Stranded

Red shook her head, her eyes wide. “I did no such thing.”

He pointed to the demolished car. “This is your Honda?”

She nodded.

“How’d she end up in your car?”

“I...I stopped at the picnic park about a mile from here. She needed help. I opened the passenger door, and a shot rang out.”

“Did you see the shooter?”

Red rubbed the swollen lump on her forehead. “I...I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember or don’t want to remember?” Even he heard the annoyance in his voice.

The woman stared at him, her face blank. Maybe she was telling the truth.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Colleen...Colleen Brennan.”

“You’re from around here?”

“Atlanta.”

Which didn’t make sense. “But you just happened to pull into a nearby picnic park?”

Her green eyes flashed with fear.

Trauma played havoc with emotions and memory. Frank wanted to believe her, but he knew too well that the pretty woman with the tangled hair could be making up a story to throw him off track.

Duke sniffed at her leg. She reached down and patted his head.

A raspy pull of air forced Frank’s attention back to the gunshot victim. She moaned.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

He leaned into the car. “Stay with us, ma’am. Help’s on the way.” Hopefully it would arrive in time.

Her glassy eyes focused on Colleen. Frank turned to stare at her.

The redhead blanched. The lump on her temple cried for ice, and the scrapes to her cheek and hands needed debridement.

“After your friend’s treated, we’ll have the EMTs take a look at you.”

“I’m fine.” Colleen’s voice was lifeless.

Slipping past her, he waved his arms in the air at the approaching first responders. Two ambulances and a fire truck from one of the rural fire stations.

The emergency crew pulled in front of the Craft Shoppe. Frank motioned them closer to the barn, where they parked and jumped from their vehicles.

“Two women are injured.” Frank pointed to the collapsed structure. “One with a bullet wound to her gut. She’s lost blood. The other woman has a knot the size of a lemon on her forehead and could be in shock.”

Hauling medical bags and a backboard, a pair of EMTs waded through the collapsed wreckage around the car. A second set of paramedics set up an emergency triage area near the second ambulance.

“We’ll need you to step away from the car, ma’am,” one of the EMTs told Colleen.

Her brow furrowed. She peered around them at Frank.

Seeing the confusion in her gaze, his anger softened. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “They’re here to help.”

Despite the niggling worry that Colleen Brennan may have been involved in the shooting, he reached for her. “Come toward me, and we’ll get out of their way.”

She offered him her hand. Her skin was soft, but clammy, which wasn’t good.

“Let’s see if someone can check your forehead.”

She shook her head. “Vivian’s the one who needs help.”

“You know her name?” Although surprised by the revelation, Frank kept his voice low and calm. “What’s her last name?”

“I...I don’t remember.” Colleen pulled her hand from his grasp. “We were trying to get away—”

She hesitated.

“Away from—” he prompted.

“A man. He was in the woods. Tall. Dark jacket. Hood over his head. He had a rifle.”

“Did you see a car?”

She shook her head. “Not that I remember.”

Selective memory or a partial amnesia brought on by trauma?

“Come with me.” Frank ushered Colleen to the triage site. Duke followed close behind.

A pair of EMTs helped her onto a gurney pushed against the side of the ambulance. One man cleaned her hands and face and treated the scratches on her arms while the other took her vitals, checked her pupils and then applied an ice pack to the lump on her forehead.

“You’ve got a slight concussion, but you don’t need hospitalization,” he said. “Is there anyone who can check on you through the night?”

She shook her head. “I...I live alone.”

“In Atlanta,” Frank volunteered.

An Amish man stumbled toward the ambulance. Blood darkened his beard. The EMTs hurried to help him.

“You’ll spend the night here in the Freemont area,” Frank told Colleen. Before she could object, he pointed to the one-story brick ranch visible in the distance. “My sister, Evelyn, owns the house on top of the knoll. There’s an extra room. You can stay with her.”

“I...I need to get back to Atlanta.”

“From the looks of your car, travel anytime soon seems unlikely. Downed trees are blocking some of the roadways and won’t be cleared until morning.”

“Is there a bus station?”

