Stranded

by Debby Giusti

  “What would you like for breakfast?” Evelyn asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  Colleen smiled. “I’d love a slice of the homemade bread you served with the soup last night.”

  “That’s easy enough. Toasted with butter and jelly?”

  “You’re spoiling me.”

  A knock at the door had Evelyn tugging her hair into place and glancing at her reflection as she passed the mirror in the hallway.

  “You look lovely,” Colleen assured her and was rewarded with a backward wave of hand as Evelyn hurried to open the door.

  Ron stepped inside and followed her into the kitchen, where he greeted Colleen and then began carrying the casseroles out to his car.

  Colleen downed her coffee, forsaking the toast she didn’t have time to fix or eat, and then grabbed the bowl of fresh fruit from the counter and hastened outside.

  She stopped short on the front porch. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the SUV parked in the driveway.

  A gold SUV.

  Ron started down the sidewalk toward her.

  She’d had a sense of déjà vu when Evelyn introduced them last night. No wonder.

  Ron was the driver who had transported Trey to the triage area.

  * * *

  The temperature had risen slightly, but the day was overcast and about as gloomy as Frank’s mood. The military had erected a flagpole near the triage area, and the American flag flapped in the breeze that blew from the west.

  Allen Quincy was spearheading the Freemont rescue effort. Midfifties with silver hair and bushy brows, the mayor quickly briefed Frank about the rescue operation.

  The engineer from Fort Rickman had checked the houses that had remained standing. A handful of the structures needed to be shored up before they’d be safe enough for the families to occupy. The army was offering manpower and supplies to any of the Amish willing to accept the help.

  Earlier this morning, Colby had met with Bishop Zimmerman and eased the Amish leader’s concerns about accepting the outreach. Once he realized the aid was freely given and in no way meant that his community was beholden to the military, he willingly accepted the help.

  With civilian and military personnel working together, the rescue and reconstruction was progressing, but people were still without homes and many had been hospitalized.

  Colby pulled to a stop in front of the tent where medical triage and evaluations were being done and waited until Frank finished talking to the mayor.

  “How ’bout some coffee?” Colby called from his car, holding up two paper cups.

  Frank smiled and reached through the open window to accept Colby’s offer. “You must have read my mind.”

  “My body needed caffeine. I thought you might feel the same, especially after the late night.”

  “Thanks for listening to Colleen and passing the information on to the chief.”

  Colby held up his hand. “I didn’t get Wilson. He was tied up with the general, but he sent a message through Sergeant Raynard Otis. Wilson wants to see you. Ray will call and set up an appointment.”

  “When?”

  “Probably when post gets back to normal.”

  “A couple days or so?”

  “That sounds about right.” Colby sipped the coffee.

  “I’m sure Wilson wants to know when I plan to return to duty.”

  “Do you have an answer for him?”

  Frank shrugged. “I’m ready now, if he can use me.”

  “My guess, he’d tell you to stay here in the area until the relief effort is behind us. You’ve done a lot already.”

  Frank shook his head. “This is basic military operations.”

  “I hear you, but even the bishop mentioned your name this morning.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  “So are you, Frank.”

  As much as he appreciated Colby’s comment, Frank wasn’t sure where he stood with the chief. Wilson was a competent investigator, but tight-lipped, especially with subordinates, and always faint on praise.

  “I called Atlanta PD and left a message for Ulster to call me when he reports to work.”

  “Has anyone talked to Vivian?”

  “Negative. The docs have her in an induced coma. I alerted security at the hospital on post and asked the military police to station a man outside her room.”

  “In case Trey returns?”

  “Exactly. If he tried to kill her once, he may try again.”

  Would he come after Colleen, as well?

  Frank let out a stiff breath. “Did anyone look at the call log on Vivian’s phone?”

  “We’re waiting for a warrant, but I ran the plates on the blue Honda this morning.”

  “Colleen’s car?”

  Colby shrugged. “A long shot but you never know.”

  “You think she’s lying.”

  “Look, Frank, we both know things aren’t always as they seem. Her story’s confusing enough that it just might be true, but as I mentioned last night, facts need to be verified. I wanted to ensure the car was registered to Colleen Brennan. I should hear something shortly.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  The coffee tasted bitter. Frank poured the remainder on the ground as Colby drove away. He crushed the recycled cardboard in his hand and tossed it in a nearby trash receptacle.

  Duke had lost the keen sense of smell that had made him a valuable military working dog in the IED explosion in Afghanistan. Evidently, Frank had lost his investigative edge and ability to see things clearly, as well.

  He hadn’t even thought to run the plates.

  In spite of what he had told Colleen last night, he wanted to believe her. The tale she had told—as Colby mentioned—seemed a bit disjointed, yet if all the pieces had been sewed too neatly together, he might have been even more suspicious.

  The old Frank went on gut feelings, and his gut was telling him that Colleen was not involved in any criminal activity. He shook his head, knowing all too well that a sound investigation was based on facts, not feelings.

