Книга - When The Right One Comes Along

When The Right One Comes Along
Kate James


Brought together by disaster. Kept together by loveIn the aftermath of a deadly earthquake, it's chaos for trauma surgeon Jessica Hansen. Among the many victims, one patient stands out—San Diego Police K-9 search and rescue officer Cal Palmer.Cal vows to help Kayla, a child orphaned by the disaster. But he needs Jessica's help. Will their shared concern for Kayla and for his canine partner, Scout, allow them to put aside their personal torments and discover the difference love can make?







Brought together by disaster. Kept together by love.

In the aftermath of a deadly earthquake, it’s chaos for trauma surgeon Jessica Hansen. Among the many victims, one patient stands out—San Diego Police K-9 search and rescue officer Cal Palmer.

Cal vows to help Kayla, a child orphaned by the disaster. But he needs Jessica’s help. Will their shared concern for Kayla and for his canine partner, Scout, allow them to put aside their personal torments and discover the difference love can make?


“Scout’s part of my life,” he said.

“That’s why I find it hard to take him to the department to stay in a cage,” Cal went on. “I know it’ll be hard on him.”

Jessica’s heart warmed for the big, gruff cop. To her way of thinking, how could someone not care about kids and dogs? But Cal seemed to, more than the average person.

He was a stranger, and she was thinking about turning her life upside down for him by offering to take care of Scout. How would she manage with a high-maintenance dog—and keep doing her job with the long hours, odd shifts and unpredictable emergencies? She reminded herself again why she didn’t have a pet, despite her love for animals.

But then she looked at Cal, saw the concern in his eyes, and her heart melted completely. She wanted to help them. She really did. But she couldn’t deny that part of the reason was the fact that she’d be able to see Cal.


Dear Reader (#ulink_489a6c71-25e1-5dea-8c14-092aa18d5956),

This is the first book in my K-9 squad trilogy, and it’s the story of trauma surgeon Jessica Hansen and San Diego Police search and rescue officer Cal Palmer. Although I have always had a profound sense of gratitude for the men and women who dedicate their lives to law enforcement, through my research for this trilogy I gained an even greater appreciation for the bravery and dedication of canine officers and the intelligence and resourcefulness of police dogs.

Thank you for choosing to read Jessica and Cal’s story. I have frequently been asked with respect to my previous books if I planned to tell the story of any of the secondary characters in a sequel. The beauty of writing a trilogy is that we already know there will be two more books. If you enjoy When the Right One Comes Along, you won’t have to wait long for the second book in the trilogy, When Love Matters Most. The story of K-9 unit sergeant Rick Vasquez and veterinarian Madison Long is scheduled for release early in January 2016.

As always, I would love to hear from you! You can connect with me through my website, Facebook page, Twitter or regular mail.

Happy reading!

Kate

Website: Kate-James.com (http://www.kate-james.com)

Facebook: Facebook.com/KateJamesBooks (https://www.facebook.com/KateJamesBooks)

Twitter: @KateJamesBooks (https://twitter.com/katejamesbooks)

Mailing address: PO Box 446, Schomberg, ON, L0G 1T0, Canada


When the Right One Comes Along

Kate James




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


KATE JAMES spent much of her childhood abroad before attending university in Canada. She built a successful business career, but her passion has always been literature. As a result, Kate turned her energy to her love of the written word. Kate’s goal is to entertain her readers with engaging stories featuring strong, likable characters. Kate has been honored with numerous awards for her writing. She and her husband, Ken, enjoy traveling and the outdoors with their beloved Labrador retrievers.


Dedication (#ulink_f52bb9f0-166a-552c-8a2f-e37c5fb6e2c3)

To Veronica Cohn She lives on in countless hearts


Acknowledgments (#ulink_11b09a67-c114-505e-804e-4f864ee51883)

As always, I have to acknowledge my brilliant editor, Paula Eykelhof. I am grateful to her for her invaluable contributions to all my books. And much thanks to Victoria Curran for challenging me and all the Heartwarming authors to tell the very best stories we can.

I owe special thanks to York Regional Police (Ontario, Canada), and Constable Jim Hilton, in particular. Constable Hilton, a YRP canine unit officer and trainer, was generous with his time, resource materials and limitless knowledge as I conducted my research for this trilogy. I also thank him for introducing me to his explosives detection dog, Max, and demonstrating to me some of Max’s skills.

Finally I offer my sincere gratitude to all the men and women who dedicate their lives to law enforcement, to keep us safe and secure in a world where their jobs are becoming ever more complex.


Contents

Cover (#u245bb2a2-4a75-58e8-98e4-a98c59550b9b)

Back Cover Text (#u245bb2a2-4a75-58e8-98e4-a98c59550b9b)

Introduction (#u8f81f52a-11fe-5887-8ab0-4f1ae82c990c)

Dear Reader (#u08a3c93f-bd3d-5a34-826d-72b00b61678d)

Title Page (#u517ad819-1e38-5c9e-8dfb-3c4e7b943974)

About the Author (#u0ccb116b-4247-5f11-b447-87dfc4b7b39c)

Dedication (#uf273abed-43cc-53d3-87f7-3a5e0b80c075)

Acknowledgments (#u940be2f3-9843-57fd-9e23-2f359ba9f913)

CHAPTER ONE (#u458a7419-ea1e-57c4-a3f8-b47b25b9135b)

CHAPTER TWO (#ud45a4405-96d5-5186-b311-cb0451745bfd)

CHAPTER THREE (#ue8dfe076-c5c5-581f-a41a-79499cd577f5)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ufa152fee-7814-5d1b-bffa-14c123258210)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ud2524e53-124c-5aa5-869d-7a0b4127c28d)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_eb05d856-b175-5813-af14-b29d57862cea)

CALEN PALMER’S POLICE-ISSUED Ford Explorer veered sharply to the left, barely missing the large chunk of concrete, twisted rebar and other detritus strewn across the road. As he straightened the steering wheel, a blur of motion had him hitting the brakes hard.

The SUV skidded sideways on the dust-slicked road, shuddering to rest just inches from a wide-eyed woman. Her face and clothes were streaked with grime and blood, and she clutched a small bundle to her chest.

At the soft whine behind him, Cal looked over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Scout. You’re okay, pal,” he told his canine partner while he opened the driver’s door.

“Earthquake! We got an earthquake!” someone yelled. As if he didn’t know that already. But people were panicked and the guy must have been reacting to the San Diego Police Department markings on his vehicle.

Voices erupted all around as he ran to the woman.

He felt the surge of adrenaline. It was a baby she was holding. And the blanket was saturated with blood.

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, as he gauged the severity of the cuts on the woman’s forehead and her right forearm, and checked her pupils for dilation.

“I... I’m okay,” she choked out through her sobs. “My baby. Lila...” She cast a terrified glance at the child she cradled against her.

“Let me see.” Cal eased back the blanket and scrutinized the tiny, scrunched-up face, the furiously working little mouth and the tightly fisted hands. The baby was alive. He did a quick, careful check. There were no obvious signs of trauma. The blood on the blanket was the woman’s, not the child’s.

“Your daughter appears to be fine,” he assured her. She didn’t respond, and he hoped she wasn’t going into shock. He had to leave. People’s lives depended on him and Scout, but he had to do what he could for the woman and her child.

A siren wailed, and Cal looked over at the ambulance barreling toward the intersection of University and West Washington. Dispatch had told him the triage area was set up in the parking lot of a nearby mall.

“Listen to me.” He shook the woman gently. “Listen, okay?” Finally, her gaze met his. “See where that ambulance is headed?” She nodded. “Go there. The hospital’s sent medical personnel. It’s not far. Maybe a five-minute walk. Have a doctor look at your baby. They’ll need to stitch up your arm, too.”

She stared at him, tears welling in her eyes.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded again, and was about to move away, but Cal glanced at the baby again and put a hand on her uninjured arm. “Wait a minute.”

He sprinted over to his truck, opened the passenger-side door and pulled a cotton sweatshirt from his duffel. Using a pocket knife, he tore off a sleeve as he ran back to the woman, and tied it around her arm as a makeshift bandage. He then quickly helped her remove the soiled blanket from her child and replaced it with the clean sweatshirt. The woman rested her forehead against her child’s, and murmured a thank-you. Cal tucked the cloth more snugly around the small form, and nudged the woman in the direction of the triage area. “Now go. Lila’ll be okay,” he said, and prayed he was right.

Jumping back into his vehicle, Cal continued to the incident command location he’d been given by dispatch. He veered around a crushed concrete column, toppled on its side. It was blocking part of the roadway, its upper half shattered, the exposed rebar bent and tangled. He knew the amount of force it took for concrete to fail, which didn’t bode well for what he’d see closer to the epicenter.

Cal was the newest member of the San Diego Police Department’s K-9 Unit, and wasn’t it just his luck that although San Diego was one of the California cities least prone to earthquakes, it had been hit by a massive one. He’d heard that the quake was 7.6 on the Richter scale. He could see the devastation all around him as he approached Incident Command. An elevated section of the highway had collapsed, and portions of the road surface had heaved and buckled. A rippled concrete parapet wall leaned precariously over the roadway. Two low-rise buildings and a parking garage had also collapsed.

Cal pulled into the cordoned-off area that had been designated as Incident Command, and parked behind another SDPD vehicle.

Cops, firefighters, paramedics and panicked civilians were everywhere.

Cal recognized Riker, another officer with the department. He was in a huddle with a tall, plain-clothed man and a firefighter. Cal surmised that the man in plain clothes was the incident commander. He left Scout in the vehicle and went to join them. Introductions were made; he’d been right about the third man. His name was Williams and he was in charge.