“In town, but you need to talk to law enforcement first.”

The downward slope of her mouth and the dark shadows under her eyes gave him concern. She looked fragile and ready to break.

“I...I don’t know your name,” she stammered.

“It’s Frank Gallagher, and the dog’s Duke.”

Her face softened for a moment as Duke licked her hand, then she glanced back at Frank.

“You’re a farmer?”

He shook his head. “I’m an army guy. CID.”

Seeing her confusion, he explained, “Criminal Investigation Division. We handle felony crimes for the military.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a cop?”

He shrugged. “More like a detective. What about you?”

“Flight attendant.”

“Hartsfield?”

She nodded, indicating the Atlanta airport.

One of the EMTs returned and pulled a bottle of water from a cooler. “I want you to sit up, ma’am, and drink some water. I’ll check on you again in a few minutes.”

Frank pointed to the nearby fire truck. “You relax while Duke and I talk to the guys from the fire department.”

Rounding the ambulance, Frank glanced at the road. A line of first responders and Good Samaritan townspeople had arrived to help in the rescue effort. The scene farther south was probably the same, with people flocking to the area in hopes of aiding those in need.

Glancing back at Colleen, he was relieved to see she had closed her eyes and was resting her head against the side of the ambulance.

Static played over the fire truck’s emergency radio. A tall, slender guy in his midtwenties stood nearby. He wore a navy blue shirt with the Freemont Fire Department logo and a name tag that read Daugherty.

His face brightened when he saw Duke.

“Nice dog.”

“Daugherty, can you can patch me through to the local police?”

“No problem, sir.”

Once Frank got through to the dispatcher, he explained about the gunshot victim. “Colleen Brennan was the driver of the vehicle. She’ll be staying overnight at Evelyn Gallagher’s house.” He provided the address.

“Everyone’s tied up with the rescue operation,” the dispatcher explained. “I’ll pass on the information, but be patient.”

After disconnecting, he requested a second call to Fort Rickman.

“Did you want to contact the military police?” Daugherty asked.

“That works.”

He connected Frank to the provost marshal’s office. After providing his name, Frank requested all available military help be sent to the Amish area.

“Roger that, sir. I believe we’ve already received a request for aid, but I’ll notify the Emergency Operations Center, just in case. They’ll pass the information on to General Cameron.”

“Any damage on post?”

“A twister touched down. Some of the barracks in the training area were in the storm’s path. No loss of life reported thus far. The chaplain said God was watching out for us.”

Frank wasn’t sure he’d give God the credit. If the Lord protected some, why were others in the storm’s path? “What about Freemont?”

“We’ve got some spotty reports. A trailer park on the outskirts of town was hit with some injuries. A few shops downtown and a number of the old three-story brick buildings on the waterfront.”

“The abandoned warehouses?”

“That’s correct. We’re awaiting more details from the local authorities. The information I received is that Allen Quincy is heading the civilian relief effort.”

“The mayor?”

“Yes, sir. He’s asked for our help. We’ve called in all personnel. I’ll pass on the information about the Amish area.”

“Let the Red Cross and medical personnel know, as well.”

“I’m on it, sir.”

“Do you have landline access?” Frank asked.

“To main post only.”

“See if you can contact CID Headquarters. Ask for Special Agent Colby Voss. Tell him Special Agent Frank Gallagher is at the Craft Shoppe, located at the northern end of Amish Road. We’re going to need him.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Colby’s wife, Becca, had been raised Amish. She knew the area and the local Amish bishop, but Becca was on temporary duty out of the state so Colby was the next best choice.

He and Frank had joined the CID years earlier and had served together before. Frank could attest to Colby’s ability both as an investigator and diplomat.

The Amish were a tight community and preferred to take care of their own. After the tornado, they needed help. Colby might be able to bridge the gap between the Amish and their English neighbors.

Frank thanked Daugherty for the use of his radio. He and Duke returned to the ambulance in time to hear the EMT reassure Colleen.

“Looks like dehydration was the problem, ma’am,” he told her. “Your vitals are better so you’re good to go.”

“What about that lump on her forehead?” Frank asked.

