and yellow and red.
As Lauren moved closer, sounds of childish laughter reached her. She snapped several pictures, walking in a wide arc until she could capture the little boy’s face. Once satisfied, she removed the lens, slid it into its compartment in her bag and put away the camera. She’d already eaten her sandwich and apple and had thrown away the trash. Now her lunch break was over. Not that she couldn’t extend it if she wanted to. She was the boss.
She crossed the street that ran between the park and her jewelry store as a familiar Buick LeSabre pulled into a parking space along the roadside. Although the late-October morning had started out chilly, the sun had warmed everything nicely. Now gray clouds were overtaking that sunshine.
Jerry Beckham stepped from the LeSabre and hurried toward the front landing. “Let me get the door for you, young lady.”
Instead of reaching for the handle, she waited under the mansard with its gold letters identifying the establishment as Holland’s Custom Jewelers.
When Dave Holland retired a year ago and agreed to carry the mortgage for her to buy the store, she hadn’t bothered to change the name. Holland was close enough to Hollander. Even the “custom” part of the name fit, thanks to Dave’s willingness to teach her every part of the business.
Jerry opened the door and glanced up at the sky. “Looks like we’re gonna get rain.”
“We need it.” She led him inside and circled around behind the display cabinet where Abby, the store’s part-time help, waited.
Abby handed her a sheet torn from the message pad. “The Whitmers’ twenty-fifth anniversary is coming up, and Jack wants you to create a custom necklace for Kathryn.”
“Awesome.” Designing and creating pieces to customers’ specifications was what she enjoyed the most, next to the personal interactions with people she’d known all her life. The joys of living in a small town.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Abby stepped from behind the counter. On her way to the door, she passed the old man with a greeting and pat on the shoulder. Tuesdays and Fridays were her half days. The schedule worked well with her college classes and kept Lauren from having to pay a full-time salary.
After setting her camera bag on the small table against the wall, she moved to the counter and pushed a porcelain plate toward Jerry. While she’d been at the park, Abby had restocked it. “Here, have a muffin.”
A smile lit his face, deepening the creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Making two dozen mini muffins had been part of her morning routine for the past several years.
Jerry took a bite and rested a forearm on the glass surface. “Are you staying busy?”
“Just the usual. Last weekend, I took my girls camping.”
Her “girls” were the six regular attendees of her church’s Kids Club, third through sixth grade. She loved that age group. Actually, she loved kids, period, had always thought she’d have several of her own. Sometimes life threw unexpected curveballs.
Jerry nodded. “Sounds like fun, although I’m about fifty years past the age of wanting to chase kids around.” He grew serious. “How’s that brother of yours doing?”
He asked the question about once a month. It was more about her welfare than her brother’s.
“Lyle’s doing well.” After his last prison term, he’d finally gotten his act together and become a productive member of society. “Still has his job at Precision Auto Repair.”
Jerry nodded. “He’s been there, what, five months?”
“Six.” That was a record for him. Nine months out of jail was a record, too.
“He still living with you?”
“Nope. Got an apartment in town three weeks ago.”
She could have gotten him out of her house sooner if she’d floated him a loan for the first month’s rent and security deposit. Knowing she’d never see the money again, she’d opted to make him pay her room and board and put back half of his paycheck every week until he had enough to make it on his own.
“Good. I hated to see him taking advantage of you.”
“Trust me, he didn’t. He had chores and a whole bucketload of rules to follow.” One of those rules was that he had to be home by 9:00 p.m., unless he got approval from her. The closest he’d ever come to complaining was once saying he was the only twenty-six-year-old guy in the state with a curfew.
She continued. “That supervision and stability was what he needed. So was getting him away from Memphis.”
The day he’d turned eighteen, Lyle had hightailed it out of Ridgely to live it up in the big city. Worst decision ever. Not that he hadn’t been in trouble before. But the people he’d gotten hooked up with in the city had made the troublemakers of Ridgely look like choirboys.
“I hope you’re right.”
His tone held more doubt than hope. He wasn’t the only one who’d expressed concern. But she hadn’t gone into this blind. Her brother was an expert at conning people. This time he actually seemed sincere.
“Getting almost beaten to death was a turning point for him.” A group of inmates had jumped him. She’d gone to see him a week later and hardly recognized him. “He says he’s really changed.”
Jerry frowned. “You’ve heard that before.”
