Читать книгу Colton First Responder - Linda O. Johnston - Страница 14

Savannah held open the cabin’s door and watched Grayson walk away along the uneven ground and through the trees in the glow of his large flashlight, heading essentially the direction from which she had come. Soon, she didn’t see any more signs of him.

She had a sudden urge to dive back inside, grab the small flashlight she’d found and leave this cabin, too.

To dash after Grayson? Only if she could feel certain he was genuine, that he was as nice as he’d seemed—and that he really believed in her innocence.

She had no reason to doubt him, except that this situation was so horrendous that she simply couldn’t—and didn’t—trust anyone.

Sure, he could have dragged her along with him now, called authorities who could take her into custody and been done with the situation, but he hadn’t.

That didn’t mean she didn’t need to worry about what came next. Would he really just turn up here tomorrow with supplies and a phone for her? Allow her to remain loose while the cops looked for her, potentially gathering more false evidence of her guilt? Assuming, of course, that an escaped fugitive remained high on their radar at the moment, despite the earthquake.

In any case, would Grayson help her as he’d promised?

She wasn’t stupid, though her marriage to Zane didn’t exactly show her to be a good judge of character—notwithstanding the fact that she’d had impetus from her dad, who had been impressed with Zane’s wealth, to be in that relationship. Partly thanks to him, she had convinced herself that she loved Zane, but in retrospect she wasn’t sure how much she had really cared.

But what was her best alternative for staying here? Running from the cabin and going the opposite direction to Grayson? With that small flashlight being nearly her only illumination, and damage to the ground and any other buildings she might come across, plus the possibility of more aftershocks? There’d be a lot of potential danger in that, at least if she didn’t wait till daylight.

“Okay,” she finally whispered to herself, backing into the cabin once more and closing the door. Locking it this time, at least—so maybe she would hear if someone showed up and attempted to get inside.

Meanwhile, she felt exhausted. She decided to go lie down on that inviting bed, allow herself to sleep—and hope that her subconscious would awaken her if anything happened or someone else showed up.

And tomorrow? Well, she really wanted to believe in Grayson and his honesty. He was one heck of a guy, sure, but she’d had enough of men. She genuinely believed that Zane had set up his supposed murder to ruin the rest of her life.

But Grayson? He was a first responder, so he at least cared about people, even strangers, on some level.

Turning, she picked up the flashlight, walked to the bed and sat down.

Grayson. Would she decide in the morning to wait here for him, see if he was as kind as he appeared to be? Whether he responded to her needs rather than the reality of who and what she currently was—an escaped prison inmate?

She would see how she felt. She hadn’t harmed anyone to allow herself to escape, though she was certainly happy for her freedom.

But what would she do next? How could she possibly look for Zane or any clues that would prove she was right, that he’d framed her and that he was still alive?

It might help if she had that burner phone Grayson and she had discussed.

And if he did turn up here tomorrow with the supplies he’d promised, including that phone, she would feel a lot more comfortable trusting him.

For now? She didn’t want to wear out the flashlight batteries, so after she turned the sheets over and lay down on the bed—not particularly comfortable, but at least it had a pillow with a case she turned inside out—she shut the light off, then closed her eyes.

“Good night, Grayson,” she whispered with a small smile, recognizing the irony in her words and current attitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when all my worrying about your truthfulness will be over.”

She hoped.

The next morning, Grayson awoke at the family ranch.

Now he sat at his wing’s kitchen table, more decorative and undoubtedly more expensive than the plain wood one at the cabin last night. He grabbed toast and coffee for breakfast, getting ready to meet the new day and learn more about how his employees had done yesterday. From what he’d grasped when he spoke with Norah, everyone had been out there helping people successfully. But he hadn’t spoken with any of them again afterward. He wanted confirmation today, as well as more details.

He also planned to check out what downtown Mustang Valley looked like after the quake, and do a shopping expedition there, as well.

Then—well, then, he would have the pleasure of going to see Savannah again. Lovely Savannah, who claimed she had been set up by her ex and falsely accused of murder. Very falsely.

He had thought about Savannah a lot last night after leaving her. Maybe he should just stay out of the whole thing, neither help her nor rat on her to the authorities. But—well, he liked her.

And he hated the idea that she was being framed by her ex, if that was true.

He’d gotten out of a bad relationship recently, too. But they’d both just walked away. His ex hadn’t plotted any revenge against him, and he hadn’t against her, either. That sounded so absurd in Savannah’s situation. But it could of course, be true.

