Stranded

by Debby Giusti

  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.

  “Re
lax, 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.

  FOUR

  While Evelyn busied herself in the kitchen, Colleen hurriedly ate a bowl of homemade soup and a slice of homemade bread slathered with butter.

  “A friend is stopping by shortly.” Evelyn wiped the counter and then rinsed the sponge in the sink. “He’s a retired teacher and works with the hospitality committee at church. Ron’s organizing a meal for the displaced folks and the rescue workers.”

  A timer dinged. She opened the oven and pulled out two green bean casseroles and a baked ham.

  “The Amish want to take care of their own, but with so many homes destroyed they’ll need help. Thankfully, I had a ham and fresh vegetables in the fridge, many grown by my Amish neighbors. They also baked the bread you’re eating.”

  “It’s delicious.”

  Finishing the last of the soup, Colleen scooted back from the table and headed to the sink. “I was hungrier than I thought. I’m sure the homeless will appreciate the food.” She rinsed her dishes and silverware and loaded them in the dishwasher.

  “I’d invite you to join us, but you look worn-out,” Evelyn said. “Better to get a good night’s sleep. There will be plenty of ways to get involved in the days ahead.”

  “I’m going back to Atlanta.”

  Evelyn nodded. “That’s right. I didn’t mean to change your plans, but if you decide to stay longer, you know you’re welcome.”

  A knock sounded. She hurried to open the front door and invited a man inside. Returning to the kitchen, she introduced Ron Malone. He was of medium build and height but had expressive eyes and a warm smile, especially when he looked at Evelyn.

  For an instant, Colleen had a sense of déjà vu.

  Shaking it off, she tried to focus on what Evelyn was saying. Something about organizing the food.

  “Colleen was driving through the area when the tornado hit,” Evelyn explained. “Her car was damaged. She hopes to get back to Atlanta in a day or two.”

  Tomorrow.

  “I’m amazed at the immediate response from so many who want to help.” Colleen shook Ron’s outstretched hand. “I doubt the same would happen in Atlanta.”

  “I think you’d be surprised about the number of caring people even in the city.”

  Colleen didn’t share his opinion, but Evelyn’s friend had an engaging manner, and from the way Evelyn was smiling, she must think so, as well.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll say good-night and head to my room.”

  Evelyn gave her a quick hug. “Hope you sleep well.”

  Colleen didn’t plan to sleep. She planned to do something else, something she didn’t want Evelyn to know about.

  Timing would be important. She needed to be back at the house before Frank came home. He was the last person she wanted to see tonight.

  Once the front door closed and Ron had backed out of the driveway, Colleen left the house through the French doors and scurried across the yard to the path in the woods. Gingerly, she picked her way down the hill.

  A large military tent had been erected since she’d left the triage area. It was located close to the Amish Craft Shoppe and well away from the barn.

  Staying in the shadows, she inched forward, grateful that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. All along Amish Road, flashing lights illuminated the ongoing rescue effort.

  Glancing back, she saw the glow in Evelyn’s kitchen window like a beacon of hope in the midst of the destruction. The sincere welcome and concern she had read in her hostess’s gaze had brought comfort.

  If only she could sense a bit of welcome from Frank. He revealed little except a mix of fatigue and frustration. The only time she’d seen his expression brighten was when he’d talked to his sister. Other than that, he’d seemed closed, as if holding himself in check.

  Judging by his appearance, he must have either been sick or sustained an injury. Her heart softened for an instant before she caught herself and reeled in her emotions. She didn’t want to delve into his past or any pain he carried. She had enough of her own.

  Her eyes burned as she thought of her sister. Too often, Briana had called begging for money to buy more drugs. Colleen had adopted a tough-love attitude that had backfired. She had hoped going after Trey would ease the burden of guilt that weighed her down. Now Vivian was injured, and the evidence she had planned to give Colleen was buried in the rubble.

  Squinting into the night, Colleen saw the outline of her Honda, partially covered with debris. The passenger door was still open. Using her cell phone for light, she approached the car and leaned inside.

  Working her hand across the floorboard, she searched for two purses, one of which contained the evidence Vivian had promised. The other—her own handbag—held the tiny memory card filled with digital photos.