Yeah, she had, at least a dozen times. “It’s different this time. That experience scared him straight. He just needed a chance to make a fresh start, away from all the negative influences. I couldn’t turn my back on him.”
“He’s not your responsibility anymore.”
No, technically, he wasn’t. But old habits were hard to break, and she couldn’t stop feeling that she, in fact, was her brother’s keeper.
She tilted her head to one side. “What’s bringing this on?” He’d always been concerned about her helping Lyle, but now he seemed outright worried.
“I don’t know.” He frowned, and his gaze dipped to the floor. Yeah, he did know. He just didn’t want to say anything.
“Tell me.”
He heaved a sigh. “I was going into Family Dollar last night as he was leaving. He had a busted lip and some bruises on his face. When I asked him what happened, he said he fell, hit his face on a railing.”
A knot of uneasiness settled in her stomach. When she’d seen Lyle two days ago, he’d been fine. Had he gotten involved with men running drugs again and double-crossed them? Or had his past activities followed him from Memphis?
He shrugged. “Maybe that’s what really happened. But be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m keeping my eyes open.” Time for a change in subject. “What have you been up to since I saw you last?”
“I planted some fall annuals in Ethel’s window boxes.” He shook his head, sadness filling his gray-blue eyes. “That woman sure loved her flowers.”
Lauren rested a hand on his forearm. “I know you miss her.”
After a few more minutes of chitchat, Jerry pushed himself away from the counter. “Well, I have a doctor’s appointment. Gotta keep this ol’ ticker going.”
She looked out the front window. The sky was even darker now. “You’ll have to hurry if you’re going to beat the rain.”
She watched him walk out and head toward the gray Buick. He’d been a regular customer for years, buying a small piece for every major and minor holiday. Several months ago, he’d lost his Ethel after fifty-three years of marriage. No longer a regular customer, he was now just a regular visitor. Some said he came for the muffins. Lauren knew better. He came for the conversation, that sense of connecting with another caring human being.
That was okay. The store wasn’t just her livelihood. It was her life. It paid the bills, but it also satisfied her need to nurture and care for others. She could almost convince herself that it made a good substitute for the family she’d never have.
Lauren eased into a chair at the small table against the wall and pulled her camera from its bag. The laptop sitting there still had the cable connected. She plugged the other end into the port on her camera. With a few mouse clicks, the photos she’d taken began uploading to the cloud. While her computer did its thing, she turned back the cover on the spiral-bound notebook that lay in the middle of the table.
Yesterday, she’d met with a man who lived in nearby Tiptonville. He’d wanted a necklace designed for his wife, something that incorporated her love of music with her love for her children. After meeting with Jack Whitmer this afternoon, she’d likely have another piece to design.
She picked up a pencil and began to sketch. Maybe a wavy staff with three half notes, their heads made up by the birthstones of each of her children. The necklace was to be a Christmas gift, so she had almost two months to design something the customer liked and create the piece.
After sketching some other ideas, she raised both arms overhead in a stretch and shifted her gaze to the front window. The rain had come. It was now blowing against the glass, running down in sheets. She hoped Jerry had made it inside his doctor’s office before the sky had opened up.
She stood and twisted side to side before walking around the counter to look out the front window. If the rain continued, she wouldn’t have any more customers today. Someone would have to be desperate to venture out in this.
As she watched, a figure passed in front of the window. He was hunched over, face tilted downward, umbrella held so low it rested against the back of his head. Moments later, he swung open the door and stepped inside. Water dripped from his rain jacket, puddling on her hardwood floor.
“Can I help you?”
Without moving the umbrella or lifting his head, he turned slowly toward her, reaching under the yellow rain slicker. A sense of unease swept through her, and she took two steps back. In one smooth motion, he raised his head and swept aside the umbrella. A knit ski mask covered his face and hair. The next moment, she was staring down the barrel of a pistol.
Her heart stuttered, then pounded out a frenzied rhythm. What was she supposed to do? She’d never been held up before, hadn’t even considered it in the safe, little town of Ridgely.
“You can have all my money.” She moved toward the end of the counter, ready to circle behind and empty the cash register. Would it be enough to satisfy him? Most of her customers paid with credit cards. A small handful wrote checks.
“Stop!” The sharp tone brought her to an instant halt. “I don’t want your money.”
She turned to face him. “Jewelry?”
God, please let him be here for the jewelry. Because the other possibility was more frightening—that whoever had roughed up her brother had come to exact retribution on her, too.