“She should be okay, especially if someone checks on her through the night.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Colleen insisted as she hopped down from the gurney.

Frank reached out a hand to steady her. She held on to him for a long moment and then nodded her thanks. “I’m okay.”

“Ma’am, you need to take it easy for the next day or two,” the EMT cautioned.

“And the gunshot victim?” Frank asked, his gaze flicking to the other ambulance.

“They’re preparing to transport her to the hospital at Fort Rickman, sir.”

“Not the civilian facility in Freemont?”

“She was conscious long enough to give her last name. Her husband is a sergeant on post. Sergeant Drew Davis.”

Frank didn’t recognize the name, but if Vivian was an army spouse, the CID would be involved in the investigation. With the Freemont police working hard on the storm-relief effort, the military might take the lead on the case.

Tonight, everyone would focus on search and rescue. By morning both the Freemont cops and the military law enforcement would have more time to question Colleen. Until then, Frank would keep her under watch.

Too many things didn’t add up. In spite of being on convalescent leave, Frank needed to learn the truth about how a military wife with a gunshot wound had ended up in Colleen’s car.

* * *

Colleen tried to ignore the pointed stare of the CID agent who had dug her from the rubble. His deep-set eyes and gaunt face were troubling and cut her to the core. In fact, the only redeeming quality about the guy was his dog.

She rubbed her temple, hoping to drive away the pounding headache that had come with the storm. Her memory was fuzzy at best, and she had difficulty recalling some of the most basic information, especially pertaining to Vivian. Without thinking, she’d left her purse in her car along with the memory card.

A pickup truck pulled to a stop in the triage area. The driver, a middle-aged farmer wearing bib overalls and a baseball cap, rolled down his window and nodded to the EMT.

“We found a guy hunkered down in a ditch just over that ridge.” The farmer pointed to the rise in the roadway. “His sports car was destroyed, but he survived, although he’s scraped up a bit. Face could have been in worse shape if he hadn’t been wearing a sweatshirt. Looks like the hood protected him. A guy with an SUV is bringing him your way.”

Hooded sweatshirt. Colleen’s heart jammed in her throat. Trey had a sporty BMW, although she hadn’t seen which of his many cars he was driving today.

If he was the injured man, Colleen had to get out of sight. She’d come back later for the things she’d left behind.

A gold SUV headed down the hill.

Her stomach fluttered. She turned and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Frank called after her.

To hide.

What could she tell him? Think. Think.

Her stalled brain refused to work. Searching for an answer, she glanced at the house on the knoll.

“I’m taking you up on that invitation to stay with your sister.” Even she heard the tremble in her voice.

Frank raised his brow. Surely he wouldn’t rescind the offer?

Her pulse throbbed and sweat dampened her back.

The SUV drew closer.

Colleen waved Frank off. “Stay here and help with the rescue operation. I can find my way up the hill.”

She lowered her head, wrapped her arms around her waist and started along the path with determined steps. Keeping her back to the approaching car, she was grateful for the descending twilight and the shadows cast from the tall pines. The path wound along the roadway for a short distance and then burrowed deeper into the woods.

If only she could reach the denser underbrush before the SUV got too close. She couldn’t let Trey see her.

Flicking a quick glance over her shoulder, she recognized the firm set of Trey’s jaw and the bulk of his shoulders as the car pulled to a stop.

No mistaking the man riding shotgun.

At that moment, he glanced up.

Ice froze her veins. Her heart slammed against her chest. If Trey recognized her, he would track her down. Not only did Colleen have incriminating photos, but she had also witnessed him shoot Vivian in cold blood.

She increased her pace and darted along the path.

“Wait, Colleen.”

The military CID agent ran after her, along with his dog.

Stay away from me, she wanted to scream, but reason won out. She needed Frank. She was stranded without a car with a killer on the loose. She needed the security of his sister’s house and his protection throughout the night.

Later, she’d return to the wreckage and retrieve her purse and the memory card. Tomorrow, she’d catch the bus to Atlanta. From there, she’d hop a flight for the West Coast and disappear from sight. She’d leave Trey behind along with the special agent who didn’t understand what she was trying to hide.