  He couldn’t let any personal feelings for Colleen get in the way of uncovering the truth. She was pretty and seemed legit, but as Colby said, looks could be deceiving. He thought of Audrey, which only drove home the fact that he wasn’t a good judge of women.

  Was Colleen to be trusted?

  He hoped so, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Not with a supposed drug dealer turned killer like Trey Howard on the loose.

  * * *

  “What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked, returning to the kitchen, where Colleen had fled, the fruit bowl still in hand, after seeing Ron’s gold SUV. “I thought you were going with us. The food’s in the car. Ron’s ready to drive us down the hill.”

  “To the triage area?”

  Evelyn nodded. “By the Amish Craft Shoppe.”

  As Frank had mentioned and where Colleen needed to go to find her purse.

  Ron entered the kitchen and looked expectantly at Evelyn. “Are you ready?”

  “I was just checking to ensure we got everything.” After grabbing two additional serving utensils, she nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Evelyn pointed to the door and motioned Colleen forward. “Let’s get the fruit in the car, and we’ll be able to leave. People are hungry. We should hurry.”

  Ron and Evelyn were both staring at Colleen. She had to make a decision. Was Ron in any way involved with Trey? Or was it pure coincidence that the seemingly compassionate churchgoer had transported an injured man, who turned out to be a drug trafficker determined to cause her harm?

  Colleen wasn’t sure about Ron, but she trusted Evelyn, and she had to get back to her car. She’d go with them, but she’d keep her eyes open and w
atch for any signs that he wasn’t who he seemed. For Evelyn’s sake, she hoped Ron was a good man. For her own sake, as well.

  SEVEN

  Frank recognized Ron’s gold SUV heading down the hill from Evelyn’s house. The retired teacher was a nice guy who had been hanging around his sister recently.

  Evelyn had been in love once, but she never talked about the guy or what had happened to break them up. Frank had been stationed at Fort Lewis, in Washington State.

  About that same time, Evelyn had been involved in a car accident on a wet, slippery road that left her with a noticeable limp. Frank came home to help her recuperate. When he broached the subject about the former boyfriend, she had shrugged off his questions and indicated she didn’t want to revisit the past. Frank had abided by her wishes. Now she seemed enamored with Ron, which made Frank happy for her sake.

  Ron pulled onto the gravel path and braked to a stop. He waved as he stepped from his vehicle. “Hey there, Frank. We brought breakfast. Where do you want us?”

  Frank looked past Evelyn and saw Colleen in the backseat. Her face appeared even more strained than when he’d seen her earlier in Evelyn’s kitchen. They’d parted last night on an angry note, and he wanted to reassure her.

  Colleen had nothing to worry about if she was telling the truth, but that was what hung heavy between them. The uncertainty of whether she was being truthful about her involvement in Trey Howard’s drug operation.

  Frustrated that everything seemed so complicated, even in the light of day, he turned back to Ron and pointed him toward the clearing. “You can set up your serving line in front of the tent.”

  The teacher helped Evelyn from the car. Frank hurried to assist Colleen, but she opened her door before he could reach for the handle.

  She stepped from the backseat, looking almost hesitant, and glanced at the barn, where one wall still hung precariously over her car.

  Ron pulled out the first of four folding tables from the back of the SUV. Frank helped with the setup. Once the tables were upright, Evelyn wiped them with a damp cloth, and Colleen dried them with paper towels.

  “You were up early this morning,” Frank told his sister.

  “I was saying my morning prayers and giving thanks to the Lord for saving us in the storm. Knowing people needed food, I wanted to get a head start on the breakfast casseroles. As it was, Ron arrived soon after you left and just as I was ready to pull them from the oven.”

  “Perfect timing.” Frank’s gaze flicked to Colleen, who had yet to say anything. Her cheeks had more color, but lines of fatigue were noticeable around her eyes.

  She wore an emerald-green sweater, and her hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. He followed her to the SUV and took a large bowl of fresh fruit from her hands.

  “How’s that lump on your forehead?” he asked.

  “It’s fine, but I’m worried about Vivian. Do you have any news about her condition?”

  “The hospital wouldn’t tell me much when I called this morning. Only that she’s still in ICU, and her condition’s critical.”

  “Has anyone talked to her husband?”

  Frank shook his head. “I’m not sure. CID may have.”

  “He didn’t know about the trip to Colombia.”

  “That will have to be determined.”

  Colleen bristled.

  “It’s the way law enforcement operates, Colleen. Anecdotal information needs to be checked. We can’t operate on hearsay.”

  Her eyes were guarded as she glanced up at him. “You think I’m covering up the truth?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You keep demanding answers to your questions, then when I provide information, you instantly discount it as not being factual.”

  She slipped on insulated mitts and grabbed one of the piping-hot casseroles. “I’d be better off not telling you anything, Frank. Then you could learn everything on your own, which you seem to need to do no matter what I say.”

  She huffed as she walked past him.