He closed the distance between them in three swift steps. The next moment, he wrapped her upper arm in a viselike grip. She was right. He hadn’t come to rob her. He’d come to hurt her.
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything here.” She gave her arm a tug in an attempt to move toward the counter.
His grip tightened more, sending needlelike pulses down her arm and into her fingers. “You’re coming with me.”
Her brain shut down. She couldn’t move. For several moments, she forgot to breathe.
God, please send someone. She hesitated. No, don’t! Anyone who walked into the store would likely end up dead. If Lyle was the reason the man was here, this was her battle and hers alone. Jerry was right. She should never have brought him home.
The man pulled her toward the door. She resisted with all of her strength. He hardly seemed to notice. Though he was only two or three inches taller than her five-foot-five, he was at least double her weight.
She couldn’t let him drag her out of there without a fight.
She tightened her left hand into a fist. Biting him or kneeing him in the groin was out of the question. She wasn’t in position to do either. She swung toward his face with all the speed and strength she could muster. He turned his head, making it a grazing blow.
He released a string of expletives and slung her to the floor. She landed hard on her back. Her lungs seized for several agonizing moments. Before she could recover, his booted foot connected hard with her side. Pain, ragged and sharp, wrapped its talons around her ribcage, driving an involuntary scream from her throat.
As he jerked her to her feet, the roar of the deluge outside filled the space. Someone had opened the door.
Her chest clenched. “Don’t come in! Call the police!”
The masked man spun in that direction, hauling her with him. The visitor stood in the open doorway. Lauren blinked several times. As expected, he was wearing a rain slicker and carrying an umbrella. He was also wearing a ski mask and holding a gun.
Two of them? No way would she make it out of this alive.
“Let her go.” The raspy command came from the doorway.
Her assailant tightened his grip on her arm. “You take orders from us, not the other way around.”
“I’m following your orders. I’m getting what I came for.” The words held a thick accent, one she couldn’t place. “This isn’t part of the deal. Leave her alone.”
“Get out of our way.”
The foreigner moved fully inside, letting the door shut behind him. “I’ll step aside for you, but you’re not taking her.”
Seconds ticked by as the two men stared each other down, each with his pistol trained on the other. Her captor jerked her in front of him. The same moment, a deafening crack pierced the semi silence. A sustained high-pitched ring started somewhere inside her head, pushing the muffled sound of the storm even farther away. The man with the accent clutched his side and dropped to his knees, groaning. He flopped to the side and rolled onto his back, legs drawn up.
The man who’d shot him hadn’t intended to kill him. At that distance, he could have hit him center mass with his eyes closed. Maybe he was teaching him a lesson while also sending a message to her.
Pulling her toward the door, he tried to slide the wounded man out of their way. When that didn’t work, he kicked him in the ribs. “Move it.”
The moans morphed to a squeal before toning back down. Regardless of where he’d been shot, he was losing blood fast and wouldn’t survive if he didn’t get help soon. Blood had soaked through his T-shirt and was pooling on the floor beside him. No matter how he was threatened, he wasn’t going to rise and crawl out of their way.
A small seed of hope sprouted. To move the injured man, her captor would have to release her. She glanced around. She’d never make it through the lobby and behind the counter without him shooting her in the back. Dashing out the front door wasn’t an option, either. But her alarm panel was only three feet away. Two sideways steps would put her within easy reach. He wouldn’t know what she had planned until it was too late.
He gave her a firm shake. “If you move, you’ll end up like your would-be protector.”
She gave a sharp nod. His gaze flicked past her toward the counter. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. What had he seen? Before she could ponder it further, he released her. When he bent over to grasp the wounded man by the arm, she crept toward the keypad. He gave him a tug. When she pressed the first number of the panic code, a beep sounded. The man stiffened. By the time he spun around, she had all four digits entered. A shrill squeal filled the space.
Without looking to see his reaction, she sprinted toward the counter. As she dove over its top, another shot rang out. Glass shattered. A second later, she hit the floor with a thud. The alarm continued its shrill squeal, setting her teeth on edge. The system was monitored, but the police would never get there in time.
Before she could scramble into the back room, the same vibration she’d felt in the park rippled through the floor. But it was much stronger. And it didn’t stop. Instead, it intensified.
More glass shattered. It was farther away than the counter, likely the front window. Walls begin to sway, and the building groaned. The sharp crack of spitting wood joined the crash of breaking glass. When she pushed herself to her feet, jagged pieces of the display cabinet had fallen onto the jewelry arranged inside. The wounded man lay two or three feet from the door. Her assailant was gone.