“It looks bad,” Cal remarked. “Do we have any idea of the numbers yet?”

Williams shook his head. “Too soon to tell how many injuries and fatalities we’ll have. The fact that it’s late on a Friday afternoon might work to our advantage.” He jerked his head toward the collapsed structures. “They housed offices mostly. Let’s hope a lot of the workers cut out early.”

Cal scrutinized the buildings. One had collapsed in on itself. Most of the floor appeared to be intact, if skewed. Best-case scenario, the people inside had time to find shelter near the load-bearing walls and would have survived. The condition of the other building was far worse. A couple of the lower floors had crashed down on top of each other. There couldn’t have been much room for people left inside.

Cal heard Scout’s muffled bark and knew his partner was anxious to get to work. He was always impressed by how intuitive police dogs were, sensing when they were needed. “Is it safe to go in?” Cal asked the commander. He’d done lots of search-and-rescues in the five months he’d been in San Diego and in his decade on the job with the Lincoln Police Department in Nebraska before then, but he’d never had to deal with an earthquake before. Sadly, there was a first time for everything.

“I think they’re clearing it now.” The firefighter motioned to a group of men near the entrance to one of the buildings. “But there’s always the possibility of aftershocks.” He glanced over at Cal’s SUV, clearly marked as part of the K-9 Unit. “You plan to go in?”

Cal studied the buildings, considered the risks involved. He thought about Haley and forced the image of his little girl with her blonde ringlets out of his mind. She wouldn’t know if he lived or died. He shrugged. “It’s why we’re here. It’s what Scout and I do.”

The commander gestured to one of the men by the building “We’ve got the all clear.”

“Thanks.” Cal shook hands with Williams, Riker and the firefighter before jogging to his vehicle. He opened the back door and signaled for Scout to jump out. Scout yipped excitedly and Cal took a moment to rub the dog’s head and ruffle his fur, then attached his leash to his collar. Knowing it would be dry, dusty work and with no idea how long it would be before they could take a break, he gave Scout a drink from a water bottle.

With another hand signal, he alerted Scout that he was now officially on duty, and they headed toward the collapsed buildings and the men gathered on the roadway in front of them.

* * *

JESSICA HANSEN HAD been at Ocean Crest Hospital when the earthquake hit. Because of its severity, the hospital had immediately activated its critical incident response plan, including the deployment of the trauma team. The trauma team was responsible for onsite triaging and treating the injured, and dispatching those who needed additional care to the hospital. As a trauma surgeon, Jessica would’ve been called in regardless, but being at the hospital made it easier for her to mobilize a team and get to the site.

Ocean Crest was the closest hospital to the earthquake’s epicenter, where most of the injured would be, and no more than a few miles from where they were setting up the triage area. A 7.6 quake was virtually unheard of in San Diego, but as a trauma doc she’d experienced quakes of a much lower magnitude that still had significant consequences. She knew this would be serious.

Thank heaven the hospital itself was largely unaffected by the quake. But then it had been designed to higher standards to ensure that it did. From the reports already coming in, they’d need all available resources, both human and physical.

In the hour since Jessica, the other trauma docs and a few of the emergency room nurses had set up at the designated triage site, she’d already seen at least a dozen people, and there were many more waiting.

She swiped impatiently at the sweat and loose strands of hair on her forehead as she finished splinting an elderly man’s badly fractured forearm, and sent him off to the hospital.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she counted slowly to ten. She had to stay sharp, she reminded herself. She couldn’t be unsettled by the young boy she’d treated and sent to the hospital just before the older man. The boy had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. Her vision blurred and she swallowed hard against the nausea. If she gave in, she’d be no good to anyone.

She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. “You okay, Jess?”

Jessica slid her clammy hand over her brow and turned. Marcia Rodrigues stood behind her, the furrows on her forehead more pronounced than usual, concern evident on her face. The gray-haired nurse, now in her sixties, had worked in the emergency room at Ocean Crest longer than Jessica’s thirty-one years, but they’d formed a strong bond—both professional and personal. “It was the boy, wasn’t it?” Marcia asked.

Jessica passed her hand lightly over Marcia’s. “Yes, and thank you. I’m okay now.” She glanced around. “Did anyone else notice?”

“No. Of course not. I just know you well.”

Jessica was certain that her episode and the subsequent exchange with Marcia took no more than a minute. But a minute could mean life or death in a crisis situation. She silently berated herself for her lapse. After all, this was why she’d given up pediatric surgery in favor of trauma. If she couldn’t maintain her composure under these conditions, she had to ask herself if she was fit to practice medicine at all.

Jessica barely had time to finish the thought when Marcia brought her the next patient. It wasn’t a child; she knew Marcia well enough that she didn’t think she’d be seeing more children that day, but she was still relieved.

But she was in charge. She shouldn’t have to be protected.

Most importantly, she could not, would not, fall apart. “Focus, Hansen,” she ordered herself under her breath as she examined the mangled leg of the woman in front of her.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_1beb3493-3f14-5587-b920-5e4186c38b64)

AFTER A GENERAL outline of strategy with the other first responders, Cal and Scout went to work. They started with the least damaged building first. They were gratified to have some quick wins—people relatively uninjured and easily extracted. They cleared the first building, then did a fast sweep of the perimeter of the other building and adjacent parking garage. When they were done, no fewer than two dozen people had been helped out of the rubble, most requiring only minor medical attention.

But now it was time for the hard work. Scout and Cal had to go into the more severely damaged building. Cal knew, too, that his unit mate, Hal Robinson, and his cadaver dog, Max, were on scene. Cal hated that. He and Robinson got along well enough, but he hated to lose a person to Robinson and Max. Cal wanted to find people alive and rescue them. It was still their turn, his and Scout’s. He intended to make it a slow day for Robinson and Max.

He and Scout now had to locate the people trapped deeper inside the building and likely requiring more assistance, whether because of injury or where they were. Those they’d been able to rescue said they had coworkers and friends still inside.

Cal and the other first responders had a quick huddle with the incident commander and the city’s engineers, and mapped out a course of action.

Cal gave Scout some more water, stroked the fur on his head. “Okay, pal. Ready to go?”

A short bark confirmed Scout’s willingness. Along with two firefighters, they headed off toward the more damaged building once more.

Since they couldn’t access the interior from street level due to the collapsed floors, they were lowered through the central core by a boom. The city engineers had advised Cal that the building was nearly identical in design to the other, with a central atrium, but in this case, the atrium had held and the floors had collapsed. It wasn’t going to be an easy rescue. Even after all his years as a cop, he still found it exceedingly difficult to deal with death. He hoped he wouldn’t have to encounter it today.

They were in the bowels of the building and had cleared an area that must have been a coffee shop. They headed to the next space when Scout alerted, and started to dig at an area where a doorway had collapsed. This was not a passive indication. There was someone trapped on the other side. Cal shone his headlight around. They were near the center of the floor plate where the building seemed to have crumpled. The upper floors had caved in. He couldn’t see any way into the area Scout had indicated. He ordered Scout to lie down and stay, dropped onto his knees where the dog had been digging and called out. In the relative silence he listened for a response. Gave it a moment.

Nothing.

He tried again. And waited.

Scout’s agitation was obvious. The dog sprang up despite Cal’s command and started digging at the rubble again. Scout’s training was such that he would’ve kept digging until he got through, but he would have injured himself badly on the shards of glass and other sharp edges in the debris. His behavior was a sure sign that there was someone in there. Cal ordered Scout to stand down again. Just when he was about to call out once more, he heard a noise. A cough.

It was a child. A young child. He called out again. Calmly, reassuringly, despite his fear.

He heard a couple more scratchy coughs before the sound turned into hiccupping sobs.

“Can you hear me?” Cal shouted.

After some soft sniffles, he heard a hesitant, “Yes.”

“Okay. I’m with the police and I’m going to help you.”

Cal heard whimpers this time.

“What’s your name?”

There was a pause, another sniffle. “Kayla.”

“Okay, Kayla. Are you hurt?”

“I... I don’t know. But my mom...”

“Your mother is with you?” Cal felt a chill permeate his bones.

“Yes. She...she’s sleeping.”

Oh, God. “All right, Kayla, try to stay calm, and I’ll get you out.”

“When?” she asked hesitantly. “It’s dark in here. I’m scared.” Her voice quavered. “And Mommy... Mommy’s sleeping. I can’t...can’t wake her up.”

“Listen, Kayla. I’ll get you out,” he repeated. “Real soon.” Cal hoped he could keep his promise.

He yanked his radio off his belt. “I’ve got a child here. Condition unknown. With her mother. She says her mother is asleep.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She hasn’t been able to rouse her. I’m betting unconscious.” He paused. “At best.” He flashed the light around. “It doesn’t look good down here,” he reported to Command.

“Can you get to them from where you are?” Williams asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“All right. We’re sending you help.”

“Make it fast. I don’t know how much time we have.” He was worried about the oxygen supply where the kid and her mother were. He had to do what he could to get some airflow in. He scanned the area around him and found a couple of metal scoops. Based on their size, he assumed they were decorative, but they could’ve been used for beans in the coffee shop. The good news was they were sturdy enough to be functional. He gave Scout another firm command when the dog started digging, then he used a scoop to clear away debris in an attempt to make an opening. All the while, he tried to keep up a conversation with Kayla.

His radio crackled, and the incident commander’s voice came on. “A firefighter is on his way down to you. Have you made any progress?”

“No.” He heard the frustration in his own voice.

“Can you get to her with help?”

He almost groaned from exertion and exasperation. He heaved away a large chunk of concrete. “I doubt it. Not from here,” he growled. He’d hardly scratched the surface.