  Trying to recall the series of events when she pulled into the roadside park, Colleen bent lower. Vivian had dropped her purse at her feet as soon as she’d climbed into the car. Colleen extended her arm under the seat and then stretched down even farther.

  A hand touched her shoulder.

  She jerked. Her head knocked against the console, hitting near the spot injured earlier in the storm. The pain made her gasp for air. Rubbing the initial knot that was still noticeable, she turned to stare into Frank’s dark eyes.

  “Looking for something?” His voice was laced with accusation.

  “My...my carry-on bag,” she stammered.

  He gripped her upper arm and pulled her from the car.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice cracked, making her sound like a petulant child when she wanted to be forceful and self-assured.

  “Let go of my arm,” she demanded, more satisfied with the intensity of her command.

  “Promise me you won’t run.”

  She straightened her back. As if she could outrun Frank.

  “I was searching for my own luggage in my own car. That doesn’t warrant being manhandled.”

  His head tilted. He released his hold on her.

  She rubbed her arm. He hadn’t hurt her, but he had been aggressive.

  Dark shadows played over his steely gaze. “What were you really looking for, Colleen?”

  Refusing to be intimidated, she held her ground. “I just told you. My carry-on.”

  “Which I found in the trunk of your car.” He held up the shoulder bag Vivian had carried. “Was this what you wanted?”

  “That’s Vivian’s purse. She dropped it on the floor when she slipped into the car.”

  “Then maybe you were looking for her cell.” He held up the iPhone.

  “Should I have been?”

  He leaned closer. “You tell me.”

  “Look, Frank, we’re not getting anywhere fast. I’m sure Vivian would like her purse and phone back. As for me, I’m not interested in either item.”

  “Did Vivian tell you about the video? The near-field communication function was turned on. Had she planned to send a copy of the video to your phone?”

  “I don’t know anything about a video.”

  Vivian had evidence she’d wanted to share. A chill ran down Colleen’s spine. Frank had found what Vivian had promised to provide.

  He tapped Vivian’s phone. A picture appeared on the screen of a rectangular object wrapped in plastic.

  Colleen leaned in to view the screen. “What’s in the shrink wrap?”

  “Don’
t play dumb. You know exactly what the package contains.”

  She pulled back, frustrated by the hostility in his voice.

  When she didn’t respond, he took a step closer, too close.

  “Coke. Crack. Crystal.” He glared down at her. “You get the message?”

  His eyes narrowed even more. “Were you and Vivian working for the guy in the video, only maybe Vivian was dealing on the side? Maybe she wanted to rip him off? He got angry and followed her.”

  Frank hesitated for half a heartbeat. “Or was he following you? Did you and Vivian plan to blackmail him? Maybe you wanted payment for the video. Did you ask for cash, or did you want the payoff in drugs?”

  Anger swelled within her. Frank was just like the cops in Atlanta.

  “Do you always jump to the wrong conclusion?” she threw back at him. “Must not bode well for your law enforcement career.”

  Fire flashed from his eyes. She had struck a sore spot. He took a step back and pursed his lips.

  “We need to talk.” He glanced up the hill. “At Evelyn’s house.”

  “You mean you’re not going to haul me off to jail?”

  “Tell me the truth, Colleen. That’s all I want. Why did you meet Vivian at the roadside park? Who’s the guy in the video? Was he the shooter? If so, why’d he come after you? If you’ll answer those questions, then I’ll listen. If you’re unwilling, I’ll transport you to CID Headquarters tonight.”

  She raised her chin with determination and stood her ground. “I’m not military. You don’t have jurisdiction over me.”

  A muscle in his neck twitched. “Then I’ll contact the local authorities.”

  “They’re busy, tied up with the aftermath of the storm. I doubt they’d be interested.”

  “You’re wrong. A woman was shot. She was in a video and appears to have been dealing drugs. The local authorities may be busy, but they’re not that busy.”

  Colleen breathed out a deep sigh of resignation. She didn’t have a choice. “You’re right, Frank. We need to talk.”

  “I’ve got my truck.” He pointed to where it was parked on the far side of the Amish store.