Creaks and groans surrounded her, building to a deafening roar, as if the building was in agony. She stumbled toward the back room, arms stretched out to the sides. If she could make it there and unlock the door, she could run to safety.
As the ground continued to shake, she lurched sideways, slamming her shoulder into the wall. Sharp, high-pitched creaks echoed above her. The ceiling was going to cave in, and with it, the entire apartment above. She couldn’t make it. She dove under the table where she’d sat earlier.
The crash she’d expected came, ear-splitting and terrifying beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Studs, floor joists and drywall piled up around her. The table’s metal legs buckled. Pain jolted her as one of them jabbed into her back, right below her rib cage. The table collapsed, pressing her body into the floor.
Her ears rang and her pulse went into overdrive. She couldn’t breathe. She was going to suffocate.
She struggled in a tiny breath, and her throat closed up, rebelling against the dust and other particles she’d tried to take in. An involuntary cough followed. She tried to shift position, but she couldn’t move. Every part of her body was pinned. Panic exploded inside.
She willed it to subside, forcing her chest and throat muscles to relax. She sucked in a slow, shallow breath, the sound a tight, painful squeak. Each breath that followed was a little easier.
The shaking had stopped. It was over. For now, anyway. What she’d felt at the park had been a foreshock. There were sure to be aftershocks, causing the weight pressing down on her to shift and maybe increase, crushing her.
No, she wouldn’t think about the what-ifs. She’d take it an hour at a time. Minute by minute, if she had to.
She’d survived. Someone would find her and get her out. People would know to look for her here. This was where she always was, every day except Sunday. She just had to hang on until rescue crews could get to her. Depending on the level of devastation, that could be as late as tomorrow, even the day after that.
Rainwater dripped in around her, seeping into her clothes. When the sun went down, the temperature would drop, and she’d be trapped in her dank, dark prison.
She prepared herself for hours of misery. Wet and cold. Without food and water. Chest too compressed to manage more than rapid, shallow breaths. A deep, agonizing ache in her back that felt more like organ than muscle or bone.
Waiting for rescue would test every bit of her endurance.
If she survived at all.
*
Zachery Kimball tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs in a rapid rhythm. Ahead of him, vehicles were at a dead standstill, sitting bumper to bumper. The view in his mirrors was similar. It looked as if everyone in Ridgely had a kid to pick up from Lara Kendall Elementary.
He’d been at his new job at R&K Metal Processing when the shaking had started. Like many of his coworkers, he had a home and family to check on. Home was a second-story apartment above a jewelry store. Family was his thirteen-year-old nephew. He’d acquired the nephew two months ago, the apartment just last week.
The nephew was safe. Zack had called the school before leaving work. He had the number programed in his phone. Until this afternoon, he hadn’t had to use it. What was amazing, though, was that the school hadn’t yet called him. Of course, William had been there only two days. Even he couldn’t get into trouble that quickly.
Over the next twenty minutes, vehicles crept forward in a start-and-stop pattern. As Zack drew closer to his destination, he looked over at the brick-and-stucco building with its green awnings, the words “Lara Kindall Elementary” above the double doors. He smiled. When William had learned that the school housed grades three through eight, he’d insisted that at thirteen, he was too cool to go to school with snotty-nosed third graders. Zack had advised him to bring it up at the next school board meeting, that he was sure the district would be happy to start a school just for the “cool” thirteen-year-olds. Sometimes, it was easy be patient with the boy since he’d lost his mother. Other times, it wasn’t. It all depended on how close Zack was to the end of his rope.
Finally, he was third in line for pickup. The rain had stopped. William stood talking with another boy who looked to be the same age. When he saw the red Mustang, he waved to his friend and strolled toward Zack. At least the kid thought his car was cool. So far, that was the only thing he’d done right.
William slung his pack into the back seat before sliding into the front. He didn’t look too shaken up. In fact, he almost looked happy. Maybe he was excited about getting out of school early.
“You doing all right?”
“I’m cool.”
“How bad was it?”
“Things started shaking. The teacher made us get under our desks. A window even busted out. It was lit.”
Lit? Apparently that was a good thing. Zack pulled away from the school, shaking his head. This was the first time since they’d left LA that William hadn’t been pouting or outright angry, much of it directed at Zack. He’d been at a loss as to what to do for him. Even counseling hadn’t helped. Leave it to William to need a natural disaster to knock the chip off his shoulder.
