Tremors. Debra Webb
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they hadn’t discovered. Sometimes equipment failed. What they needed were the dogs.
That there were no survivors on the first level was pretty much a given; anyone who’d had the misfortune of being in that area was likely dead. Still, they could bring in the dogs and search for remains. It wasn’t completely impossible that someone had survived.
“Let’s call in the canines and see what we can find.” So far, his unit hadn’t been asked to respond to any other scene.
“We’ll have to wait our turn,” Spike informed him. “Apparently there was significant damage on the other side of town. A couple of buildings fell and a church. I heard on the radio that every trained canine in the area has been called in to sniff through the rubble.”
Joe shook his head and huffed out a weary breath. Damn, he hated to hear that. He’d hoped, based on what he’d seen and heard en route, that the quake hadn’t done that much damage. He should have known better. He’d lived through his share of rumbles.
“Hell,” Spike went on, “they said it was so bad on Poppy Avenue that the church bells actually rang right before the church collapsed.”
Courage Bay was not a large city, and Joe’s thoughts immediately went to all the people he knew who lived and worked on that side of town.
“Tell ’em we need a dog over here as soon as one is freed up,” he said somberly. “Meanwhile, I’m going back in there to see what I can find.”
“Cap’n, I think maybe you’d better rethink that strategy,” O’Shea said as she walked over. “One of the engineers said the whole backside of level three is down. I doubt there’s anything you can do for anyone there now.”
“O’Shea, I think I know my job,” he said pointedly. She knew the drill. Once the interior of the garage was inspected as fully as possible, the surrounding area was to be rechecked and victims attended to. A command post had already been set up across the street. The EMTs on Joe’s crew were taking care of victims. “All I need from you—” he looked from O’Shea to Spike “—is a canine as soon as one comes available.”
“With all due respect, sir,” O’Shea retorted, not missing a beat, “I’d prefer to join you in the search. Spike here can take care of that call.”
She wouldn’t like his decision, but Joe wasn’t about to risk another life when chances were good that anyone left in the parking garage was already dead.
He would do this alone.
SHE WAS DREAMING of him again.
She knew better…but she dreamed anyway.
Dreamed of making slow, sweet love.
Dreamed of all the fantasies that he’d instilled deep within her heart during their short time together.
Dreamed of picket fences and the pitter-patter of little feet.
Lisa Malloy stirred…the hard facts of reality prodding her from the dreams she so wanted to believe could come true.
But Joe Ripani wasn’t a forever kind of guy. He wasn’t even a real relationship guy. He was more about instant gratification—grab all you could get before it was too late.
And he definitely wasn’t the marrying type…much less the fatherly type.
Lisa moaned softly and tried to surface from what had turned quickly into an unpleasant nightmare.
She wanted to cling to the hope that Joe would somehow morph into the kind of man she longed to spend forever with, but deep inside she knew the truth. Their short affair—and that’s the only thing she could call it, since their time together had been spent mainly in his bed—had been all they would ever have. End of subject.
Her head hurt.
Or maybe it was her heart…or both.
She had to wake up. There was a very good reason she shouldn’t be sleeping right now.
Something was very, very wrong.
Wake up.
Another groan seeped past her lips. Why couldn’t she wake up? Why did her head hurt so badly?
Wake up!
She had to take the first step…had to open her eyes.
“Mmm,” she murmured softly. God, what was that pounding in her skull?
Lisa’s eyes fluttered open, seemingly of their own accord, since she didn’t appear to possess the necessary strength to lift those incredibly heavy lids.
She never took afternoon naps.
What was wrong with her?
Surely this wasn’t another symptom of…
Her gaze focused on something in front of her, drawing her full attention in that direction.
Steering wheel.
Windshield.
Cracked glass.
What the…?
The memory of her SUV shuddering beneath her…the odd up-and-down motion that felt as if she’d been driving over a bumpy road when she hadn’t even started the engine…zoomed into her head with a sensory detonation that made her groan even louder. She’d gotten into the vehicle after her visit to her tax accountant’s office. She remembered closing the door. And then the sudden vibrations…
The distinct whine of metal made her breath catch.
Lisa’s gaze jerked upward.
It took a full five seconds for her brain to absorb and comprehend what her eyes saw.
The roof of her SUV was dented…jutting downward…only inches from her head.
How was that possible?
Her vision blurred and she squeezed her eyes shut to slow the spinning inside her head.
Pull it together, she ordered her mind, which instantly tried to go fuzzy on her again.
Had she been in an accident?
Earthquake. The word surfaced through her confusion, and she knew without further examination that one had occurred. That’s why she’d felt the vehicle moving even before she started the engine.
But she was safe…inside the parking garage.
Something that sounded like an explosion rent the air. The SUV creaked and groaned, the sounds nearly deafening.
“Think, Lisa,” she muttered. “Pull it together.” She sat up a little straighter, careful not to bump her head against the roof of the vehicle. Taking a deep breath for good measure, she focused on her surroundings.
Her heart rushed into her throat when she realized that the garage had collapsed around her. She could barely see between the piles of rubble. She couldn’t make out any other vehicles. But there had to be others. She remembered clearly noting several cars when she’d emerged from the stairwell onto the third level.
The response was automatic. A woman, whether it was daylight or dark, never entered a parking garage without taking stock of her surroundings. It was just common sense.
The pounding in her chest brought her attention back to the immediate problem. How to get out…
She tried the driver’s door. Grunting, she pushed with all her might. The door didn’t budge. She didn’t even bother with the passenger side. A huge concrete pillar had blocked that side of the vehicle. She shivered. A few more inches to the left and it would have completely crushed her car.
“Think!” She had to get out of here. Chunks of broken concrete had smashed the car’s hood inward. No doubt the engine was damaged beyond repair. The windshield had cracked. She surveyed the roof of the SUV again. It had caved inward, which meant there had to be more rubble on top. She felt certain that every second she remained