“Do you have an update on her condition?”

Cal lowered his voice. “Alive. Other than that, I don’t know.” He moved away, just in case the girl could hear him. “Her voice is fading. I don’t know how much oxygen there is. The doorway here is sealed solid, and wouldn’t be a source of air for her and her mother.”

Cal heard some background chatter.

“Okay,” the incident commander said, “we’ve got the building plans. Let’s locate her so we can determine if there’s another way in.”

After a hurried conversation, they decided that the girl and her mother were likely trapped in an interior corridor, and the elevator shaft would be the only feasible way to get to her. The firefighter they sent in arrived while Cal was still on the radio.

“We’ll need you and your dog to help us locate her from the other end,” the commander said. “Come on out and leave Mark—” referring to the new arrival “—to keep the girl calm.”

“Ten-four.” Cal moved back to the doorway and signaled for Mark to join him. “Kayla?” he called out.

Nothing.

“Kayla,” he shouted, trying to keep the rising panic from his voice. “Can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh,” came the subdued answer. “I’m sleepy. I’m going to lie down and go to sleep with Mommy.”

Cal’s eyes locked on Mark’s momentarily, and he knew they shared the same fear. Kayla was running out of oxygen. “I know you’re tired, Kayla, but please try to stay awake for me, okay? Don’t move around but try to stay awake. Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.” The words were so faint they could barely hear them. They were slurred, too, which worried Cal greatly. She was close to losing consciousness, he was certain. And that was just one step away from... A vision of his sweet Haley flashed through his mind again. He began to dig furiously. No. He would not let Kayla die. Mark rested a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “You’re needed to locate her from the other side. Leave this to me now.”

Cal didn’t want to stop, but he knew the firefighter was right. “Okay,” he said. “Kayla, I’m going to come and get you, but I have—” he glanced at the badge on the firefighter’s shirt “—Captain Eagan with me. He’ll be here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes.” She’d clearly worn herself out or was already losing consciousness. She didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.

In hushed tones, Cal explained the situation to Mark. “You have to create an opening,” Cal said. “I doubt she has enough time for us to get her from the other side.”

Mark had both a pick and a shovel with him and continued where Cal had left off.

Cal signaled to Scout, and they went back in the direction they’d come. Outside, he met up with two more firefighters and a building engineer, and was directed to where they could access the elevator shaft. The elevator had failed in its normal mode with the counterweight plummeting, meaning the elevator itself was at the top of its trajectory, so the shaft was clear. The two firefighters entered the building with him, and he, Scout and one of them were lowered down the shaft to the ground floor. With the firefighter’s key and some effort, they were able to open the elevator landing doors.

Cal could immediately see what had happened. As he’d suspected, when the floors of the building had collapsed, they’d blocked off the entrance to both corridors leading off the lobby. The entrance to the corridor where Kayla and her mother were trapped looked even less accessible from this side.

Cal feared that if the corridor was the only way to get to Kayla, they wouldn’t reach her before she ran out of oxygen. He had to believe that with the tools Mark had, he’d be able to create an opening sufficiently large for air to get in. When Cal gave Scout the hand signal to locate the girl, Scout bypassed the corridor entrance altogether. The rubble must have masked Kayla’s scent. In seconds, he was barking and scratching along what would’ve been a side wall.

Hope surged through Cal as he and the firefighter rushed over to where Scout was digging. They might still have a chance. He instructed Scout to move back and wait, and squatted to get a better look. A structural column had collapsed, and the beam it was supporting had tumbled down on top of it, but there was a small triangular opening at its base. The gap was filled with crushed concrete and other debris, but it appeared to be loosely packed. Cal and the firefighter worked feverishly to open up the space. If the little girl had depleted the available oxygen, every second counted.

The time seemed interminable, but it actually took them less than a minute to create an opening under the column. The good news was that air was now flowing freely into the space. Cal hoped fervently it wasn’t too late.

Crouching down by the opening, he shouted, “Kayla, it’s Cal. Can you hear me?”

There was no response. No sound of movement.

He called out again, then asked the firefighter to radio Mark Eagan on the other side to see if Kayla was still communicating with him. Lowering himself to his stomach, he tried to crawl into the gap. He could aim his flashlight in, but there was no way his shoulders were going to fit.

The firefighter reported that Kayla had been non-communicative for nearly five minutes.

That sent a chill up his spine but, he wouldn’t give up on her.

He considered the small opening. It would be tight, but Scout should be able to crawl through, he decided. Before giving the dog commands, he shouted, “Kayla! I’m here and I’m going to get you out, like I promised. I’m sending my dog in to get you. His name is Scout and he won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid, okay?”

Still no response. The firefighter shook his head dejectedly, but Cal refused to accept that they were too late.

Although search-and-rescue dogs generally didn’t perform extractions, Cal had made it a game with Scout during training. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was Kayla’s only chance right now and worth a try.

He removed Scout’s collar; he didn’t want to risk having it get caught on something in the tight space. If that happened, both Kayla and Scout would be trapped. He gave Scout the play signal, and pretended to throw a toy into the opening. The shepherd cocked his head and looked at Cal questioningly. Cal pointed to the opening. “Go get her, Scout,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could. “Go on. Go get her.”

Scout obviously understood there was no toy involved, but crawled into the void on his belly. Down on one knee, Cal continued to aim the flashlight into the space and listened intently. He heard scrambling as Scout must have reached the cavity on the other side. A series of staccato barks indicated to Cal that Scout had located his target. He heard more scrambling, then Scout was backing out through the opening. From the way he was laboring, Cal knew he had the little girl. If only the child was still alive.

As soon as Scout’s back end cleared the opening, Cal gave him the command “out” to release. The dog been dragging the girl by the hood of her sweater, which luckily had been buttoned up in the air-conditioned cool of the building.

Cal handed the flashlight to the firefighter and wriggled in as far as he could to get hold of the little girl under her armpits, gently pulling her out. Once she was clear of the opening, the firefighter checked her for vital signs. Nodding to Cal, letting him know she was still alive, he started rescue breathing.

Cal felt an immediate sense of relief. His next priority was to locate Kayla’s mother—or anyone else who might’ve been trapped with them. He signaled to Scout again, and said silent thanks when he heard the little girl cough behind him. He knew the firefighter would take care of Kayla and have her lifted out. His focus was now on the mother.

Cal illuminated the cavity with his flashlight. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see anyone, or anything of significance. But he assumed from what Kayla had told him that her mother was in there somewhere, unconscious. He tried again to get his shoulders to fit through the opening. It was a no-go.

“Palmer,” the firefighter called to him.

He backed out of the opening. “Yeah. What?” he snapped in frustration.

“We need you here.”

Cal’s irritated gaze met the other man’s.

The firefighter gestured to Kayla. “She needs you.”

Cal glanced at the girl with her long black hair and huge dark brown eyes, and everything in him softened. The kid couldn’t have been more than four or five. It was obvious that she was making a heroic effort not to cry.

Cal squatted down in front of her.

“Mommy...?” she croaked, tears shimmering in her eyes and spilling over to trail through the grime on her cheeks.

“Kayla, your mother was with you?” He pointed toward the opening. “In there?” She’d already said so, but Cal hadn’t been able to see anything, nor had he heard any further noise from inside.

The child swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “Uh-huh,” she said before she started to cough once more.

The firefighter offered her some water from his flask. She took a sip, gagged, then coughed again as Cal patted her back. “You’re okay,” he reassured her. “I’m going to look for your mother. We need to get you out of here.”

“No!” The word exploded from her and she grasped his wrist with her small hand. “I want my mommy.”

“We’re going to get her next, but you have to go out of the building.”

“No. I don’t want to. I want Mommy.” She thrust out her lower lip.

“You have to. Your mother would want you to be safe. This man will take you out and I’ll look for your mother.”

“Can’t the other man get Mommy?” Her chest was heaving and she clutched Cal’s arm harder. She was obviously near her breaking point.

Cal glanced up at the firefighter, who shrugged.

“That’s why I called you. She wouldn’t leave. She wanted you.”

Cal gripped Kayla’s shoulders and stared into her tear-drenched eyes. “I’m going to look for your mother now.”

She started to sob and threw herself in Cal’s arms. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to go without Mommy. Or you.”

Cal held tight, clasping one hand over the back of the child’s head, smoothing down the tangled, matted mass of dark hair. He assessed the circumstances quickly and decided the extra couple of minutes it would take him to lift the girl out would likely make no difference to her mother. Air was getting in. If the woman was unconscious, she wouldn’t run out of oxygen. And if it was worse...well, he didn’t want to think about it.

A loud grinding noise reverberated around them—metal abrading against metal—as if the building was settling. Cal and the firefighter froze, waiting for the noise and the vibrations to cease.

“I’ll take you out, but after that you’ll stay with this man, so I can come back for your mother.”

She sniffled a bit, then nodded, her head resting against his shoulder. “Okay.”

Cal rose, with Kayla in his arms. They made their way over to the hoist and the firefighter radioed to let them know up top what was happening. They decided the firefighter should go first. He would take Kayla to the triage area once Cal got her out. Cal ordered Scout to wait. The firefighter was lifted out, then the harness was lowered again. Cal strapped himself in. Holding Kayla firmly against his chest, he wrapped the final harness strap around both of them. He signaled for the crew to start the extraction.

As they began to move, the little girl held on tight, her arms wound around his neck, her face still buried in the crook of his neck. They ascended slowly and cleared the building. He blinked rapidly to adjust his eyes to the late-evening sunshine, blinding after the darkness inside.

He wondered fleetingly how the sun could shine so intensely with all the destruction below, but he didn’t have long to dwell on it. They were swung away from the opening and Cal unfastened them, handing Kayla to the firefighter.