Hell, he was a first responder. He helped people who needed it. Who deserved it. And he truly believed, at least for now, that included Savannah.

He would find out soon, he figured, if he had been duped by her, and she actually was a killer.

He took a sip of coffee from his mug with the FHFR logo and phone number on it.

That mind of his unsurprisingly kept going back to yesterday and the quake and its aftermath.

Once he’d left Savannah the previous night, he had returned to the place where he’d earlier found the damaged van and its dead occupant. All was gone now—except his own useful SUV.

Then he carefully drove along a couple of the mangled dirt roads to check out other fishing cabins besides the one Savannah was occupying, but they were empty, a good thing. And he’d seen no other evidence of people needing help, though quake damage was still evident.

He had considered stopping again on his way home to check on Savannah but had decided against it, since he was sure she was asleep by then. He doubted anyone else knew she was out here, and he intended to see her tomorrow anyway, while bringing the supplies he had promised her.

And tomorrow had arrived. Now that he was awake and preparing to start his day, he kept thinking about her. A fugitive. One he couldn’t get out of his mind. Was he nuts?

Maybe.

“Okay,” he muttered. Today was going to be undoubtedly interesting. He stood and put his empty plate in the metal kitchen sink but carried his remaining half mug of coffee.

He headed down the stairs after closing the door of his bedroom behind him and locking it.

He drove to the First Hand office.

When he arrived in the greeting area, he rapped once on each of their doors in order from the bottom of the steps—Pedro’s first, then Norah’s and Chad’s. He heard a low woof after that last knock and just smiled. Winchell, Chad’s K-9 companion, knew better than to bark here, even when on duty, but he was always alert.

In moments, the gang had joined him in the reception area. They were all present here at the office, so apparently no additional calls had come in after the ones he had heard about last night, and they’d already accomplished the searches they had needed to do immediately after the earthquake, depending on their individual expertise.

His employees greeted him with handshakes and pats on his back, as he did with them. “Good to see you all,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to your reports.”

“We want to hear yours, too, boss,” Pedro said.

There was a reception desk for greeting people who walked in off the street seeking help, against the far wall from the entry door. Plate glass windows circled the room—all intact, fortunately, after the quake, Grayson had noticed last night. The floor was laminate, and the walls beige drywall decorated with photos of successful rescue operations and waving people they had saved. Half a dozen blue upholstered Parsons chairs were arranged with their backs toward the windows, so the room’s occupants, if they spent any time there, could see one another.

And there were a couple of extra doors to offices that could be allocated to additional staff.

Grayson waved his bunch to the chairs so they could start their discussion. Once they were seated, he glanced beyond them to his view of the street. All seemed fine outside.

His mind returned to the damaged cabin where he had left Savannah. Hopefully she remained okay—and there.

“Okay, who’s first?” Grayson asked, putting that behind him for now and looking at Norah.

“You, chief,” she said.

“Nope. I’m last. So tell me your experiences with the quake and after.”

Norah didn’t argue but leaned forward in her chair. Before joining First Hand, she had worked for the City of Phoenix as an EMT but always crowed about how she’d run right to Mustang Valley when she heard of Grayson’s start-up of a private first responder company a while back. She was well trained and a certified expert in emergency medical techniques, and was doing a great job with FH. She was thin yet very strong, and she kept her light brown hair in a style that framed her face.

Most important? With her ongoing and always increasing EMT skills, she was excellent at helping to save lives.

“I was right here when the quake hit.” She motioned toward her office door.

Since not too much around there was damaged, she had hurriedly driven to Mustang Valley General Hospital. The staff there had immediately assigned her to ride in one of the ambulances, to assist the drivers and hospital EMTs.

“Six different locations, and we helped over a dozen people, although their injuries were of different severities. Some weren’t too bad off, but there were maybe four that probably wouldn’t have survived if we weren’t there.” Her grin totally lighted up her slender face, and Grayson smiled back.

“Great job,” he said, then turned toward Pedro. “Any fires?”

Pedro Perez had been a firefighter in Las Vegas—but he’d informed Grayson when he’d hired him that he was excited about the opportunity to come to Mustang Valley and be the premier firefighter for FHFR. Pedro was dark-haired, large and muscular.