“Are we going home?”
“After we pick up Ranger.”
That had been his second call. Both his search and rescue dog and Jackie, the sitter, were fine. Once he picked up Ranger and checked his own place, he’d see if the dog’s skills could be used anywhere. The structures he’d passed had sustained varying amounts of damage. Two were completely destroyed, jagged roof sections sitting awkwardly on tangled jumbles of wood, plaster, electrical wire and plumbing. They’d both been older wood-framed homes.
The other structures seemed to have fared better. That would be comforting, except the building that housed his apartment, with Holland’s Custom Jewelers below, had to be close to a hundred years old.
The events of this afternoon still seemed surreal. He wasn’t in California anymore but had just experienced an earthquake. In Tennessee. How was that even possible?
When he pulled into Jackie’s driveway, she was sitting in the swing beneath the huge oak in her front yard. The black-and-tan coonhound lay at her feet. She approached Zack and passed off the leash. “I’ve already walked him, so he’s ready to go.”
“Thanks. I’ll be leaving him home with my nephew for a while. The school sustained minor damage, and classes are canceled until they have inspections done.” That was what they’d said when he’d called, along with promising to notify parents when classes resumed.
Zack unclipped Ranger’s leash and let him jump into the back. Then he headed toward his apartment, a short distance north of town. As he left the burg behind, his chest tightened. Flashing red and blue lit up the road in the distance, somewhere close to his apartment.
He drew closer, and his heart sank. The jewelry store and his apartment above were gone. He stared at the pile of debris, a lead weight filling his gut. He’d sold almost all his possessions before leaving LA, so everything he and William owned was in that mess.
He pulled off the road behind the Lake County Sheriff’s Office cruiser and looked through his driver’s-side window. What about his landlord downstairs? Had she made it out of the building, or was she trapped inside? He’d talked to her only a handful of times, twice on the phone inquiring about her ad for an apartment to rent and nailing down the details, and once for her to give him the key after he arrived. The other two times had been even more brief—a wave and “good morning” as she’d opened her store while he’d walked Ranger. Lauren’s sweet spirit had instantly drawn him to her, and he’d looked forward to getting better acquainted with her.
“Where are we gonna live?” William’s voice came from beside him—weak, all attitude stripped away. His jaw was slack, his eyebrows drawn together.
The boy’s forlorn expression beat Zack down even further. But before he could respond, the uncertainty fled his nephew’s features.
“We can go back to LA.”
“No.” His tone was sharper than he intended.
William crossed his arms and stared out the side window.
Zack softened his voice. “We’re not going back to LA.”
He’d love nothing more. If he could turn back the clock two months and five days, he’d do it. Back to before his sister’s fatal accident. Before he’d given up his manager position and yet another promised promotion. Before he’d driven two thousand miles cross-country with an angry, rebellious teenager who seemed to think his uncle was at the root of all his problems.
Turning back time wasn’t an option. All he could do was move forward. Keeping William in LA would have meant throwing away the boy’s future. That fact had become clear when he’d stolen a four-wheeler with some friends and gotten arrested. So Zack had dragged him from the only place he’d ever known, away from his no-good friends who were putting him on a fast track to self-destruction. And he’d taken him to a tiny town he’d never seen before, based solely on the rave reviews of a high school friend who’d grown up here.
Somehow, he would get the kid straightened out. He’d never faced a challenge he couldn’t conquer. He would come out on top this time, too. Except, over the past two months, he’d wondered more than once how he’d survive the next five years. There wouldn’t be any help forthcoming from the boy’s father. The man was in jail more than he was out. Currently, he was in.
Zack turned back to where the uniformed deputy was standing on the other side of the street, speaking into his radio. When he’d finished, Zack lowered his window.
“I live upstairs.” Maybe he should have said lived. “Do you know if the lady who owns the jewelry store got out?”
“I don’t think so. That’s her vehicle there.” He pointed toward a silver Jeep parked at the edge of the road that passed in front of the property. His face was creased with worry. He probably knew her. “I’ve called for help.”
“I have my dog with me.” He tilted his head toward the back seat. “He’s trained in search and rescue. We’d like to help.”
Relief flooded the deputy’s features. “Yes, please.”
Zack pulled off the road and exited his car. “Come, Ranger.”