Just as Cal was strapping himself back in, he felt a strong breeze and spread his legs to brace himself. Even so, when the building beneath him shook, he was nearly knocked off his feet.

“An aftershock,” he heard someone yell, and the building shifted, then tilted perilously.

This time Cal did lose his balance. Landing on his backside, he was catapulted down the inclined rooftop headfirst. The harness he hadn’t fully secured snapped free. He tried to twist around as the edge of the rooftop rushed toward him. He managed to turn enough so that he wasn’t leading with his head when he hit the parapet wall. He lay still for a few moments to catch his breath. His left shoulder screamed but he didn’t think it was broken. He hoped it wasn’t dislocated, either. Nothing else seemed to hurt enough to worry about.

People on the rooftop and at street level were shouting and rushing about. Cal unfolded himself and, bracing against the parapet wall, he rose to stand on the steeply sloping rooftop. He took one quick glance over the edge and knew that if the parapet wall hadn’t been there or hadn’t held, it would have been game over for him.

He pushed that thought aside and turned to search the area for the firefighter and Kayla. They were huddled together against the railing by the rooftop stairwell and looked unharmed. His next thought was of Kayla’s mother and Scout. He had to get back into the building. Massaging his shoulder, he walked at an angle along the steeply sloping roof toward the elevator shaft opening and the hoisting mechanism.

“Let’s get this done,” he said to the firefighter operating the hoist as he strapped himself back into the harness.

“You aren’t going down there.”

“Darn right I am.” He gestured toward Kayla. “Her mother is down there, and so is my dog.”

“I don’t have permission to let anyone back in.”

“Then get it,” Cal snarled, forestalling any further argument.

The firefighter had a hurried conversation on his radio with the incident commander, and shook his head. “No go. The building might be unstable now and they’re worried about another aftershock.”

Cal cursed under his breath and yanked his own radio off his belt and contacted Incident Command. “Yeah, I have to go back in,” he said. “Why? Because there’s a person still in there. The mother of a child I just brought out. Yes, I realize she’s probably deceased. And Scout—my partner—is down there.”

“Your partner is in there?” the incident commander boomed into the radio. “Have you contacted him? Is he okay?”

Clearly Williams had forgotten that Cal was with the K-9 Unit and his partner was a dog. Cal ran a hand over his hair. He didn’t bother to set him straight. “I have to go in.”

“No.”

“I have to—”

“I said no.”

“But—”

The voice on the other end became more human, less like the commanding officer at a serious incident. “Look. I understand your position, but we have no idea if anyone still down there is alive. It was a significant aftershock, and the building shifted considerably.”

“Yeah. But I have to make sure.”

There was a long pause. “No. It’s too dangerous. We haven’t ascertained the structural integrity of the building, and the probability of another aftershock is high. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it. I can’t clear you to go in.”

Cal heard the click of the radio disconnecting and was tempted to hurl the device over the edge. Instead, he glanced around. He saw the firefighter who’d been in the building with him preparing to take Kayla down to street level on the articulated boom lift of a fire truck. She was holding on to him, her chin resting on his shoulder. When his eyes met hers, she raised a hand and waved to him, and he was sure her mouth formed the word mommy. That decided it for him. He had to go in. He’d promised her he’d go back to find her mother. The odds might be against it, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Kayla’s mother was still alive.

And he wouldn’t leave Scout.

There weren’t many people left on the rooftop, and those who remained were in the process of making their way back to street level.

Soon it would be him and a firefighter who’d been helping with the hoisting mechanism. Cal didn’t know where the firefighter he’d argued with had gone, but this guy was young—no more than twenty-four or -five—and in the process of dismantling the contraption.

“Hey!” Cal called as he did his best to jog up the slanted roof toward him. “Hold on a minute. I need to go back in.”

The kid looked around, seemingly confused. “I was told no one else is going in. I’m supposed to wrap up here and get off the rooftop.”

“Well, I have to go back in.” When the kid just stared at him, Cal sighed. “Hey, my partner’s in there...”

“Your partner?” The kid sounded horrified. “But we lifted everyone out before the aftershock hit. We tracked everyone going in and out.”

Cal’s mind was made up. He doubted he could do anything for Kayla’s mother; he had to face reality. But Scout was still down there, his condition unknown. He was going in, with or without Command authorization, whether this kid was going to help him or not. He raised himself to his full six feet two inches and tried to look intimidating. “I don’t have time to argue. You saw that little girl?” The kid nodded. “Her mother’s down there. I don’t know what kind of shape she’s in, but I can’t leave her without determining her condition. What if she’s still alive? You want to tell that little girl that we abandoned her mother to die? And my partner is the search-and-rescue canine hoisted down after me. I’m not leaving him, either.”

“Okay,” the kid said hesitantly, and reached for his radio. “I’ll just get it cleared.”

Cal shot out a hand and placed it over the kid’s, held his gaze. “You’re not going to get clearance. I’ve tried and Command refused it.”

“But...”

Cal felt the guilt trickle through him. It was one thing for him to disregard a direct order from Command, especially with the blot on his past. It was something entirely different for him to coerce someone else to do so—and that someone still young and inexperienced. “Look—” he checked the kid’s nametag “—Adam, I’m disobeying an order by going back in, but I have to do it. Like I said, there’s no way I’m leaving my dog. And I want to verify the condition of the girl’s mother. I owe it to Kayla to make sure. What if she is alive and I can save her?”

Cal examined the ropes and pulleys of the hoisting mechanism. His voice was solemn. “I don’t want to implicate you in what is essentially insubordination. Go. But if you could leave this stuff behind, I’d appreciate it.”

Cal could see that Adam was trying to work things out in his own mind. When Adam spoke, his voice was a little shaky but he seemed resolved. “You can’t do this on your own. I’ll help you.”

“You understand what it means if you do?”

Adam nodded.

Cal had a silent debate with himself. He was involving the rookie in something that could cost the kid his job, his career. But he acknowledged that he needed Adam’s help. If sparks flew, he’d just take all the heat, accept all the blame. He’d say he’d pressured the kid. It would be even worse for him, but Adam would get written up for a mild misdemeanor without the risk of losing his job.

“Then let’s do it,” Cal said.

The elevator shaft no longer provided a straight vertical descent. Their progress was slower and Cal had to guide himself down, using his feet to push away from the obstructions and around protruding structural elements. They couldn’t use their radios or they’d be discovered; they communicated by a prearranged sequence of tugs on the guywire.

When Cal reached the third floor, he could no longer follow the elevator shaft. The force of the aftershock had created a hundred and thirty-five-degree elbow in the passage. He was lowered through the elevator door opening, directly into the tilted two-story atrium of the main lobby. When he emerged from the elevator shaft, he was suspended a good twenty feet above floor level. Two thoughts flashed through his mind. First, that the space had shifted considerably with the aftershock, just as he’d been warned. And second, that Scout was nowhere in sight. As his feet touched the floor and he unbuckled himself, he swept his gaze around the room and called Scout. Relief flooded through him when he heard the short, sharp barks signaling the dog’s location. Following the sound, he could tell that Scout was in the same cavity from which they’d rescued Kayla. He must have tracked the scent back to Kayla’s mother, but the opening they’d cleared was blocked again.

“I found you. You’re okay!” Cal called to Scout as he rushed over. Fortunately, the opening, enlarged by the way the building had skewed during the aftershock, was blocked only with loose rubble. When he removed it, the dog bounded out and directly to Cal. Scout’s coat of black and brown was covered with so much concrete dust he looked nearly white. Even his eyelashes and whiskers were coated in white. While Scout licked Cal’s face and pranced around, Cal did a quick exam to satisfy himself that the dog appeared to be unharmed. He took a moment to reattach Scout’s collar, and instructed him to sit-stay.

Because of the enlarged opening, Cal was able to shimmy into the cavity on his stomach, using his elbows to propel himself, his flashlight gripped between his teeth.

Sweeping the beam of light around the confined space, he saw her, lying on her back. Her face was stunningly beautiful. Dark olive skin, delicate features and the long cascade of ebony hair, so much like her daughter’s. His throat clogged and he had trouble breathing. He crawled over to her to check for vitals, but he was certain it was just a formality.

He understood why Kayla would have thought her mother was asleep; she must not have noticed—understandable with the absence of any light filtering in—that her eyes were open. She had one arm slung above her head and the other extended at her side. The way her hand was positioned and her fingers curled, Cal concluded Kayla would’ve been holding it.

The woman looked flawless and uninjured from her abdomen up. A portion of the collapsed wall lay across her lower torso. The black jacket she wore appeared to be soaked in blood. None of it would have been evident to Kayla in the dark. Thankfully, the child would not be haunted by images of her dead mother for the rest of her life.

There was nothing Cal could do for her. This woman would now be the responsibility of the coroner. He made another thorough sweep of the area with his flashlight, then backed out through the opening.

He signaled to Scout, ordering him to do a quick search to make sure they weren’t leaving anyone behind. The dog didn’t give any indication that there was anyone else present.

A light vibration had Cal bracing himself again and grabbing for Scout’s collar. The rumble passed and he exhaled.

Back in the atrium, he strapped Scout into the hoisting harness and tugged on the guywire, signaling to the firefighter to lift him out. When the harness came back down, Cal secured himself in quickly, and gave the two tugs to let Adam know he was ready. He could hear the winch kick in and he began his slow ascent.

