Although Carson had always wanted Wally to take over the family empire, Wally had no interest in running CB International. For many years, this decision had caused considerable tension between himself and his father, but from the very beginning, Skye had charmed Carson and made him understand his son’s point of view. Then when she’d become pregnant, the tough tycoon had become putty in her hands.
“Hi, Dad.” Skye’s greeting was perky. “You may have heard that this evening, Illinois was hit by some pretty bad tornadoes. Scumble River was one of the communities on the twister’s path, but so far there have been no fatalities or critical injuries reported.” She explained their situation, listened, then said, “Tonight we’ll be staying at Uncle Charlie’s motel. After that, I guess we’ll have to look for a house to rent until we can rebuild. It’s too bad Wally sold his bungalow last month or we could live there.”
At Skye’s long silence, Wally glanced up from the map he’d been studying.
When he raised his eyebrows at her, she covered the receiver and said, “Your dad wants to send us a huge motor coach to live in.”
“What!”
“He says we can park it near our house and it will be here by tomorrow night. He’ll arrange to buy it from a Chicagoland dealer and fly in a driver who will set it up for us.” She wrinkled her nose. “I always forget how rich he is. I know you don’t like taking too many gifts from him. Should I say no?”
Wally rubbed the back of his neck. He hated to accept, but he suspected there weren’t going to be many rental places available anywhere near Scumble River. And it didn’t seem right to take an apartment or house from someone else when they had another option.
“Go ahead and tell him we’ll take it, sugar.” Wally saw the relieved look in his wife’s eyes. “I’m sure the RV will be more comfortable than a lot of our other choices, and I don’t want you any more stressed than you already are.”
While Skye concluded her conversation with his dad, Wally radioed his officers with their assignments, then contacted Fire Chief Eaton to coordinate their efforts. The plan was to pair a cop with a firefighter or paramedic. As Skye had told Carson, so far, no serious casualties had been reported, but he suspected, in the long run, their luck wouldn’t hold out.
“Oh my gosh, Trixie. I’m so glad to hear your voice.” Skye’s cry of relief interrupted his thoughts. “Are you and Owen okay?”
Skye listened, then beamed and gave Wally a thumbs-up.
“How about your house?” She frowned and asked, “Can it be fixed?” She glanced at Wally and mouthed, “A good part of their roof was torn off.”
He grimaced.
“Owen thinks it can be repaired and he’s already tarping it?” Skye repeated, clearly for Wally’s benefit. “That’s great. It looks as if we’ll be building from the foundation up.” She listened, then asked, “Do you have a place to stay?”
Wally watched his wife’s expression as she listened to her friend.
After a second, she instructed, “Call Charlie immediately. Mom said out of his twelve cabins, only two are presently occupied and those folks are from out of town. He’s going to ask them to check out tomorrow so he has room for people displaced by the tornado. Get ahold of him and nab one of the vacant ones now.”
Once she disconnected, Skye looked at Wally and said, “Is there anyone else I should call?”
Wally scratched his chin and considered his wife’s lengthy family list. “Vince and Loretta?”
Skye paled and blinked back tears. Cursing himself, Wally shot to his feet and hurried around the desk.
“Dad’s trying to get to them,” Skye explained. “They aren’t answering their cells and the road is blocked.” She sniffed. “Mom is supposed to let me know as soon as Dad comes back with any news.”
Drawing Skye out of her chair, Wally wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “They’ll be okay. Loretta will have made Vince get in their safe room.”
“Yeah.” Skye gave him a watery smile. “No guy will mess with a frantic pregnant woman.” She arched her brow at Wally. “Right?”
“Absolutely,” Wally murmured into her ear, then kissed down her neck.
Suddenly, the office door slammed open and someone shouted, “We don’t pay you to make out with your wife!”
Skye jumped back. Wally looked at the man lumbering over the threshold and growled. Just what they needed, Mayor Leofanti on the warpath.
“Uncle Dante, glad to see you’re okay,” Skye said, then added, “And thank you for asking, even though our house was completely destroyed, we’re fine, too.”
“Yeah. Good.” The mayor tugged his green T-shirt down over his protruding stomach and pulled up his matching sweatpants.
Wally was struck by how much Dante resembled a pear. A malevolent pear, but a pear none the less. His small head, narrow shoulders, and concave chest expanded to a bulging stomach and rounded hips that seemed more suited for childbearing than any other occupation.
“Is Aunt Olive okay?” Skye asked. “Have you heard from Aunt Minnie and the cousins?”
“Everyone has checked in and is just dandy. Can we move on to town business now?” Dante sneered at Skye, then marched up to Wally and poked him with his index finger. “You need to get your ass over to Zeke Lyons’s house and find the city councilman. His wife and mother-in-law just ripped me a new one because no one is looking for him.”
“Where does he live?” Wally asked, grabbing the mayor’s finger and shoving it away from his chest.
“Kansas Street.”
Wally glanced at the map on his desk. “Martinez has that neighborhood. I’ll radio her to keep an eye out for him.”
“Hell no!” Dante squawked. “You do it right now. Those damn women are camped in my office and I want them gone.”