The black-and-tan coonhound jumped out and looked up at him. Excitement rippled through his body, as if he instinctively knew he was about to do something important. This wasn’t their first search and rescue mission together. As volunteers with a couple of groups in California, they’d participated in several searches.
As usual, Ranger would work off leash. For the first time ever, he’d also be working without his vest. If it wasn’t eventually recovered, or was too damaged, Zack would order him another one.
He leaned down to look at his nephew still inside. “You can get out and watch. Just stay at a safe distance and don’t wander off.”
William gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
The words would have been encouraging if not for the sarcastic tone. As William exited the car, Zack glanced at the deputy’s nameplate.
“Deputy Rutherford, I’m Zack Kimball, and this is Ranger. He has a vest, but it’s somewhere in all that.” He pointed at the wreckage. The deputy would have to trust him on Ranger’s qualifications.
“Go ahead and have him do his thing.”
“If he alerts, can we get some equipment in here to help uncover victims?”
“My brother owns a construction company over in Tiptonville and has a crane. He’s on standby as we speak.”
“Great.”
Zack dropped to one knee in front of his dog, then slid his hands under his floppy ears to cup the brown face. “We’ve got a job to do. A nice lady’s in trouble, and we need you to find her.”
He straightened and held out an arm in front of him, index finger extended. “Seek.”
Ranger looked up at him, a question in his big brown eyes. Zack had seen it before, the transformation that took place the instant the vest went on, the change from man’s best friend to working dog.
“Yes, it’s time to work. Seek!”
Ranger’s hesitation lasted only a moment. He shot toward the wreckage and then gingerly made his way upward, boards shifting under his feet. Zack’s pulse picked up speed. Working around collapsed buildings was dangerous. A dog could break a leg or sustain other injuries.
While Zack watched, Ranger continued making his way over the jumble of boards and other debris, face dipped downward except for when he’d lift his head to sniff the air. William stood on the sidewalk, watching the dog also. He was at a safe distance, and wandering off didn’t seem to be crossing his mind.
Soon Ranger’s movements grew more animated. He pawed at a board, sniffing with even more vigor. Then he released a sharp bark and sat.
“He found someone.”
Cautious hope filled the deputy’s eyes. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He’d been doing this with Ranger long enough to know. “We need to get your brother and his guys out here with that crane. I’d put an ambulance on standby, too.”
“Absolutely.” He placed the calls and pocketed the phone. “They’re on their way.”
Zack looked up at Ranger. He was sitting atop the debris, stock-still, waiting to be released.
“Ranger, come.”
The dog descended as carefully as he’d gone up.
“Come here, boy.” He dropped to both knees and cupped his face again, scratching him under the ears and working his way down the furry neck. “You did so good.”
When he wrapped his arms around Ranger’s middle, the dog turned his head to plant a slurpy kiss on Zack’s cheek.
Zack laughed. “You’re such a good boy.”
He continued petting and praising the dog. Somewhere in the mess, alongside the vest, was a twisted rope with a ball attached to the end. After a search, whether or not Ranger was the one who’d found the missing person, Zack always rewarded him with a game of tug-of-war. Today’s reward would be lots of love and praise.
Fifteen minutes later, an engine’s deep rumble drifted to them. Soon it came into view—a huge truck with a crane mounted in its bed, lettering on the doors identifying it as belonging to Rutherford Contracting. Besides the driver, two other men were visible behind the windshield.
Zack put the dog in a down-stay as the man on the passenger’s side exited the truck. Deputy Rutherford introduced him as David, his brother. Zack pointed out the place where Ranger had alerted.
“We’re on it.” He jogged back to where his employees waited. Soon the truck was in position and the men were hard at work, one operating the crane and David and his other employee on the ground assisting.
Zack watched the men remove rafters, beams and other debris from the pile, every muscle tense. One wrong move could cause the whole jumbled pile to shift and crush anyone trapped underneath. A quick glance at his nephew showed that he, too, was transfixed, unable to take his eyes off the scene unfolding in front of him.
The pile grew shorter as sections of wood and other materials were removed. Each pass with the crane opened a better path to the victim. As they worked, an ambulance arrived, and two paramedics exited and waited.
Finally, David bent over and called into the debris. From where Zack was standing, the rumble of the equipment drowned out the words.
After two more attempts, the deputy cupped his hands around his mouth. “Any response?”
“None. Whoever’s down there might be unconscious.”
