Colton First Responder. Linda O. Johnston

arrived. Now that he was awake and preparing to start his day, he kept thinking about her. A fugitive. One he couldn’t get out of his mind. Was he nuts?

      Maybe.

      “Okay,” he muttered. Today was going to be undoubtedly interesting. He stood and put his empty plate in the metal kitchen sink but carried his remaining half mug of coffee.

      He headed down the stairs after closing the door of his bedroom behind him and locking it.

      He drove to the First Hand office.

      When he arrived in the greeting area, he rapped once on each of their doors in order from the bottom of the steps—Pedro’s first, then Norah’s and Chad’s. He heard a low woof after that last knock and just smiled. Winchell, Chad’s K-9 companion, knew better than to bark here, even when on duty, but he was always alert.

      In moments, the gang had joined him in the reception area. They were all present here at the office, so apparently no additional calls had come in after the ones he had heard about last night, and they’d already accomplished the searches they had needed to do immediately after the earthquake, depending on their individual expertise.

      His employees greeted him with handshakes and pats on his back, as he did with them. “Good to see you all,” he said. “And I’m looking forward to your reports.”

      “We want to hear yours, too, boss,” Pedro said.

      There was a reception desk for greeting people who walked in off the street seeking help, against the far wall from the entry door. Plate glass windows circled the room—all intact, fortunately, after the quake, Grayson had noticed last night. The floor was laminate, and the walls beige drywall decorated with photos of successful rescue operations and waving people they had saved. Half a dozen blue upholstered Parsons chairs were arranged with their backs toward the windows, so the room’s occupants, if they spent any time there, could see one another.

      And there were a couple of extra doors to offices that could be allocated to additional staff.

      Grayson waved his bunch to the chairs so they could start their discussion. Once they were seated, he glanced beyond them to his view of the street. All seemed fine outside.

      His mind returned to the damaged cabin where he had left Savannah. Hopefully she remained okay—and there.

      “Okay, who’s first?” Grayson asked, putting that behind him for now and looking at Norah.

      “You, chief,” she said.

      “Nope. I’m last. So tell me your experiences with the quake and after.”

      Norah didn’t argue but leaned forward in her chair. Before joining First Hand, she had worked for the City of Phoenix as an EMT but always crowed about how she’d run right to Mustang Valley when she heard of Grayson’s start-up of a private first responder company a while back. She was well trained and a certified expert in emergency medical techniques, and was doing a great job with FH. She was thin yet very strong, and she kept her light brown hair in a style that framed her face.

      Most important? With her ongoing and always increasing EMT skills, she was excellent at helping to save lives.

      “I was right here when the quake hit.” She motioned toward her office door.

      Since not too much around there was damaged, she had hurriedly driven to Mustang Valley General Hospital. The staff there had immediately assigned her to ride in one of the ambulances, to assist the drivers and hospital EMTs.

      “Six different locations, and we helped over a dozen people, although their injuries were of different severities. Some weren’t too bad off, but there were maybe four that probably wouldn’t have survived if we weren’t there.” Her grin totally lighted up her slender face, and Grayson smiled back.

      “Great job,” he said, then turned toward Pedro. “Any fires?”

      Pedro Perez had been a firefighter in Las Vegas—but he’d informed Grayson when he’d hired him that he was excited about the opportunity to come to Mustang Valley and be the premier firefighter for FHFR. Pedro was dark-haired, large and muscular.

      “About five, across town. Only one was really bad, though. I heard about it in the news before heading there and helped the local fire department get it under control. They know me, of course, so they asked me to help with the rest. And after we got those out, I hung out with the gang at the station for a couple more hours just in case. I gathered that all the fires were electrical fires because the wiring in those buildings was badly damaged by the quake and aftershocks. And I remain on call now, too, with the department in case they learn of any other blazes.”

      “Excellent,” Grayson said. They all then turned toward Chad and Winchell, his German shepherd. “So—what’s your story, both of you?”

      Chad had been a K-9 cop with Tucson PD before coming to work for First Hand. He’d brought along his assistant Winchell, who was a certified search and rescue dog as well as a police K-9. He was moderate height and wore glasses, and always asked if Winch and he could do more.

      “There were a few reports of break-ins across town in the area where the quake hit worst—you know, the shopping area where stores are plentiful but not especially elite. I got a call from one of the dispatchers at the police department, and Winch and I headed there. We actually nabbed a couple of guys who dared to try to loot some damaged stores—those SOBs. Fortunately, they were scared of Winch, so we were able to turn them over to the PD.”

      Grayson intended to visit just such a shopping center soon, where he wouldn’t be recognized as a Colton by store owners and other shoppers. There he could hopefully find all the supplies and the cell phone he had promised Savannah.

      For now, he stood and approached each of his employees, reaching out his hand to shake theirs. “You know, when I went into this, opening a private first responders’ outfit, I wondered not only if I could succeed, but if I would be able to find assistants who were okay working in the private sector but do as well, or better than, first responders working for the official departments. Well, damn it, I did great in choosing every one of you.”

      “And we did great choosing you as our boss,” Norah responded.

      Both of the guys vocally agreed.

      “But we’re not done here,” Norah continued. “What did you find, Grayson?”

      Grayson trusted these people with his life. And with other lives, those they worked so hard to save.

      But did he dare mention he’d found Savannah?

      Maybe eventually, especially if he wound up needing their help. Plus, if he was found out and there were any legal ramifications against him, his staff could be affected, too.

      For now, he decided to be cautious. He sat back down and described finding the van and its deceased driver.

      “Was there anyone in the back?” Chad asked—not surprising from a former cop.

      “Apparently there had been at least one person there,” Grayson said, looking Chad in the other man’s dark brown eyes, which kind of resembled his dog’s. “But no one was in it when I got there, and though I looked around for a while to make sure no one was injured or otherwise needed my help, I didn’t discover anything or anyone that had to be taken care of or reported.” He’d phrased that in a way that remained sort of true, at least.

      “Sad,” Pedro said, “but I gather there weren’t a whole lot of injuries or deaths due to the quake. A lot of property damage in some locations, though.”

      “Like the older parts of town,” Grayson said, nodding. “I’m going to go take a walk around there soon and size up the damage—assuming no new information comes in requiring us to do any first responding right now. Meantime, I’d like each of you to contact the officials in your areas of expertise again just to confirm that all’s well for now, and to offer your services if needed, of course.”

      FHFR received most of its funding from the