He was almost at the top of the atrium, nearing the elevator shaft, when he felt what seemed to be a gust of air whoosh down the opening. Simultaneously, the building shuddered again, and Cal started to swing and twirl on the hoisting rope. With the next tremor, he was catapulted toward a solid interior wall. He leaned back to try to control his motion and was able to maneuver sufficiently to cushion the impact with his legs when he collided with the wall. The force sent him hurtling backward. Just as he was twirling around once again, another rumble came from the ground beneath and seemed to rise up to engulf him. An ominous grating sound followed.

Cal’s blood ran cold as he watched a ceiling beam tear loose to his right. Still anchored to a column by some rebars, it crashed toward him like a battering ram.

He thrust back and as far out as possible, and flailed his legs to increase the swing of the rope. Unable to control his spin, he was propelled in the opposite direction from the one he’d intended, right into the path of the beam.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d4526021-4078-5fa6-ad78-31cf4b8f2479)

JESSICA ACCEPTED THE scissors from Marcia and snipped off the ends of the surgical thread she’d used to suture the long gashes on the face and neck of a middle-aged man. She thought about how close one of the lacerations had come to the man’s carotid artery, and how different the outcome could have been.

“You’re going to be fine, Mr. Bowen,” she assured him. She cleaned another cut on his left arm and applied a gauze bandage. “You’ll have some scarring unfortunately. Treating the wounds with vitamin E cream while they’re healing will minimize the effect.”

“Fortunately, my wife loves me for more than my pretty face.” He smiled weakly as he pulled his shirtsleeve back down.

“There’s no need for you to go to the hospital, but your family doctor should have a look at that wound in a couple of days. Nothing to worry about. I just want to make sure you don’t develop an infection. Your stitches will have to come out in a week’s time.” She gave him an encouraging look as she removed her latex gloves and tossed them in a waste receptacle.

“Thanks, Doctor,” he said as he slid off the treatment table. Their smiles faded as they watched two paramedics carry a black body bag to a waiting transport vehicle. “I’m lucky to be alive,” he murmured.

Yes, he was, Jessica thought. She made some hurried notes on a chart and glanced up in time to see Marcia taking a little girl from the arms of a firefighter. She felt a chill descend on her and a voice inside her head screamed, “No!” Still, she did a quick visual scan of the girl for obvious signs of trauma, and was relieved to find none.

The girl was maybe five. She was wearing lemon-yellow shorts and T-shirt, and had a small white sneaker on her left foot and only a white sock on her right. She had long dark hair. Her hair, like the rest of her, was covered in concrete dust.

Jessica noticed Marcia looking around fretfully, and she knew the nurse was searching for another trauma doc who could attend to the little girl so she wouldn’t have to.

Jessica sighed. Hadn’t she vowed earlier not to let herself be protected? What kind of trauma surgeon was she if she couldn’t deal with any patient that came her way? She could feel the anxiety build inside her—tempting her to let Marcia find another doctor.

No, she wouldn’t give in.

“Marcia,” she called. “I’m done here. I can take her.”

She could see the reluctance in Marcia’s eyes as she approached with the softly crying child in her arms. “Are you sure?” The worry was evident in her voice, too.

Jessica almost snapped that of course she was sure. Knowing full well the anger was directed at herself and not her colleague and friend, she swallowed the harsh words. She hadn’t realized she was wound so tight. She understood that Marcia was trying to help...and she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t without good reason. “Yes, I’m sure,” she responded with a calm she didn’t feel. “But thank you for trying to look out for me.” She forced a cheerier tone into her voice as she reached for the young girl. “Who do we have here?”

Marcia helped Jessica position the girl on the exam table. “Her name is Kayla. She said it’s Kayla Hernandez,” Marcia supplied when the child remained silent, staring at Jessica with large somber eyes brimming with tears. “She said she can’t find her mother, Marina Hernandez,” she added in a whisper.

Jessica hoped the child’s mother was all right. She smoothed the matted hair back from Kayla’s forehead and did another quick perusal, still not seeing any discernible injury. “How old are you, Kayla?”

“I’m five,” the girl said, holding up her hand with all fingers and thumb spread. Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with more tears. “Where’s my mommy?”

Jessica gave her a tissue and she blew her nose, while Jessica cast a questioning glance at Marcia. The nurse indicated with a slight shake of her head that she had no knowledge of the woman’s whereabouts.

“I’m certain people are looking for your mother, but for now I’m going to listen to your heart and check your temperature, okay?”

She could handle this, Jessica told herself. After all, the little girl appeared fine, and she appealed to the powers that be that she wouldn’t find any sign of internal injuries.

* * *

THE I-BEAM HURTLED toward Cal. His trajectory, swinging from the hoist rope as he was, would put him directly in the path of that beam. He caught an interior column with his right foot just enough to shove back and marginally away from the beam as it crashed by him.

A searing pain ripped through his right thigh, so intense he couldn’t stifle a yell. He glanced down. The jeans he’d been wearing when he was called in were torn open and a deep, angry gouge welled with blood. He pressed a hand to his thigh in an attempt to ease the pain and control the flow of blood, but neither seemed to subside. Balancing unsteadily on the hoisting harness and trying not to jar his injured leg, he yanked off his T-shirt. He used it as a tourniquet for his leg. When he tightened it, the pain tore through him again.

The rumbling gradually subsided, and the building around him groaned as it settled. Cal held his breath, praying there’d be no further collapses. When it seemed the structure had stabilized, he gave the guywire a couple of tugs, hoping the firefighter was still up top and uninjured—and the hoisting mechanism was operational. When nothing happened, he tugged again.

After interminable minutes, he reached for his radio. If Adam had been hurt, he’d have to come clean with Command about what he’d done. Williams would be displeased but they’d send someone to get him out. There was no way he could climb up with his injured leg.

His movement caused the harness to tilt and he reflexively used his legs to balance himself. The pain that shot through him caused his body to jerk. He grabbed for the rope to keep from falling backward, and the radio went spiraling down to shatter on the ground.

Cal cursed himself as he waited for the agony to subside, and tried to assess his options. He couldn’t jump down. He was over two stories up, and even with two good legs it would’ve been dangerous. With his right leg in such bad shape, he’d be breaking bones and probably his neck. He couldn’t scale the rope, and there was nothing around him he could swing to, to help him climb up or down.

Without his radio, he was stuck with no way to communicate to the outside world.

Still, he’d have to try to pull himself up the rope somehow. There was no viable alternative. He had a strong upper body—thanks to rigorous workouts to stay in shape, a requirement for his job—but it was a long way up. He tested his strength by reaching up and pulling on the rope. If he got into the elevator shaft, which wasn’t that far above him, he might be able to...

As he suddenly dropped three feet, he held on tight with both hands.

Twirling again from the force of the drop, he didn’t know what to make of it. He was terrified to move. If his testing of the rope had caused the plunge, he didn’t want to chance it again. He was still more than twenty feet above the ground. As he’d already concluded, it was unlikely he’d survive a twenty-foot drop.

When he felt the rope give again, he held on, closed his eyes and thought of Haley, certain he was about to fall to his death.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_18b54296-e748-5289-9bd0-680dbf4f16ee)

CAL’S EYES FLEW open when he felt himself rising, slowly but steadily.

Holding the hoisting rope with his right hand, he used his left to keep himself from careening into protruding obstructions as he ascended through the elevator shaft. Soon he could see the night sky above and he was clearing the top of the shaft.

Adam was reaching for him. “Sorry, man. The aftershock caused a piece of siding to get stuck in the flywheel. I had to lower you manually and clear it before I could hoist you...” His rapid-fire speech halted as he steadied the harness and helped Cal balance on the roof. “What happened to your leg?”

“An I-beam.” Cal looked around, saw Scout running toward him, unharmed. With a hand signal, he got him to drop down and hold his position. The last thing he needed right now was an enthusiastic greeting from his dog. He looked at his thigh, too, as he carefully put most of his weight on his left leg. “I was able to get out of its way, or mostly. Otherwise, I’d be even more of a mess.” Taking in the rusty marks on his blood-soaked jeans, he added, “It must’ve been a piece of rebar sticking out that sliced through me. How bad was the aftershock?”

“It could’ve been a lot worse, but it might not be the last. They’ve confirmed that the quake was a 7.6. No wonder we’ve had so much damage. Well, let’s get you down and checked out.” Adam threw his arm around Cal, and Scout followed at Cal’s side.

“We’re in for it,” he said to Cal as he assisted him into the bucket of the articulated lift. “They know what we did. When the aftershock hit, I had to report in. This—” he pointed to Cal’s thigh “—isn’t going to help us. I don’t think you’ll be able to play the sympathy card. Williams is really pissed.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

The boom lowered Cal and Scout to street level. With no other way to get there, Adam helped Cal hobble over to the triage area on one leg. Excruciating pain shot through him each time his right leg moved, let alone if his foot inadvertently touched the ground. They advanced slowly, in stark contrast to other people still rushing around.

“Do you know how the little girl, Kayla, is?” Cal asked, head down, watching for trip hazards on the pavement as they neared the medical area.

“You can find out for yourself,” he responded. “She’s with a doctor right now.”

Cal looked up and saw Kayla sitting on a makeshift examination table. The little girl held hands with an older woman who was crouched down in front of her and was obviously consoling her. Another woman in scrubs was examining her.

Kayla’s clothes were filthy; her hair was matted and dirty and tucked behind her ears. But there was no denying whose daughter she was. In the overhead lights, he could see she was a miniature version of her very beautiful mother.

Cal wondered if they’d had a chance to contact her father yet. He hoped that knowing his daughter had survived would alleviate some of the grief the man would feel when he learned about the death of his wife. And Kayla had lost her mother. It occurred to Cal again that if he’d been the one to die, his little girl, Haley, wouldn’t even know it.