“How did the councilman and his family get separated?” Wally asked.
“Lyons doesn’t have a basement, and although the folks across the road offered shelter, the moron wouldn’t leave his dog. The neighbor’s kid is asthmatic and highly allergic, so the pooch wasn’t welcome. The idiot sent his missus to take cover but stayed with the hound.”
“Pets are important, too, Uncle Dante.” Skye glared at him.
Ignoring his niece, the mayor continued. “Your cops made his wife get out of the neighborhood before she could find Lyons.” The mayor narrowed his beady, black eyes. “Did you tell your officers to do that?”
“Standard procedure in a situation where structures may not be safe and when there’s the possibility of looters.” Wally lifted his chin and stared at the mayor. “Allowing people to remain in a dangerous situation is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Right. Which is why I’m going to have Scumble River declared a disaster area.” Dante grabbed Wally’s arm. “Now move your butt and go find the missing councilman.” When Wally didn’t budge, he said, “If you ever want another budget approved, you’ll take care of this for me right now.”
Wally hesitated. Refusing Dante just because the man pissed him off was stupid. He needed to get out and do some recon anyway, and it wasn’t as if he had anything urgent he had to do at the police station. He might as well try for some mayoral brownie points.
After grabbing an extra flashlight and handheld radio from his bottom drawer, he hugged Skye and said, “If you need me for anything, have your mother radio me.”
“Will do.” She gave him a soft kiss. “You be careful. Baby Boyd needs his or her daddy.”
“Not a chance in hell I’m missing that.” Wally glanced at the mayor and said, “Are you coming with me?”
“No!” Dante backpedaled toward the door. “I have to stay here to direct operations.”
“What’s the house number?”
“1902.” Dante gripped the knob. “As soon as you find Lyons, let me know so I can get his entourage out
of my hair.”
“Sure.” Wally kissed his wife goodbye and headed toward the garage.
Sliding behind the wheel of his squad car, he turned on the engine and threw it into reverse. A few minutes later, he turned into Zeke Lyons’s street and shook his head. Every single house was severely damaged and there wasn’t a tree left intact in any of the yards. Several homes were completely gone, with only the foundations remaining. Others were collapsed or missing walls or roofs.
Debris filled the lawns and the road, and power lines stretched across all the driveways. Spotting a parked Commonwealth Edison truck, Wally pulled over, exited the squad car, and walked over to the man gathering equipment from the back of his vehicle.
When the workman looked up, Wally said, “I’m Chief Boyd. What’s the status?”
“Seventy-five percent of the town is without power.” The guy shrugged. “It’s only been three hours since the tornadoes hit, so right now, our priority is making sure the downed lines are safe. I told your officer that she and the firefighter couldn’t cross them until I was finished with my inspection.”
“Good to know.” Wally thanked the man and left him to his work.
Fortunately, once again, the streetlights were still functioning. Wally left his car where he’d parked it and made his way down the road, studying the situation as he maneuvered around the rubble. There was no sign of Martinez or the firefighter, but he spotted several houses on the left side of the street with red Xs spray-painted on their doors or siding, indicating that residence had been checked. Martinez and her partner must be circling around and accessing the buildings through the backyards.
Zeke Lyons’s place was several blocks down and on the opposite side of the road. Wally knew he should call for backup, but he hated to interrupt Martinez and the firefighter. They’d have to get out of whatever residence they were currently clearing and make their way to his location.
No. He wouldn’t bother them. There wasn’t enough manpower to waste it. He’d be careful and stop if it was too risky.
Retracing his steps, Wally followed his officer’s method of avoiding the downed electrical lines and approached the councilman’s house from the rear. The front of the structure hadn’t looked too bad, but the back of the building was demolished. If Lyons was inside, he very well could be trapped in the wreckage.
Edging around an overturned fishing boat, a couch missing its cushions, and a washing machine lying on its side, Wally made it to what looked to have been the family room. An empty bracket for a flat-screen television was attached to the only remaining wall and a lounge chair was positioned facing it.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Wally yelled, “Zeke, are you here?”
Nothing.
Wally stepped over an upended coffee table, moved farther into the room, and tried again. “Zeke, it’s Chief Boyd. I came to help you.”
The same silence that greeted his first shout accompanied his second.
It looked as if, before its demolition, the rear of the house had contained a family room and two small bedrooms. Wally continued to call out the councilman’s name as he checked under every piece of furniture and in all the standing closets.
There was no sign of Lyons. Wally moved on to the fairly intact front of the residence, which held the kitchen and master bedroom. Maybe the councilman had taken shelter in one of those places.
Wally could see what remained of a hallway, and pushing debris out of his path, he made his way down the corridor. The carpet squished under his shoes as he walked and he realized that even possessions spared by the tornado would have severe water damage. Peering into the kitchen, he saw the windows were blown out, but otherwise, the room appeared untouched.
If Lyons was in the master suite, there was a decent chance the guy was okay. He wasn’t in the bedroom or the closet, but as Wally approached the attached bath, he heard a noise.