“About five, across town. Only one was really bad, though. I heard about it in the news before heading there and helped the local fire department get it under control. They know me, of course, so they asked me to help with the rest. And after we got those out, I hung out with the gang at the station for a couple more hours just in case. I gathered that all the fires were electrical fires because the wiring in those buildings was badly damaged by the quake and aftershocks. And I remain on call now, too, with the department in case they learn of any other blazes.”

“Excellent,” Grayson said. They all then turned toward Chad and Winchell, his German shepherd. “So—what’s your story, both of you?”

Chad had been a K-9 cop with Tucson PD before coming to work for First Hand. He’d brought along his assistant Winchell, who was a certified search and rescue dog as well as a police K-9. He was moderate height and wore glasses, and always asked if Winch and he could do more.

“There were a few reports of break-ins across town in the area where the quake hit worst—you know, the shopping area where stores are plentiful but not especially elite. I got a call from one of the dispatchers at the police department, and Winch and I headed there. We actually nabbed a couple of guys who dared to try to loot some damaged stores—those SOBs. Fortunately, they were scared of Winch, so we were able to turn them over to the PD.”

Grayson intended to visit just such a shopping center soon, where he wouldn’t be recognized as a Colton by store owners and other shoppers. There he could hopefully find all the supplies and the cell phone he had promised Savannah.

For now, he stood and approached each of his employees, reaching out his hand to shake theirs. “You know, when I went into this, opening a private first responders’ outfit, I wondered not only if I could succeed, but if I would be able to find assistants who were okay working in the private sector but do as well, or better than, first responders working for the official departments. Well, damn it, I did great in choosing every one of you.”

“And we did great choosing you as our boss,” Norah responded.

Both of the guys vocally agreed.

“But we’re not done here,” Norah continued. “What did you find, Grayson?”

Grayson trusted these people with his life. And with other lives, those they worked so hard to save.

But did he dare mention he’d found Savannah?

Maybe eventually, especially if he wound up needing their help. Plus, if he was found out and there were any legal ramifications against him, his staff could be affected, too.

For now, he decided to be cautious. He sat back down and described finding the van and its deceased driver.

“Was there anyone in the back?” Chad asked—not surprising from a former cop.

“Apparently there had been at least one person there,” Grayson said, looking Chad in the other man’s dark brown eyes, which kind of resembled his dog’s. “But no one was in it when I got there, and though I looked around for a while to make sure no one was injured or otherwise needed my help, I didn’t discover anything or anyone that had to be taken care of or reported.” He’d phrased that in a way that remained sort of true, at least.

“Sad,” Pedro said, “but I gather there weren’t a whole lot of injuries or deaths due to the quake. A lot of property damage in some locations, though.”

“Like the older parts of town,” Grayson said, nodding. “I’m going to go take a walk around there soon and size up the damage—assuming no new information comes in requiring us to do any first responding right now. Meantime, I’d like each of you to contact the officials in your areas of expertise again just to confirm that all’s well for now, and to offer your services if needed, of course.”

FHFR received most of its funding from the public departments they assisted, being paid a general retainer and getting more each time they helped out.

And when needed, Grayson supplemented his company’s finances with his own money received as a Colton.

He always made sure to pay his excellent employees well.

“Yes, sir,” Chad said, rising and saluting as if Grayson was his superior officer—which he was, in a way. Grayson, grinning, saluted back, and his smile grew even wider as Winchell held out his paw for a shake.

Grayson wanted to make a couple of calls, too, to his major local contacts—in case he or his people were needed now, so he walked up the stairs to the second floor to where his own office was.

But he looked forward to heading soon to the other side of town.

First, though, he decided to check the news on his computer. He wanted to see what the local media said about the quake and the havoc it had caused.

And anything about the destroyed van and its driver...and the passenger who had disappeared.

Sure enough, although most of the news was about the quake itself, the crushed van and the death of Ari, its driver, was out there, too.

Grayson turned on the sound on his computer and listened to a couple of those reports.

They all ended with the fact that the female prisoner being transported from court back to the local prison had apparently escaped.

The authorities suspected that the passenger, Savannah Oliver, had killed the driver so she could flee. Her handcuffs had been found beside the destroyed van, after all.

Oh boy, Grayson thought. The idea hadn’t crossed his mind, since he had seen Ari and the van and the tree that had caused the driver’s death. But not everyone had. And the photos on his phone wouldn’t necessarily do away with the suspicion.

What would Savannah think of these additional accusations against her?

He felt certain he would soon find out.