Stranded. Debby Giusti

gurney pushed against the side of the ambulance. One man cleaned her hands and face and treated the scratches on her arms while the other took her vitals, checked her pupils and then applied an ice pack to the lump on her forehead.

      “You’ve got a slight concussion, but you don’t need hospitalization,” he said. “Is there anyone who can check on you through the night?”

      She shook her head. “I...I live alone.”

      “In Atlanta,” Frank volunteered.

      An Amish man stumbled toward the ambulance. Blood darkened his beard. The EMTs hurried to help him.

      “You’ll spend the night here in the Freemont area,” Frank told Colleen. Before she could object, he pointed to the one-story brick ranch visible in the distance. “My sister, Evelyn, owns the house on top of the knoll. There’s an extra room. You can stay with her.”

      “I...I need to get back to Atlanta.”

      “From the looks of your car, travel anytime soon seems unlikely. Downed trees are blocking some of the roadways and won’t be cleared until morning.”

      “Is there a bus station?”

      “In town, but you need to talk to law enforcement first.”

      The downward slope of her mouth and the dark shadows under her eyes gave him concern. She looked fragile and ready to break.

      “I...I don’t know your name,” she stammered.

      “It’s Frank Gallagher, and the dog’s Duke.”

      Her face softened for a moment as Duke licked her hand, then she glanced back at Frank.

      “You’re a farmer?”

      He shook his head. “I’m an army guy. CID.”

      Seeing her confusion, he explained, “Criminal Investigation Division. We handle felony crimes for the military.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a cop?”

      He shrugged. “More like a detective. What about you?”

      “Flight attendant.”

      “Hartsfield?”

      She nodded, indicating the Atlanta airport.

      One of the EMTs returned and pulled a bottle of water from a cooler. “I want you to sit up, ma’am, and drink some water. I’ll check on you again in a few minutes.”

      Frank pointed to the nearby fire truck. “You relax while Duke and I talk to the guys from the fire department.”

      Rounding the ambulance, Frank glanced at the road. A line of first responders and Good Samaritan townspeople had arrived to help in the rescue effort. The scene farther south was probably the same, with people flocking to the area in hopes of aiding those in need.

      Glancing back at Colleen, he was relieved to see she had closed her eyes and was resting her head against the side of the ambulance.

      Static played over the fire truck’s emergency radio. A tall, slender guy in his midtwenties stood nearby. He wore a navy blue shirt with the Freemont Fire Department logo and a name tag that read Daugherty.

      His face brightened when he saw Duke.

      “Nice dog.”

      “Daugherty, can you can patch me through to the local police?”

      “No problem, sir.”

      Once Frank got through to the dispatcher, he explained about the gunshot victim. “Colleen Brennan was the driver of the vehicle. She’ll be staying overnight at Evelyn Gallagher’s house.” He provided the address.

      “Everyone’s tied up with the rescue operation,” the dispatcher explained. “I’ll pass on the information, but be patient.”

      After disconnecting, he requested a second call to Fort Rickman.

      “Did you want to contact the military police?” Daugherty asked.

      “That works.”

      He connected Frank to the provost marshal’s office. After providing his name, Frank requested all available military help be sent to the Amish area.

      “Roger that, sir. I believe we’ve already received a request for aid, but I’ll notify the Emergency Operations Center, just in case. They’ll pass the information on to General Cameron.”

      “Any damage on post?”

      “A twister touched down. Some of the barracks in the training area were in the storm’s path. No loss of life reported thus far. The chaplain said God was watching out for us.”

      Frank wasn’t sure he’d give God the credit. If the Lord protected some, why were others in the storm’s path? “What about Freemont?”

      “We’ve got some spotty reports. A trailer park on the outskirts of town was hit with some injuries. A few shops downtown and a number of the old three-story brick buildings on the waterfront.”

      “The abandoned warehouses?”

      “That’s correct. We’re awaiting more details from the local authorities. The information I received is that Allen Quincy is heading the civilian relief effort.”

      “The mayor?”

      “Yes, sir. He’s asked for our help. We’ve called in all personnel. I’ll pass on the information about the Amish area.”

      “Let the Red Cross and medical personnel know, as well.”

      “I’m on it, sir.”

      “Do you have landline access?” Frank asked.

      “To main post only.”

      “See if you can contact CID Headquarters. Ask for Special Agent Colby Voss. Tell him Special Agent Frank Gallagher is at the Craft Shoppe, located at the northern end of Amish Road. We’re going to need him.”

      “Roger that, sir.”

      Colby’s wife, Becca, had been raised Amish. She knew the area and the local Amish bishop, but Becca was on temporary duty out of the state so Colby was the next best choice.

      He and Frank had joined the CID years earlier and had served together before. Frank could attest to Colby’s ability both as an investigator and diplomat.

      The Amish were a tight community and preferred to take care of their own. After the tornado, they needed help. Colby might be able to bridge the gap between the Amish and their English neighbors.

      Frank thanked Daugherty for the use of his radio. He and Duke returned to the ambulance in time to hear the EMT reassure Colleen.

      “Looks like dehydration was the problem, ma’am,” he told her. “Your vitals are better so you’re good to go.”

      “What about that lump on her forehead?” Frank asked.

      “She should be okay, especially if someone checks on her through the night.”

      “It’s nothing to worry about,” Colleen insisted as she hopped down from the gurney.

      Frank reached out a hand to steady her. She held on to him for a long moment and then nodded her thanks. “I’m okay.”

      “Ma’am, you need to take it easy for the next day or two,” the EMT cautioned.

      “And the gunshot victim?” Frank asked, his gaze flicking to the other ambulance.

      “They’re preparing to transport her to the hospital at Fort Rickman, sir.”

      “Not the civilian facility in Freemont?”

      “She was conscious long enough to give her last name. Her husband is a sergeant on post. Sergeant Drew Davis.”

      Frank didn’t recognize the name, but