* * *

Frank wondered at Colleen’s rush to get away, but then, he wasn’t the best at reading women. Case in point Audrey, who said she’d wait for him. The memory still burned like fire.

“Wait up, Colleen.”

Frank ran after her. His hip ached, and his breathing was tighter than he’d like.

Before the IED, he’d never questioned his strength. Now he had to weigh everything in light of his physical stamina.

Drawing closer, he grabbed her arm.

She turned troubled eyes filled with accusation. “Let me go.”

Releasing his hold, he held up both hands, palm out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She glanced through the bramble to the triage area, where a cluster of rescue workers gathered. “I’m still shaky.”

An understatement for sure. “You’ve been through a lot today. The temperature’s dropped since the storm. You must be cold.”

“A little.”

He shrugged out of his windbreaker and wrapped it around her shoulders. “This should help.”

“What about you?”

“Not a problem.” He pointed to the path. “Let’s keep going while there’s still some light.”

“Are you sure your sister won’t mind taking in a stray?”

He almost smiled. “She welcomed me a few weeks back with open arms. If I had to guess, I’d say she’d enjoy having another woman in the house. She claims I get a bit snarky at times.”

“I’m sure she loves your company.”

“She loves Duke.”

Colleen almost smiled. “Who wouldn’t?” She patted his head, and he wagged his tail, enjoying the attention.

“You’ve got brothers?” Frank asked, hoping to learn more about the reclusive flight attendant.

She faltered. Her face darkened. “One sister. She passed away four months ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“Watch your step.” Frank pointed to an area littered with rocks. Taking her arm, he supported her up the steep incline.

“Thanks,” she said when they reached the top.

Stopping to catch her breath, she glanced over her shoulder. Frank followed her gaze. Darkness had settled over the small valley, but headlights from the response vehicles and flashing lights from law enforcement cut through the night.

A number of Amish buggies were on the street. Lights from additional rescue vehicles appeared in the distance. Frank needed to get Colleen settled and then return to the triage area and wait for personnel from post to arrive.

If anything good came from the tornado, it was the wake-up call that Frank had been lingering too long, nursing his wounds. He didn’t want to appear weak. Not to the military or the other CID agents. Most especially not to himself.

Colleen turned back to Evelyn’s house and paused for a long moment. Perhaps she was as unsettled about moving forward as he was. Frank could relate.

But that wouldn’t change the problem at hand. He needed to learn more about Colleen Brennan and the gunshot victim. Why were they on the run, and who was after them?

THREE

Some of Colleen’s nervous anxiety eased when Frank opened the door to his sister’s home, and she stepped inside. The dog followed.

A brick fireplace, painted white, drew her eye along with a beige couch and two side chairs, nestled around a low coffee table. An oil seascape hung over the mantel flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. She neared and glanced at the titles, seeing some of her favorites.

Frank came up behind her. “Did I tell you Evelyn is a librarian?”

“I’m in here.” A voice called from the kitchen.

He motioned for Colleen to follow as he headed toward a small hallway that led to a keeping area and open kitchen.

A slender woman, early forties, with chestnut hair and big blue eyes, stood behind a granite-topped island and greeted Frank with a warm smile. She was fair and petite and contrasted with her brother’s rugged frame and broad shoulders.

Colleen and her sister had shared similar facial structures, although Briana had been golden-haired like their mother, while Colleen inherited her flaming-red locks from her dad. Seeing the warmth of Evelyn’s welcome made Colleen long for her own sister.

“I’m baking a ham and making potato salad for the rescue effort.” She stirred mayonnaise into the bowl of boiled potatoes and sliced hard-boiled eggs.

As Colleen moved closer, Evelyn glanced up. The look on her face revealed her surprise at finding a visitor. She wiped her hand on a dish towel.

With a pronounced limp, she moved around the island and opened her arms to greet Colleen with a hug. “Welcome. Looks like you were caught in the storm.”

The sincerity of Evelyn’s voice touched a raw edge in the depths of Colleen’s self-control. Her eyes burned and a lump formed in her throat in response to the genuine concern she heard in the older woman’s voice.

