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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.