As they approached the doctor, he really looked at her for the first time. He felt an immediate and visceral tightening in his gut. It astonished him, especially under the circumstances. The devastation around them, his severe pain and his view of relationships—yet there it was, no denying it.

She wasn’t classically beautiful. Not like Kayla’s mother. She was tall and lithe. On the slim side. Her face was a little longish, dominated by huge wide-set eyes; he couldn’t discern the color. Her nose was average, her mouth perhaps a bit too wide. But there was something about her that just grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. Then there was the hair. Pulled back in a ponytail, untidy and sweaty as it was, he could tell it was a thick, heavy, straw-colored mass.

The thoughts running through his mind made him suspect he’d hit his head without being aware of it. After Anna, he wasn’t interested in women. His reaction to the doctor annoyed him, and it showed in his demeanor.

“How is she?” Cal asked irritably and without preamble as they reached the triage area. Silver-gray eyes shot up, the doctor’s gaze meeting his.

* * *

JESSICA NARROWED HER eyes as she glared at the man standing before her, shirtless and leaning heavily on the shoulder of a firefighter. His simple question sounded both gruff and belligerent. Her gaze dropped to the well-muscled chest and arms, before sliding lower and seeing the makeshift tourniquet, understanding why he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Marcia,” she called, keeping her eyes on the man but a steadying hand on the girl. “Can you please get Mr....?” She looked at the man inquiringly.

“Palmer. I’m a cop. Or just Calen. Or Cal.”

“Marcia, please help Officer Palmer sit down and get the weight off that leg and check his vitals until I can see him.”

“I asked how Kayla was,” he repeated, unmoving.

At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and her crying eased. Her eyes brightened for the first time since Jessica had seen her. “Cal,” she squealed, twisting sideways and raising her skinny arms up for him. He obliged her with a hug. “You’re hurt,” she exclaimed.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Where’s Mommy?” Kayla asked, trying to see around the cop.

“Let’s worry about that later, okay?” he said evasively. “How’re you?”

Jess was shocked by the complete transformation in his tone and deportment, but sadly she could see the answer to Kayla’s question in his eyes.

“Dr. Hansen says I’ll be fine.” She reached back for Jessica’s hand. Jess took it in her own and gave it a squeeze. For a moment, they formed a unit—linked through the child. For some reason, that realization made Jessica uncomfortable. She slid her hand out of Kayla’s and placed it on the little girl’s knee to get her attention.

“Yes, you’ll be fine, Kayla. But just to make sure, I want you to go to the hospital. Get checked out. Okay?” She’d triaged Kayla as “delayed.” Her injuries were likely relatively mild, concussion being the most serious concern, but she needed to be examined more thoroughly for possible internal injuries.

“Um. ’Kay. Will my mommy be there?”

Jessica met Cal’s eyes again over the top of Kayla’s head. The man was an enigma. His eyes were filled with anguish, and Jessica surmised that she’d been right—he knew more about Kayla’s mother than he’d said. She was worried about how the girl would handle the bad news and wanted to postpone it, at least until she had family with her. “We’ll see,” she murmured, and rethought her course of action. “But Mrs. Rodrigues,” she said, turning to Marcia, “will go with you. How about that?”

“Okay.” Kayla sounded unsure. “Can Cal come with me, too?”

“Unfortunately not.” When Kayla’s lower lip protruded, Jessica rushed on. “I need to examine him, too.” Jessica looked at Calen’s injured leg and Kayla’s gaze followed. She saw the distress on the little girl’s face and drew Kayla’s attention back to her. “But you might see Officer Palmer there. And Marcia—Mrs. Rodrigues—will be with you.”

“But...” Marcia began, and Jessica turned imploring eyes on her.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Jessica spoke in a hushed whisper. “We’re not finished here yet. Well, we nearly are.” She touched Marcia’s arm. “And this little girl needs you.” She dropped her voice even further. “If the cop’s face is any indication, she just lost her mother.”

Jess could see Marcia’s internal struggle. It showed in every line of her face, in the depth of her eyes. She understood that Marcia probably feared she was getting too involved with this child. But how could she not? Kayla’s mother had almost certainly died in the earthquake.

“Please,” she entreated.

“Fine.”

Kayla was still grasping Jessica’s hand and didn’t seem to want to let go. Jess gave her hand a tug. “You’re going to the hospital now, and Mrs. Rodrigues will go with you. The doctors there will do some tests, but Mrs. Rodrigues will stay with you the whole time.” She looked at Marcia, who nodded resignedly.

“And my mommy?”

“Let’s get you taken care of first, okay?”

“Will you be there? Will you do the tests at the hospital?”

“No, I won’t, but if you’re still there when I get back, I’ll come see you.” Jessica could have bitten off her tongue the minute the words were out of her mouth, and she could see the disapproval on Marcia’s face. She would not see Kayla at the hospital. She was a trauma surgeon. She’d chosen that field so she could treat patients and then be done. No attachment. No follow-up.

Kayla nodded. She hugged Cal again, and let Marcia lead her away.

Jessica turned to her next and apparently last patient, the man leaning heavily on the firefighter who’d helped him to the triage area. At first she’d wondered if he might have been Kayla’s father, but she’d quickly dismissed that thought. If he was, he would’ve said so. He was injured, but she sensed that wasn’t all that contributed to his surliness. A hard day all around, she supposed.

She took in his tall, muscular frame, his brown hair, ocean-green eyes, the jeans and absence of a shirt, the strong face with the slightly crooked nose, the frowning mouth. She noticed the dog by his side for the first time. She loved dogs and knew them well, having grown up with them. This one was a beauty. A near-black shepherd, although his coat was covered in dust. From the size of him, probably a king shepherd, with large paws and alert, intelligent, appraising eyes. He had to be a police dog.

“You’re next.” Jessica gestured to the cop to sit on her exam table.

The firefighter helped Cal shuffle over. “I guess I’ll be seeing you later over that...matter that’ll need to be addressed,” he said.

Jessica saw the cop’s expression soften again as he patted the firefighter on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Adam. I’ll take care of it.” He held out his hand. “Thanks,” he said as they shook hands.

The moment the cop turned his attention back to her, Jessica felt uncharacteristically self-conscious in her baggy scrubs. The anger was back in his eyes, but Jessica had no idea why she seemed to elicit hostility from him. It had to be her, though, since there’d been no sign of it when he’d interacted with the girl or the firefighter.

Her only concern with the cop, she reminded herself, was dealing with his leg wound and getting him to the hospital. She snapped on a new pair of thin blue gloves. “How did this happen?” she asked briskly. If he could have an attitude, so could she.

“As I said, I’m a cop.” He pointed to the dog. “Scout and I were part of the rescue team.”

Jessica checked Cal’s vitals, as Marcia hadn’t had a chance to do it, and focused on his injury. The wound looked bad. He had every right to be angry, she decided. Tired, too. She wasn’t feeling much friendlier herself. She’d been at it for hours now, all through the night, and the number of injured was significant. That could excuse his surliness, but it didn’t explain why it seemed to be directed at her.

“You rescued Kayla?”

He nodded.

Jessica turned to the tray behind her for a pair of scissors. “Kayla’s mother died in the quake, didn’t she?” She turned back in time and knew the answer before he vocalized it. She saw the sorrow flash across his face, cloud his eyes. Jessica met a lot of cops as a trauma unit doctor and while taking shifts in the emergency room. She knew it was a hard job and they saw unimaginable horrors, and yet she worried most about the ones who seemed to have become hardened against it. This one didn’t look like a rookie, but he wasn’t calloused, either.

“And the father?” she asked as she removed the makeshift tourniquet around his thigh and began to cut away the soiled denim. She tried to sound casual, all the while berating herself. Here she was, still worried about Kayla, and she knew too well what that could lead to.

Cal shrugged. “No idea.”

“Okay.” Jessica tried to force Kayla out of her mind. The little girl would probably be gone by the time she got to the hospital and she’d never see her again. That was the way she wanted it. “How did this happen?” She repeated her earlier question as she continued to cut away the jeans, noting the dirt and rust stains on the denim. “Exactly?”

Cal gave her a short account.

Jessica paused, glanced at the beautiful German shepherd sitting quietly next to the table, completely focused, not missing a thing. She found herself reassessing her opinion of the cop. “You went back into the building following the aftershock to get your dog?”

Cal leaned over to drop a hand possessively on Scout’s head. “I needed to ascertain Kayla’s mother’s condition, too, but yeah. Scout’s my partner. I couldn’t leave him. By the way, do you have any water I can give him?”

“Sure.” Jess considered the tough exterior of the cop as she poured some water into a plastic container. He came across as harsh and surly, but he clearly cared about kids and dogs.

She’d worked with enough cops to know that police dogs were considered a tool by the department, and she’d never understood how their handlers could spend so much time with their dogs and think of them that way. Obviously this cop didn’t. There had to be a soft center under that hard shell.

She expected she’d have done the same thing. Gone after the dog, if he was hers. But then again, she tended to lead with her heart. That had been her downfall as a pediatric surgeon, and likely would’ve made her a lousy cop, too.

With the full shift she’d put in at the hospital before she was called out to the field, she was worn out. It was hardly surprising that her mind kept wandering; still, she needed to focus.

She had to clean the wound and apply a temporary dressing for pressure before she sent the cop off to the hospital. He’d probably gotten dirt and rust deep in the wound, and that concerned her. She’d clean it the best she could, but he’d have to be looked at. They were out of local anesthetic in the field because they’d treated so many people. As nasty as the wound was, she had to clean it. She knew it would hurt, but she couldn’t wait until fresh supplies arrived.

“How’d you break your nose?” she asked, trying to distract him as she peeled back more of the denim that was stuck to his leg.