“Are you there, Zeke?” Wally tried the bathroom door. It was ajar, but the gap was too small for him to get through. “It’s Wally Boyd. Can you hear me?”
This time, Wally was able to identify the sound as an animal’s whimper.
Hell! He should have asked Dante the dog’s name.
Putting his shoulder to the wood, he shoved until the opening was large enough for him to squeeze through. Facing him was a toilet, tub, and separate shower stall. To his left, there was a countertop containing a double sink.
The partially opened door concealed the right side of the room and the animal’s whine was coming from that area. Unable to move the door any farther, Wally walked around it and stopped when a German shepherd raised its head, peeled back its lips, and growled.
The dog was lying next to what Wally assumed was the barefooted body of Zeke Lyons. He was wedged facedown against the door. And if Wally were a betting man, he’d wager the guy wasn’t ever getting up again.
Chapter 6
Jumping down, he watched it until the long legs stopped wiggling, when he knew it was quite dead.
—Cowardly Lion
Skye yawned, stretched, and tried to find a comfortable sitting position on the narrow office chair. Wally had left the police station two hours ago to go look for Zeke Lyons and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d give him another fifteen minutes, then she was going to have her mother radio Wally for a status update.
To start the countdown, she checked the time on her newly charged cell phone. Thank goodness the station had a generator and Wally had a couple of spare chargers in his desk drawer. Skye’s watch, along with her clothes and almost every other thing she owned, was gone with the same whirlwind that had destroyed her home.
Yikes! With the house in ruins, what would happen to Mrs. Griggs? When Skye had first inherited the place from the elderly lady, she hadn’t realized that, along with a leaky roof and rusty pipes, the building came with a resident ghost.
She’d discovered that the previous owner, Alma Griggs, had never really left. Mrs. Griggs’s spirit hadn’t begun making an appearance until after Skye and Wally began dating. Then, whenever they attempted any kind of intimacy beyond an innocent kiss, the apparition would make her presence known in as destructive a manner as possible—fire and explosions were among the ghost’s favorite diversions.
Having spent a small fortune on remodeling, and with the home improvement loan to show for it, Skye had been determined to live there once she and Wally were married. She, along with her BFF Trixie, had even attempted to purge the house of the mischievous spirit.
However, the ritual Skye had found on the internet hadn’t worked, and instead of leaving, Mrs. Griggs had pushed the television off its stand, smashing it to smithereens. After the ghost’s little temper tantrum, Skye had been afraid to try another cleansing.
Happily, once Skye and Wally were husband and wife, the apparition quit destroying things. She occasionally still made an appearance. But now, instead of causing problems, she left little gifts. On their wedding night, she’d scattered rose petals around their bedroom, then when Skye got pregnant, the occasional vintage baby toy began to show up in the antique crib they’d brought down from the attic and put in the new nursery.
Now that her home was destroyed, would Mrs. Griggs finally go toward the white light? Or would she stick around the wreckage, waiting for Skye to rebuild?
Having no ready answer regarding the ghost’s continued existence, Skye turned her thoughts to the chaos downstairs in the PD. She’d offered her help, but assuring her that all the phones were manned and the counter covered, May had sent her back to Wally’s office to rest.
With her offer of assistance declined, Skye had used her time waiting for Wally’s return making a list of priorities for the next day. Contacting their insurance company, shopping for clothes, and borrowing a car were her top concerns. However, figuring out what to do about her intern was a strong number four.
The poor th
ing certainly hadn’t signed on for this kind of training. But now Piper was stuck with it. Skye sure hoped the woman had had a good crisis intervention course.
Although none of the three school buildings were in the path of the tornado, Skye had heard that their roofs had sustained damage from the high winds and many of their windows had been broken by the hail. Rumor had it that the superintendent had canceled classes until the extent of the destruction was determined. One of the school psychologists employed by the special education cooperative would have to agree to take charge of Piper until things in Scumble River were sorted out, because Skye certainly couldn’t do anything with her.
Glancing at the time, Skye was surprised that only ten minutes had gone by. She had five more to kill until she would allow herself to ask May to check on Wally.
Squirming, Skye tried to find a position that didn’t aggravate her backache. The cheap office chair was an odd height that made her thighs ache and had a barely padded seat and metal arms that dug into her sides. Thankfully, the Braxton-Hicks contractions had stopped. Now if she just didn’t have to run down the stairs to the restroom every half hour, she’d be in good shape.
Skye shook her head and reminded herself to be grateful that she, her family, and her friends were alive. So far, there hadn’t been any fatalities in Scumble River from the tornado and the injuries had been relatively light. Mostly only superficial cuts, scrapes, bruises, and a few broken bones.
Another reason for thankfulness was that when her father had made it to Vince’s, her brother, pregnant sister-in-law, and niece had been fine. Their road was still blocked with the overturned combine on one end and a live power line across the other, but their new house had weathered the storm with only minor damage. Their roof was missing some shingles, and like almost everyone else, they didn’t have electricity. However, their generator had kicked in, leaving Vince, Loretta, and their daughter, April, in comfort and none the worse for wear.
Dead in the Water Page 5
