A Cry In The Night. Linda Castillo
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look. Back when he’d been a cop, his fellow officers had jokingly called him “scary” when he was angry or intent on a case. Tonight, Buzz bet he looked downright terrifying.
He walked briskly down the hall, his boots thudding solidly against the wood planks. He heard Kelly moving behind him, but he didn’t slow down. The light was on in the galley, and he knew that was where his men had congregated to wait. Working his coat off as he walked, he tossed it at the coat rack, heard it fall to the floor. He didn’t stop to pick it up.
He entered the galley and halted. Four sets of narrowed eyes swept from Buzz to the woman behind him and back to Buzz. He saw the questions in their expressions, but he had no intention of answering any of them. Not tonight. Not until they’d found his son.
Medic John Maitland stood at the front of the room, dressed in his bright orange flight suit. Next to him, Tony “Flyboy” Colorosa, also geared in his flight suit, was pinning a topographical map of White River National Forest on an easel. Jake Madigan and junior medic Pete Scully hovered over the map, but their heads were turned and they were looking at Buzz as if he’d just beamed down from another planet.
Vaguely, Buzz was aware that he was breathing heavily. That his shirt clung damply to his back. He wondered if he was the only one who could hear the jackhammer rhythm of his heart.
“Winch team and night vision are RTG,” John said, using the shorthand term for “ready to go.”
“Chopper is standing by,” Tony added.
Realizing he had yet to explain the situation, Buzz gave himself a quick mental shake and started toward the front of the room. “Take your seats,” he snapped.
The four men shuffled into their seats.
For the first time since he’d begun his career with RMSAR four years earlier, Buzz felt as if he wasn’t in control of the situation. He fought for objectivity, to attain the clarity of mind that had made him such a good cop, such a good team leader—but he knew it was a useless endeavor. When he raised his finger to the map, his hand shook.
“We’ve got a lost boy. Four years old.” He indicated the general location on the map. “White River National Forest. East slope.” Pulling in a deep breath, he looked at Kelly. “They’ll need a description. You’re familiar with the area. I’d like you to point out the exact location. Give us the circumstances.”
Buzz watched her approach, aware of the dull thud of his heartbeat. In the harsh light of the galley, she looked pale and badly shaken. The cut on her temple stood out in stark contrast to her ashen complexion. The bruise forming beneath was going to be brilliant once it bloomed. She’d shed her coat in the foyer, and for the first time he realized just how bad the fall she’d taken must have been. Her jeans were dirty at the left hip and torn at the knee. The flannel shirt she wore had come untucked at one side and hung ungracefully to mid thigh.
He might be angry with her for lying to him about their son all these years, but he damn well was going to make sure she got checked out by a doctor before this was through. Damn hard-headed woman.
“This is Kelly Malone,” he said.
Absolute silence filled the room. The four men watched her carefully and with great interest as she took her place at the front of the room and let out a shaky breath. Her brown eyes scanned the male faces watching her.
“Eddie is four years old,” she began. “Dark hair, brown, cut short. Gray eyes. He’s wearing a white Denver Broncos sweatshirt and a pair of blue jeans. White sneakers. He had a green jacket tied around his waist, but he might be wearing it now. His backpack is blue.” Setting her purse on the table, she pulled out her wallet and dug the photo from it with trembling fingers. “I’ve only got one picture. It’s a couple of months old, but it’s a good one.” She looked longingly at the photo, then closed her eyes briefly. Without looking at it again, she handed it to John Maitland.
“Where did you last see him?” Jake Madigan asked.
Taking Kelly’s arm, Buzz eased her toward the map. “Did you say the eastern edge of the park?” he asked her.
She nodded, then turned to study the map.
Buzz could feel her shaking, knew she was holding onto her composure by only a thread. A very thin thread that wouldn’t hold much longer. He didn’t want to be there when it snapped, but knew he’d rather it be him than someone else.
He was aware of the men watching her, could practically feel the curiosity bubbling in the room. He knew they were wondering if their surly team leader had an ex-wife and a child he’d never told anyone about. Holy hell, this was a mess.
Forcing his mind back to the matter at hand, he gently squeezed her arm to let her know she was doing all right. That they were going to get through this. That they were going to get their son back.
Kelly gave him a grateful look, but her hand shook violently when she raised it to point out the hiking trail where she’d fallen. “Right here.”
“That’s the eastern edge of the hiking trails,” said John Maitland. “Terrain gets rough to the north.”
She nodded. “We were on the southernmost trail. About two miles from the campground.”
“How long has he been gone?”
“Almost four and a half hours.” Her voice cracked with the last word.
Knowing she couldn’t take much more before she broke, Buzz moved her gently aside and stepped forward. “Flyboy, what’s the weather situation?”
“There’s a front to the northwest. Weather Service is expecting sustained winds of fifty knots. It’s going to get rough when that sucker blows through.”
“What’s the flying time frame?”
“I’d say we have a couple of hours of fly time before I have to recall to base.”
Buzz’s curse was interrupted by Jake Madigan’s. Buzz looked over at the tall man wearing the battered Stetson.
“That’s not the only problem,” the cowboy said.
The hairs on Buzz’s nape stood up. Next to him, Kelly jerked her head toward Jake. Buzz shot the other man a questioning look.
Jake sighed, glanced from Kelly to Jake.
Buzz understood what the other man was trying to say an instant too late. Kelly darted around the table and walked over to Jake. Chin jutting, she raised her hand and pointed a finger in the general direction of his face. “Don’t you dare keep information from me just because you think I can’t handle it. I need to know what’s going on.”
Grimacing, Jake removed his Stetson, then looked helplessly at Buzz. “Well, ma’am…uh, with all due respect—”
“What problem?” she pressed.
Realizing abruptly what Jake was about to say, Buzz stepped forward and put his hands on Kelly’s shoulders. “We’re professionals, Kel. Let us take care of this. We’ll find him.”
“No.” She whirled on Buzz. “Don’t try to keep me out of this. I’m not going to sit this out.” She turned back to Jake, who looked as if he’d just backed into a cactus. “Damn it, tell me what the hell is going on.”
Jake sighed, shot Buzz a questioning look.
Knowing his ex-wife wasn’t going to back down, Buzz gave him a minute nod.
“The ranger station up on Ruby Lake reported a fire a few hours ago,” Jake began. “There was a lightning strike. With the drought and high winds, the fire is gaining momentum. It’s still small at this point, but it’s burning uncontrolled and heading this way.”
Kelly put her hand to her mouth to stop the sob that bubbled out, but she didn’t succeed. Her free hand went to her stomach, as if she’d been gut-punched. “Oh, God. Oh, no.”
Buzz pressed his fingers