“It happened when I was a kid,” he responded tersely.

“How?” she persisted.

“I was teaching my brother karate.”

“Yeah?” She wanted to keep him talking.

“I was showing him how to split a board. Frankly, he sucked at it. Drew was always a geek.” She detected the smile in his voice, but the affection, too. “I was holding the board for him when our mother called us for lunch.” He chuckled. “I lowered my arms. Drew took his shot. For once his aim was right on, and he connected with my nose, where the board would have been.”

When she glanced up at him, he was grinning. There wasn’t any resentment, which surprised her. The hard, angular lines of his face were transformed by the appealing, almost boyish smile. She was tempted to shake her head. She must really be exhausted if she was thinking how attractive one of her patients was. “You’re kidding?”

“No. It’s true.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, but went back to her task. “This is going to hurt,” she cautioned. “There’s not much I can do about it. We’re out of anesthetic.” She looked up again. His smile had faded, and he nodded. He knew what was coming and seemed ready for it.

Even so, as soon as she started to clean the wound with the iodine-based cleanser, he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

At Cal’s obvious agony, the big dog sprang up and let out a throaty, menacing growl directed at her. It all happened so fast. Cal was still absorbed by the pain and hadn’t noticed, but Jess was well aware that most police dogs were trained to protect their handlers. That was obviously what the shepherd was intent on doing. If she showed fear or appeared to be a threat, she suspected the dog would attack her. She only had an instant to consider. She took a step toward the dog, drawing her shoulders back. The dog bristled, growled and stood his ground but didn’t advance.

Calm, assertive, she reminded herself. “Sit,” she ordered in a no-nonsense voice, using her hand to reinforce the command. The dog glanced over at Cal, who was still preoccupied with his pain. The dog cocked his head and hesitated, but Jessica didn’t back down. He made an oddly human huffing sound. Still alert, still on guard, he nonetheless obeyed her command and plopped down. His eyes remained watchful and trained on Jess.

Jessica exhaled. The dog must not have perceived her as an imminent threat to the cop, or he wouldn’t have listened to her. Still, she was relieved that she hadn’t been attacked by him in the process. He was a beautiful dog, but large and she had no doubt those shiny white teeth could mean business if he was provoked.

Turning her attention back to Cal, she saw astonishment on his face, and something else. Could it be respect from the cantankerous cop?

He eyed his dog. The dog angled his head and waited. “Down,” he ordered, then looked back at Jessica. “I can’t believe he responded to you. How did you do that?”

She couldn’t resist the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. “He’s your dog. You tell me.”

The dog was lying down with his head between his outstretched paws, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two of them. “Obviously he didn’t think you intended to hurt me,” he murmured.

“I’d appreciate it if you could assure him of that. I’m going to continue to clean your wound, and I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“Scout, stay. Friend,” he added.

“Now can we get back to this, if... Scout, is it?”

He nodded.

“If Scout doesn’t object?”

Jessica worked quickly and efficiently to clean the wound and apply a temporary dressing. She tried not to be distracted by the large dog. She could see from her peripheral vision that he was watching her every move. She’d shown him who was alpha, but he was the cop’s dog, and based on his earlier reaction, she supposed he’d protect his handler if he thought she was hurting him. She was glad the cop was taking her ministrations stoically, and was thankful he handled the pain as well as could be expected. She didn’t want to test her mettle against his dog again. She knew he must have been in excruciating pain while she cleaned the wound, but after the initial outcry, the only sounds he made were deep hissing breaths during the worst of it. She didn’t take the time to look up at him, but she could see his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

“We’re done here,” Jessica said as she applied a bandage to Cal’s leg, tossed the blood-stained cloths into the waste receptacle and took off her gloves.

“Great. Thanks,” Cal said through gritted teeth as he slid off the table to balance on his left leg.

Jessica placed her palm lightly on his chest. “Not so fast.” She shouldn’t have been surprised at how firm his chest felt under her fingers. She was tempted to keep her hand there, but pulled it back quickly.

“Why?” Cal asked, testing to see if he could put weight on his right leg, only to wince and nearly collapse.

Jessica gave him a humorless smile. “Well, that, for one. I doubt you’ll be able to put weight on that leg for the foreseeable future. It’s not just a surface wound. It’s a fairly deep soft-tissue injury. I wouldn’t rule out that you might have chipped some bone, too. Worst-case scenario, you might have fractured your femur. In any case, you’ll need crutches, and you’ll have to stay off the leg for at least a couple of weeks.”

Cal threw her an annoyed look but she continued. “Secondly, you need to go to the hospital. Not just for an X-ray to determine if there is a fracture. The rebar that gouged you was dirty and rusty. I cleaned your wound as well as I could here, but it’ll have to be cleaned more thoroughly and there’s no telling whether some of the rust and dirt might have gotten into your bloodstream. That would mean you’ll—”

“Yeah. I know. Have to watch for sepsis.”

Jessica nodded. “Correct. So, you’ll be making a trip to the hospital.”

She could feel him watching her as she made notations on the chart.

“I don’t have time to go to the hospital.”

She raised her eyes and gave him her best authoritative look. “Before you argue that point, tell me when you had your last tetanus shot?”

“Cops have to get regular shots. You should know that.”

“I do, but that doesn’t answer my question.” Since there was no reply, Jessica glanced up again.

“I don’t know. A few years back.”

Having completed the charting, she put down the clipboard. “Would a few be more or less than five years?”

Cal threw his hands skyward in annoyance. Scout immediately sat up, ears pricked. Cal sent him a hand signal and calmed himself. “I don’t have time for this. I have work to do.”

“Unless you want serious complications, you will make the time.” Cal’s brows drew together in a menacing V. Before he could say anything, she raised a hand. “I wouldn’t send you to the hospital if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. We’re going to be swamped, and I want to make sure we provide care to those who need it most. You understand the triage process, correct?”

The V deepened, but he nodded.

“I triaged you as ‘urgent.’ You know that means you need medical attention at Ocean Crest, for treatment, stiches and—if you can’t be more specific about when you had your last one—a tetanus shot, as well. Finally, I want X-rays. As deep as that wound is and based on how it occurred, as I said I can’t discount a possible hairline fracture of your femur.”

“Okay. I get it.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys.

“You can’t be serious!”

“What?”

“You’re planning to drive yourself to the hospital?” She was incredulous.

“Yeah,” he responded, hesitancy in his voice. “I can drive.” He sounded a bit like a petulant child.

“Right. Try again to put some weight on that leg. Your right leg, I might add.”

Cal’s brows remained furrowed and he kept his eyes on hers—the green even brighter now than when she’d first locked eyes with him. She knew the instant he put some weight on the right leg, because he squeezed his eyes closed and his mouth formed a hard, straight line.

She reached out to steady him as he wobbled. “You were saying?” A hint of humor crept into her voice. She couldn’t help being a little smug. She was tired, cranky—and she was only human. “I know you’re a tough guy, but even you have your limits. Here’s an ambulance now. They’ll take you.” She signaled to the paramedic.

“Wait. What about Scout? They won’t let me take him in the ambulance, will they?”

Jessica frowned. She hadn’t thought of that. “No. That’s not possible.”

“I can’t leave him in my vehicle. It’s going to heat up again. It’s got a temperature-activated cooling system, but during the time I’ll be in the hospital, the truck will likely run out of gas and power.” He reached for the holster on his belt and found it empty. He looked around, apparently searching for someone. Police department personnel and other first responders at the site were still rushing around, all of them occupied in dealing with the aftermath of the earthquake.

He looked back at Jessica. “I need help.”

“You just had it. The hospital needs to take over now.”

“No. That’s not what I mean. Not medical aid. I need your help with Scout.”

She bent down, let Scout sniff her hand. “May I?” she asked. When Cal nodded, she rubbed his head. “In what way?”

“Well, I can’t take him to the hospital with me. I can’t leave him in my truck here in this heat. I lost my radio in the building and, as you can see, everyone from the department is busy.” He made a sweeping motion toward where the frenetic activity still continued. “I can’t impose on them.”

Jessica continued to stroke Scout but looked up at Cal. “What about someone else? A volunteer, maybe? Someone who lives close by? A friend?” She broke eye contact and turned her attention back to Scout. “Aren’t you a handsome boy,” she murmured. “So smart and handsome.”

“It won’t work,” he said, replying to her question. “Police dogs have their behavioral idiosyncrasies due to their specialized training. They need firm alpha handlers. Scout’s no different. I only moved here recently. Besides the other cops, I don’t have friends close enough for me to turn to.” He was silent for a moment. “How about you?”

Jessica glanced up at Cal. “Me? What about me?”

“Would you take Scout until I’m done at the hospital?”

“That’s impossible.”

“You said you were finished here.” A smile spread across his face, and Jessica felt an uncharacteristic pull of attraction. That was totally inappropriate with a patient, she chastised herself.

“You’ve already proven you can handle Scout,” Cal continued. “And Scout’s demonstrated that he’s willing to accept commands from you.” He chuckled. “Not a common occurrence for a police dog.”

Jessica straightened. At her full height and in her comfortable work flats, she was only a few inches shorter than the cop. She gaped at him. “You’re asking me to take Scout home with me?”

The smile faded. “Well, you’re not giving me a lot of options, Doc, triaging me as ‘urgent.’ So, yeah.”

She started to shake her head, but he broke in before she could speak. “I have no other alternative on such short notice. You triaged me, treated me and said I have to go to the hospital. If I can’t get someone to take care of Scout, that’s not happening. I’ll just have to drive myself and Scout home, using my left leg.”

