Storm Force. Meredith Fletcher

tonight.

      She pointed Tyler to one of the chickees and she took the other. Climbing up the slightly inclined ladder, Kate knocked on the door. “Mr. Iverson,” she yelled, hoping he could hear her over the rain.

      Rock-and-roll music blared from inside the chickee. They were watertight. She’d made certain of that when she’d constructed them, and when she weather-stripped them right before each rainy season. Maintaining the cabins, chickees and campsites was a lot of work, but it was work she felt good about.

      She banged on the door again. “Mr. Iverson!”

      This time the door opened. Clarence Iverson, the older brother, peered out at her. He wore thick glasses and had ginger-colored hair. He was in his late forties and had the kind of relationship with his two boys that Kate wished she had with Steven and Hannah. It was, she’d reflected a few times since dealing with the brothers over the last three years on their annual guy-trips, the kind of relationship she had with her dad.

      “Ms. Garrett,” Iverson greeted. Since the chickee was so low, he had to stay on his hands and knees.

      Behind him, two young teenagers sat up in their sleeping bags. There was little room for anything else in the shelter. Luxury was never offered or even mentioned when renting the chickees out. Both boys looked slightly worried.

      The gale winds slammed against the chickee, causing it to sway a few inches. Then thunder exploded again and Kate felt it vibrate through the wood beneath her hands.

      “You know I’m not one to complain,” Iverson said, “but you’ve really got to do something about these noise levels. I mean, blaring rock-and-roll at this time of night?”

      Both teens rolled their eyes and yelled, “Dad!”

      Iverson grinned at them. “Told you that you’d get in trouble playing music that loud. Man, your mom’s going to hate it when I have to leave you here in prison.”

      The mention of prison reminded Kate of her earlier encounter with the DOC bus. And the fact that the escaped prisoners, except for the dead one, were still in the area.

      Despite the situation, Kate grinned. The Iverson brothers were firefighters from St. Louis. They were good men, solid men. Men like her dad. If Kate was still interested in pursuing—or better yet, being pursued by—a man, that was the kind of man she’d want. Unfortunately, all the ones she knew were taken.

      And it wasn’t like she was looking. The last thing she needed was a man in her life breaking her stride. Steven and Hannah came first.

      “Mr. Iverson,” Kate said, “you’re going to have to leave.”

      Iverson looked at her then. Concern etched his face. “The storm?”

      Kate nodded. “Hurricane Genevieve. It turned. We’re right in its path.”

      Iverson shoved his head out into the rain. The chickee swayed threateningly again. “Looks worse than they were expecting.”