Zack swallowed hard. At least the man didn’t voice the other possibility.
Several minutes passed while the men worked, the rumble of the truck engine and whir of the crane making conversation difficult.
David straightened again. “I see a hand.”
Zack released a pent-up breath. Soon they’d know her condition. If any customers had been in the store, he hoped everyone was in the same vicinity.
Now that some of the heavier items had been removed, David and the other man cleared boards away by hand.
David called out again. “Looks like it might be a man.”
A man? What about Lauren?
The two paramedics retrieved a stretcher from the back of the ambulance, and David waved them forward. “Come on up. We’ve almost got him uncovered.”
The paramedics made their way along the path that had been somewhat cleared for them. Then the four men worked together to finish extricating the victim.
David suddenly pivoted his face toward them. “Holy moly, he’s wearing a ski mask.” He looked back down and pushed another piece of debris aside. “There’s a gun here.”
Zack’s jaw dropped. Was Lauren being held up when the earthquake happened?
Deputy Rutherford raised a hand. “Don’t touch it.”
He hurried to his vehicle and approached with a pair of latex gloves and a plastic bag. When he returned to his car a few minutes later, the bag held a pistol. Soon the paramedics had the man on the stretcher. The front and side of his shirt was dark with what looked like blood. They removed the mask and one checked for a pulse. A half minute later, he shook his head.
Zack looked at the deputy, heart pounding. “Lauren’s still in there. I’ve got to get Ranger back up.”
“Go ahead.”
Zack again gave his dog the command to search. Ranger went back to work, and the paramedics made their way down with the stretcher. Instead of leaving, they put the deceased man in a body bag, radioed Dispatch for someone else to transport him and waited.
Ranger made a zigzag path, climbing higher. When a board shifted under his feet, he stumbled, then regained his footing. Several minutes passed with nothing. Maybe Lauren wasn’t even there. Maybe she’d run out the back door.
No, someone would have seen her. She would have let people know she was safe. And she would have called for help for the would-be robber. No, she was still inside.
Finally, Ranger displayed the same excitement he’d shown earlier. His face was tilted downward, his nose inches from the debris beneath him, head moving side to side.
Rutherford drew in a sharp breath. “He found something, right? Isn’t that what that means?”
Ranger barked and sat.
“That’s exactly what that means.”
Zack called his dog to him. After giving him lots of encouragement, he straightened to watch David and his men return to work. For the next hour, the action was a rerun of what they’d seen earlier. Shingles, roof decking and lumber came away, forming an ever-growing pile to the side. Some time ago, William had walked across the yard to sit with his back against a tree trunk.
David bent over, calling into the debris again. Judging from his demeanor, he didn’t get a response. Zack looked behind him. The clouds that had dumped so much rain earlier were piled up on the western horizon. The sun was behind them. In two or three hours, it would be dark. If they couldn’t get to her before then, would the men keep working?
He cast a glance at the deputy. Yes, they would keep working. Rutherford wouldn’t let them quit until they found her.
David called again, then straightened suddenly. “I got a response. It’s weak, but I definitely heard ‘help.’”
The deputy released a shout of celebration. Thirty minutes later, the paramedics were once again atop the collapsed building with their stretcher, pulling another victim from the wreckage. This one was alive. Silky blond hair flowed over the side of the stretcher. Rutherford released an audible sigh of relief.
The men’s trek down wasn’t smooth, and Lauren winced every time they jostled her. As they approached where he stood, her green eyes met his and she tried to smile. Small bits of debris were trapped in her hair, and several smudges marked her face, but she was still beautiful. “Sorry about your apartment.”
He fell in beside them. “Sorry about your store.”
“When I find my checkbook, I’ll refund your rent and security deposit.”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
She looked down at Ranger. “Did he help them find me?”
“He worked hard, but not as hard as those guys from Rutherford Contracting.”
“I’m sure Danny was instrumental in getting them here.”
Danny. Yeah, she and Rutherford knew each other.
The deputy had approached the other side of the stretcher. “Was anyone else in the store with you?”
“Yeah. Right before the earthquake, a guy came in wearing a ski mask and carrying a gun. Rather than robbing me, he tried to abduct me.” She closed her eyes, and a small shudder shook her shoulders. “Another man came in, also with a ski mask and gun. He wouldn’t let the first guy take me, so the first guy shot him.”
Rutherford pressed his lips together. “So, there were two men inside when the earthquake happened?”