  Anyone else and he wouldn’t have been affected, but Colleen’s sharp reproach made him flinch internally. She was right about his need to verify everything she said, but that was what investigators did, even when they believed a witness was being truthful.

  He glanced at his sister, who didn’t have a clue about what was going on. Ron was equally in the dark. Both of them smiled and chatted amicably as they transported the food from the SUV to the tables.

  Two more carloads of volunteers parked near the Amish Craft Shoppe. They hustled forward carrying casseroles that, coupled with what Ron and Evelyn had brought, would provide an abundance of food for the workers and those displaced.

  The military planned to set up a second tent this afternoon that would serve as a makeshift chow hall. Hot food in marmite containers was scheduled to arrive later in the day.

  Ron would probably still be here helping out any way he could. Evelyn couldn’t stand that long and would need a break. Colleen had to be tired, too.

  Frank hadn’t slept much last night, and he doubted she had either. He’d encourage her to rest, although he doubted she would want his advice.

  A line of hungry rescue workers formed even before all the food had been placed on the tables. Ron raised his hands to get everyone’s attention and offered a blessing over the food.

  Colleen clasped her hands and lowered her eyes. A breeze played with a strand of hair that had come free from her neck. She pulled it behind her ear, her gaze still downward.

  As Ron concluded the prayer, three flatbed trucks hauling bulldozers and backhoes came into view. American Construction was stenciled on the side of the earth-moving machinery.

  Frank double-timed to the edge of the road and signaled where the vehicles should park. A man climbed down from the first truck. He wore a gray T-shirt with the construction company’s logo of a bulldozer superimposed over a stenciled outline of the world.

  Frank stretched out his hand and introduced himself. “You’re the owner of American Construction?”

  The big guy nodded. “Steve Nelson. I saw the report on the Atlanta news and called city hall in Freemont. They connected me to the mayor who’s running the rescue effort. I told him we had some equipment and wanted to help.”

  The guy was built, at least six-two with huge biceps and a lot of definition under his shirt.

  Steve wasn’t a stranger to the gym. His strong grip and powerful forearm were evident when he shook Frank’s hand.

  “We appreciate the help.”

  The guy looked as Frank had at one time when weight lifting and training had been part of his daily routine.

  “Frank Gallagher, Army CID. Nice to have you join us, Steve.”

  Two of his men approached, both big guys wearing the same company T-shirt and packing plenty of muscle. “Paul Yates and Kyle Ingram.”

  They shook hands. “Thanks so much,” Frank said.

  He filled them in on the stretch of homes that needed to be cleared along the road.

  “There’s food, if you want to grab some chow before you get started.”

  Steve held up his hand. “We ate before we left Atlanta.”

  Assessing the situation quickly, he sent one of the trucks farther south to connect with the effort closer to post.

  “Paul and I’ll get started here.” Steve eyed the homes across the road still buried in debris. “You’ve completed the search for injured?”

  “We have. Any structure that has a large X on its door has been cleared and is ready for your men.”

  He nodded. “We’ve done this a number of times over the twelve years our company’s been in operation. Just tell me where you want me to start.”

  Frank pointed to the Craft Shoppe. Damage to the building wa
s minimal, but fallen trees and debris littered the entranceway. “Having the Amish store open for business would lift everyone’s spirits.”

  Steve nodded. “We’ll start there. Then head across the street and work south.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Frank hustled back to the breakfast line. Colleen stood next to Evelyn, and both of them offered smiles of encouragement along with the food they dished up to the hungry workers.

  Colleen chatted amicably with one of the men in line. More of her hair had pulled from the bun and blew free. For an instant, Frank had a vision of who Colleen really was. She seemed relaxed and embraced life. An inner beauty that she tried to mask was evident in the attention she showered on each person in line.

  In that same moment, Frank wished he could be one of the people with whom she was interacting. Each time he and Colleen were together, she closed down, as if burdened by the weight she carried. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laughter.

  Duke nuzzled close to Frank’s leg as if sensing his master’s confusion about the woman from Atlanta. Colleen may have told him the truth last night, but she was still embroiled in a shooting. The video found in her car only compounded the situation.

  Frank needed to tread carefully. She could be hiding something behind her guarded gaze and cautious nature. He couldn’t make a mistake and allow an attractive woman to throw him off course. He may be physically compromised, but he needed to think clearly.

  She was someone of interest. The problem was, a part of him was interested in a way that didn’t mesh with his CID background. He needed to hold his feelings in check and use his brain instead of his heart when he was dealing with Colleen.

  * * *

  “Do you need anything?”

  Colleen startled at the sound of Frank’s voice. She turned to find him behind her, standing much too close. Needing space, she took a step back, but her leg hit the table.

  Wanting to maintain her self-control, she raised her chin and stared up at his angular face. For one long moment, the hustle and bustle around her melted into the background. Her breath caught in her throat, and she forgot about his questions and the doubt she had heard in his voice the night before.