She’d been working the better part of nineteen hours now. She just wanted to get a few hours’ sleep before she was due back at the hospital. She didn’t have time to deal with a rude, pushy cop. Jessica was tempted to call his bluff, but then she remembered what had gotten Cal into this predicament to begin with. He had saved people, including the little girl, Kayla. He’d risked his own life to rescue Scout. If he cared that much about his dog, she had no doubt that he’d follow through on his threat and try to drive. If anything happened to him and the dog as a consequence, she would blame herself. She swiped impatiently at her bangs to get them out of her eyes.

She nearly agreed, then realized what she was about to do. Get personally involved and care too much about another patient. Granted, this patient wasn’t a child. And, okay, it was actually the patient’s dog. But she was a trauma doc. Her job was done. Cal could figure out what to do himself. It seemed impossible that he didn’t have anyone to turn to, someone from the police department certainly, but it wasn’t her problem.

Then Cal gave a soft command to Scout. “Ask nicely.”

To Jessica’s astonishment, the big dog sat back on his haunches and raised his forelegs in the air. He crossed his front paws, tilted his head and whined in a manner that sounded a lot like “Please.”

Jessica chuckled. “That’ll get the bad guys to drop their guns and surrender.”

“Just wait. Scout, say your prayers.”

The dog bowed his head, and covered his eyes with his front paws.

Jessica laughed outright.

“How can you say no to that?”

Jessica crouched down again and scratched Scout’s ears. “I’m sure I’m going to regret this, but okay.”


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_d18d0aae-697a-56f8-b3a8-15fc7c2f8fb9)

CAL RESIGNED HIMSELF to the fact that he had to go to the hospital and needed to be transported by ambulance. The doc had been right; there was no way he could drive. He couldn’t even touch the ground with his right foot without agony. Since there were no crutches available, one of the paramedics had to help him hop over to the ambulance. Getting in the vehicle was no easy feat, either.

“Hell of a night,” the paramedic commented to Cal as they made their way through the broken streets to Ocean Crest Hospital. The sun had just started to rise.

“Yeah.” Cal gazed out the window. He absorbed the chaos and destruction around them as they sped toward the hospital. Having lost his radio in the building, he hadn’t been able to hear the reports. Now he listened to the scanner in the ambulance as the salient facts were recounted.

The Rose Canyon Fault ran in a north-south direction through San Diego County. But it had never been a major concern, to the best of his knowledge, because San Diego was relatively low risk for earthquakes. The fault was known to be capable of generating a 7.0 magnitude quake, with 8.0 at its upper range.

The quake they’d experienced was nearly at the fault’s limit. Cal knew that anything above 7.0 was considered a major earthquake, likely to cause serious damage. Anything over 8.0 could totally destroy communities near its epicenter.

As he continued to survey the damage, he could readily grasp how extensive it was. Even so, it could’ve been worse. There could’ve been a lot more damage...and many more casualties. The quake had been felt across great distances—as far away as Los Angeles, he’d heard—with damage mostly limited to a hundred and fifty miles from the epicenter. And the death toll? An update stated it could have been in the tens of thousands, but they’d been fortunate to have had reported fatalities of less than a hundred.

And Cal had found one of those. He thought of Kayla and wondered who would tell the little girl that her mother was gone. Would it be the doc who’d treated both of them?

He couldn’t remember having the sort of reaction to a woman that he’d had to the doctor, not in a long time. Very long, in fact, as it would’ve been before he was married to Anna. He’d barely looked at a woman since Anna blindsided him by leaving, taking Haley with her. His brother, Andrew, kept telling him he had “trust issues.” It almost made him laugh. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out or what had caused it.

He realized he’d been unpleasant to the doctor and she’d done nothing to provoke it. He supposed it had been a combination of the day he’d had and an involuntary defense mechanism against his attraction. Even with his nasty attitude, the doc had agreed to take care of Scout. He had to hand it to her. He didn’t think he would’ve been as magnanimous if their roles were reversed. He reached into his pocket to make sure the slip of paper with her cell phone number was there, then tried to block both Dr. Jessica Hansen and his daughter, Haley, out of his mind. Instead, he focused on the havoc around them.

Although Cal was a seasoned police officer, a ten-year veteran of the Narcotics Unit of the Lincoln Police Department in Nebraska, he was relatively new to the San Diego Police Department. In his short time with the SDPD, he and Scout had successfully concluded a variety of searches involving missing children, lost hikers and wandering hospital patients. They enjoyed what they did and worked well together, but he hadn’t expected to deal with a catastrophe of this magnitude. What should have been a relatively quick drive to Ocean Crest was taking quite a while because of the damage from the earthquake and resulting traffic jams. With time on his hands, he let his mind wander back to what had brought him here to begin with.

Cal had a beautiful five-year-old daughter, Haley, and he’d been happily married—or so he’d thought. He’d been thrown for a loop—stunned, really—when Anna had announced over a year ago that she could no longer tolerate being the wife of a cop. Maybe the trigger had made sense, since her declaration was prompted by the ransacking of their home by an associate of a drug dealer Cal had been instrumental in apprehending. Fortunately, Haley and Anna weren’t home at the time, but the occurrence had pushed Anna over the edge. She wanted out of the marriage. Even so, Cal could never have foreseen the sequence of events that resulted in an internal police investigation of his conduct—and all ties with his little girl severed. Anna had not just taken Haley, but had turned their daughter against him.

He’d felt angry, bitter and alone, and that hadn’t changed in the time since. The last thing he’d wanted during the year that had passed was another relationship. No wonder he’d reacted the way he had to the doctor after feeling that treacherous pull of attraction.

The messy split from his ex-wife had left Cal swearing off relationships. And the internal police investigation into his conduct caused him anger and disillusionment with his job. So he’d resigned from the Lincoln Police Department and relocated to San Diego, for no other reason than this was where his brother, Andrew, a schoolteacher, lived. He hadn’t much cared where he went. With no hope of seeing Haley in the near term, he just wanted to start a new and solitary life.

With Cal’s experience and solid references, the San Diego Police Department offered him the position of sergeant in their Narcotics Unit, but Cal had had enough of that area of policing. He’d worked closely with the narcotics dogs in Lincoln and he’d actually started his career in search and rescue; because of that, he accepted a lower-ranking position as a search-and-rescue officer in the department’s K-9 Unit. The role suited him well, he mused. With his recent experiences he’d come to prefer animals to people.

The morose thinking had him in a nasty mood again by the time they reached the hospital.

The paramedic got him settled in a wheelchair and turned him over to the emergency room staff. Based on his condition and the site doc’s assessment, he was fast-tracked.

Since the medical staff had cut off what had been left of his jeans, a nurse was kind enough to give him a pair of scrubs. Lavender might not have been his color of choice, but it was better than parading around in his underwear.

When they were done with him, he gingerly pulled on the scrubs. Loose though they were, he still winced when the light cotton brushed across his bandaged right thigh. He toyed with the crutches before leaving the treatment room. On his way out the front door he halted, remembering he didn’t have his truck. It was still at the scene of the earthquake.

He mumbled an expletive and hobbled back to the information counter. The young blonde gave him a big smile as he approached. He didn’t have the time or the inclination for her flirting. He asked her, in a less than pleasant manner, to call him a cab. Her smile faded and, perhaps not surprisingly, she seemed to get some satisfaction out of telling him that because of the earthquake, it might take up to forty minutes for the taxi to arrive. With a brittle smirk, she suggested he have a seat in the waiting area, and pointed to a grouping of uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs. He was about to move away when he pivoted back.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” the receptionist asked without enthusiasm.

“A little girl was brought here from the earthquake site. Shortly before I was.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Her name’s Kayla.” He lapsed into cop mode. “She’s approximately three feet five inches, near-black hair, dark brown eyes. Probably four or five years old.”

The woman had turned to her computer but looked at him expectantly. “May I have her last name?”

“Oh.” He searched his memory. He hadn’t asked, but thought back to when he was waiting in the triage area. “Ah... Rodrigues? No, that was the nurse. Hernandez? Yes, it’s Hernandez.”

“Are you family?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry, but—”

“I’m a cop,” he interrupted. “I brought her out of the building that collapsed on her.” His explanation seemed to mollify the woman. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“Let me check...yes, she’s here. She’s been admitted...oh...”

“Is there a problem?”

“I was just checking family...” She looked up at Cal with a woeful expression.

“Are you saying they haven’t located any?”

The woman nodded.

“Can you tell me which room she’s in?” He gave her a brief smile. “It seems I have some time on my hands.”

Her smile wavered. “Pediatric ward. Room 4-235. The elevators are down the hall and to your left.”

As Cal shuffled in the direction the blonde had indicated, he felt discomfort in his chest and, with every step, a sharp pain in his shoulder.

He realized he must have sustained injuries beyond the obvious. Soft-tissue damage to his shoulder, probably when he’d hit the parapet wall on the rooftop, and maybe a cracked rib or two. Not much could be done about either, he mused as he adjusted his crutch to ease the pain.

He took the elevator to the fourth floor and found room 235. It contained four beds; three were occupied. The one closest to the door had a curtain drawn around it and Cal heard the murmur of voices. A girl, with her head, face and left arm bandaged, lay in the bed adjacent to it, her eyes closed. A man and woman clustered in chairs close to the bed, the woman holding the child’s hand. The man looked up at Cal, his face ravaged and grief-stricken, before turning to his daughter again.

On the farthest bed, next to the window, was Kayla. She had tubes and monitors attached to her. Other than that, she looked healthy and uninjured. Someone must have brushed the dust out of her hair, which was spread out, glistening, across her pillow. She wore a pink hospital gown with a teddy-bear print. Her head was turned away from him, toward the window. He could see her small chest rise rhythmically with her breathing.





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