Frank quickly made the introductions, his tone suddenly curt and businesslike and so opposite his sister’s soothing welcome. As if unsure of where to stand or what to do next, he headed for the coffeepot.

“Care for a cup?” he asked Colleen before glancing at his sister. “Decaf, right?”

“Always at this time or I’d never sleep.”

“A glass of water might be better,” Colleen said. “But I don’t want to trouble you.”

Duke nuzzled her leg. He held a tennis ball in his mouth and wanted to play. Before she could take the ball, Frank motioned him to the corner, where he dropped the toy and obediently lay down.

“Good dog.”

Frank turned to his sister. “Colleen’s car was damaged by the tornado. She lives in Atlanta and hopes to return home in a few days.”

“Preferably tomorrow,” she quickly added.

“You need a place to spend the night.” Evelyn’s eyes were filled with understanding. “We have a spare room. Of course you’ll stay here.”

Turning to Frank, she added, “Did you bring her luggage?”

“I’ve got a carry-on bag in the trunk of my car, but I didn’t think about it until now,” Colleen admitted.

“I’ll get it when I head back to the triage area,” Frank volunteered.

Colleen held up her hand. “No need. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“Is there anyone in Atlanta you want to call who might be worried about you?” Evelyn asked.

“That’s kind of you, but I have a cell phone.” Colleen patted her pocket, reassured by the weight of her mobile device.

“You might not have coverage,” Evelyn said. “Some of the cell towers were hit by the storm. Thankfully our landline is still working.”

“I take it you got through to the rural fire department,” Frank said to his sister.

She nodded. “Which was a blessing. They passed on the information to emergency personnel in town. The local radio station quoted the mayor as saying search-and-rescue operations would continue into the night and throughout the next few days.”

“At a minimum.” Frank glanced at his watch. “I need to hurry back.”

“You need to eat something,” Evelyn insisted.

He shook his head.

“Then I’ll make a sandwich to take with you.”

“More of your attempts to fatten me up?” His tone held a hint of levity that surprised Colleen.

Evelyn opened the refrigerator and pulled out lunch meat, cheese and mustard. As she layered the meat and cheese on two slices of bread, Frank grabbed a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. He filled it with ice and added water from the dispenser on the door of the refrigerator.

“You’ll need your coat,” Evelyn said, cutting the sandwich in half and wrapping it in foil.

Colleen accepted the water from Frank. From all appearances, his sister was the nurturing type, and despite the macho persona he tried to impart, the CID special agent seemed to readily accept her advice.

“I’m changing into my uniform. Fort Rickman’s getting involved, and I want to help them set up.”

“You’re still on convalescent leave, Frank.”

“Only for another week.”

He glanced at Colleen and then headed into the hallway that led to the front of the house. “Back in a minute.”

While Frank changed, Evelyn showed her to a guest room located behind the kitchen. “This doubles as my office and sewing room. I hope you won’t mind the clutter.”

A computer sat on a small desk, and colorful baskets filled with fabric and threads were neatly tucked in the shelving that covered the far wall. A double bed, nightstand and small dresser took up the rest of the space.

“If the weather warms tomorrow, you can use the screened-in porch.” Colleen pointed to the French doors leading to the private sitting area. “It’s usually nice this time of year, although tonight the temperature’s a bit chilly.”

“It’s a lovely room, Evelyn, but I fear I’m putting you out.”

“Nonsense. I’m glad Frank found you.”

Which he had. He and Duke had found her in the rubble. If they hadn’t, no telling how long she and Vivian would have been trapped.

“You’re fortunate the storm spared your house,” Colleen said as she glanced outside at the downed branches littering the yard.

“God answered our prayers.”

Colleen nodded. “I’m sure the Amish folks prayed, as well.”

“Of course. Their faith is strong. In fact, they are a resilient community and a forgiving people. They’ll rebuild.”

“I hate to see dreams destroyed.”

Evelyn nodded knowingly. “If only we knew what the future would hold.”

The melancholy in her voice gave Colleen pause. Perhaps Evelyn had her own story to tell.