Zack looked down at Ranger, ready to send him back up.
“No. The first guy took off. So only one was with me.” She hesitated, her gaze no longer meeting the deputy’s. “I hate to bring Lyle’s name into this, but Jerry Beckham saw him last night, and he looked as if he’d been beat up. Then this guy comes into my store today and tries to abduct me. I don’t know if the two events are connected, but I can’t help feel they are.”
She drew in a breath and winced. “Neither of the men who came in today was familiar. At least, I didn’t recognize their voices. The second guy had a Spanish accent, a little different from Mexican. I’m not sure where he was from.”
Rutherford’s eyes met Zack’s. They were probably thinking the same thing. The guy they pulled from the debris didn’t look any more Hispanic than the two of them did. Lauren probably knew him, and he’d been trying to throw her off with a fake accent.
She rolled her head to the side to glance at the contractors who appeared to be awaiting further instructions. “Did they get him out yet?”
“Yeah.”
“How is he?”
The deputy shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”
She pressed her lips together but didn’t respond.
After a nod to his brother, indicating they were finished there, Rutherford put a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “I’ll be up to see you when I finish my shift. Or I’ll make it tomorrow if it’s too late tonight. I have some more questions, but you need medical care.”
“Can you have units drive by and make sure no one tries to take off with my merchandise?”
“How about if I get a hold of a security company and have a guard posted. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here as long as I can.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m also getting a hold of hospital security, in case the first guy decides to try again.” He looked at the paramedics. “Where are you taking her?”
“Pemiscot.”
“Brian, guard her with your life.”
The paramedic gave him a sharp nod. “Yes, sir.”
Zack watched the men load her into the back of the ambulance. One climbed in with her while the other got behind the wheel. She’d likely receive any necessary emergency treatment on the way to the hospital.
Zack looked over at Rutherford, who was watching the ambulance leave. “Girlfriend?”
“Nah, man, more like a sister.”
Zack nodded, an odd sense of relief sweeping through him. What was that about? It wasn’t like any kind of romantic relationship would ever develop between him and his pretty landlord. Women avoided men with baggage. He had it in spades. His came in the form of a pint-sized kid with a boulder-sized attitude.
The deputy walked to his car and returned carrying a roll of yellow tape. “This won’t keep out anyone who really wants to get in, but I’m hoping the message ‘Police Line Do Not Cross’ will be a deterrent, along with the units that’ll be driving by.”
When Zack and William got into the Mustang, the clock on the dash said five forty-two. Zack keyed “Pemiscot Hospital” into the GPS on his phone. It was only thirty minutes away, on the other side of the Mississippi River separating Tennessee from Missouri. He really wanted to check on Lauren. If they didn’t keep her, she’d need a ride home. If she lived alone, he’d try to convince her to go somewhere else.
“What do you think of taking a trip to Missouri?”
“What’s in Missouri?”
“The hospital.”
William heaved sigh that said exactly what he thought of Zack’s idea. “After I sat here all afternoon, you expect me to sit for several more hours at the hospital?”
“I’m sure there’ll be a TV in the waiting room.”
“With some dumb show that I don’t even want to watch.” The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Get me a Nintendo Game Boy at Walmart, and I’ll sit wherever you want for as long as you want.”
William already had a video game console connected to Zack’s computer, something Zack had tried to monitor since the kid had come to live with him. Of course, that console was toast, along with his computer.
“Deal.” The poor kid had suffered yet another life-changing blow today. Giving him something to distract him was the least Zack could do.
“I want Final Fantasy Adventure and Legend of Zelda to go with it.”
“If they’re at Walmart, you’ll have them.
“Walmart and dinner before the hospital.”
“All right.” Hospital security would see to Lauren’s safety in the meantime.
“McDonald’s.”
“McDonald’s it is.” He shook his head. The kid was going to be a lawyer someday. If Zack could keep him out of trouble long enough to graduate.
Walmart, McDonald’s, then the hospital. By then, the doctors would have had time to run tests, and Lauren might have some answers about her condition.
In the meantime, her friend Rutherford would keep people from treasure hunting. The deputy had said she was like a sister to him. Good. At least Zack would be able to get to know his landlord better without ending up on the wrong side of local law enforcement.
Getting to know her better was exactly what he planned to do. He had no idea who this Lyle character was, but he’d apparently made some dangerous enemies.
And whatever his relationship with Lauren, she had somehow gotten sucked into a dangerous mess.