Colton First Responder. Linda O. Johnston

what’s happened here?” Grayson said out loud, pulling his SUV to the side and parking. He got out quickly, grabbing the medical bag he kept on the floor. He had earned his EMT certification, so he knew how to conduct more than the basics of on-site medical care that could be necessary to save a life.

      He also grabbed his large flashlight and used it first to check the ground as he approached the driver’s door of the van. He saw, as he got close, that the vehicle’s markings labeled it as belonging to the Arizona State Department of Corrections, the kind of van used to transport prisoners from one place to another.

      If so—well, first things first. He needed to make sure everyone had gotten out of the vehicle’s cab safely.

      Only...that wasn’t the case. In the bright glow of his flashlight, he immediately saw a man in what was left of the driver’s seat, covered in blood.

      Grayson’s EMT training immediately kicked into gear. He opened the door carefully and checked to see if he could remove the injured person from where he lay after disconnecting his seat belt, without having to get the tree off the van.

      Fortunately, he was able to.

      Unfortunately, after he gently laid the victim on the ground and began checking for vital signs, he found none. He nevertheless ran into his van and got the defibrillator, but still no response.

      Even so, he yanked his phone from his pocket.

      “911,” said a female voice nearly immediately. “What’s your emergency?”

      Grayson identified himself and quickly explained the situation, including the fact that he believed the person he’d found to be dead.

      “But in case I’m wrong—”

      “We’ll get someone there as fast as we can under the circumstances, Grayson,” the operator, Betty, said. “I promise.”

      “Fast” turned out to be about half an hour. Grayson couldn’t complain, particularly given the fact that there were likely to be a huge number of 911 calls that evening. Meanwhile, he attempted further CPR on the van driver—to no avail.

      An ambulance eventually appeared. The EMTs in it—two guys he’d met before—took over for Grayson, but their conclusion was the same as his.

      “We’ll take him to Mustang Valley General,” Sid said, while the other guy, Kurt, hooked the victim up to an IV. Necessary? Grayson doubted it, but hoped the man really was still alive.

      “Thanks,” Grayson said. “Keep me informed about how things go.” Or not. Did he really want to hear that he was right, that the falling tree had killed the man?

      Might as well, he figured.

      He took a few photos on his phone of the fallen tree and ruined van. And as the ambulance took off, he looked around further.

      He had already checked out the back of the van earlier, as he waited. The door was open, and there was no one inside.

      Did the open door mean someone had been incarcerated inside? Maybe.

      He’d walked around before the ambulance arrived and hadn’t seen any sign of someone else injured—or worse. But he felt obligated to check a bit farther now, just in case.

      At least he knew that ambulances were currently available, if necessary. But had there been someone inside the van’s rear area? Someone this now-deceased driver had been transporting? If so, was he or she okay?

      Grayson was not a cop. If whoever it was needed to be captured again, that wasn’t his job, although he could notify the Mustang Valley PD if he found him or her—most likely his sort-of best buddy there, Detective PJ Doherty; his brother Rafe’s fiancée, Detective Kerry Wilder; or even his cousin, Sergeant Spencer Colton. Though all were undoubtedly swamped right now.

      But if anyone had been inside the van and was now hurt and out there somewhere in the forest, injured and needing help—well, that was something Grayson intended to find out. He would remain careful, though. Anyone who had been in the back of that van was most likely a criminal and could be dangerous.

       Chapter 2

      Sitting on a wooden kitchen chair in the remote and damaged cabin she had somehow found here in the middle of nowhere, Savannah breathed slowly, carefully—pensively, for that was what she was doing: thinking, while staring at her hands clasped in her lap.

      Her unshackled hands.

      Where was she? She didn’t know. For the moment, at least, it didn’t matter.

      So far, the earthquake had somehow brought her good luck. There’d been a couple of aftershocks from the quake, but they’d been mild.

      Oh, she certainly hadn’t wished Ari the kind of harm he had suffered, notwithstanding the way he’d essentially ignored her. But at least she was free, for now and hopefully forever.

      Especially if she could find her louse of an ex and prove she hadn’t murdered him.

      But first things first. Tonight, she had at least located someplace to sleep, to bide her time till she decided what to do next. To ponder how to fulfill her promise to herself: find Zane, reveal his lies and treachery to the world, and return to as normal a life as she could.

      A cabin. She’d never have imagined there could be one way out here in the woods. She had hardly been able to see anything once she’d left the place where the van had been smashed. Frightened, yet determined to survive, she’d needed to figure out what came next.

      She’d heard a lot of animal noises around her and had nearly stumbled into a nearby lake before she’d found the cabin.

      Eventually, the moon—only a half moon—had appeared overhead and provided at least a small amount of light.

      And somehow, miraculously, it had helped her find this cabin. Lots of miracles, in fact, despite the fact that a portion of the cabin had crumbled because of the earthquake. But what was left seemed at least somewhat habitable.

      In the undamaged area, the door was locked, but she had pushed open a window and climbed inside. None of the switches turned on any light, so she found herself in near total darkness, with no electricity, evidently. That was thanks to the quake, or thanks to the owner’s turning it off before leaving. But she had nevertheless located a flashlight someone had left on one of the counters.

      Who and where was the owner? Were they coming back soon? That appeared unlikely, considering the location and the earthquake, but who knew?

      Fortunately, she had at least found no indication that anyone was living here now. Looking around with the flashlight’s illumination, she had seen some dust here and there, but some of it could have been caused by the quake.

      However, it seemed a nice enough cabin. There was even some furniture—a kitchen table surrounded by other chairs like the one she now sat on. A bed at the far side of the room with sheets on it. If she removed the sheets and turned them over, they should be clean enough for her to sleep on.

      Assuming she found herself eventually calm enough to fall sleep. Exhaustion wouldn’t help her accomplish what she needed to do tomorrow.

      But she also couldn’t forget that she was a fugitive. Once the van was found without her, she had no doubt that the authorities would be searching for her. She would have to remain careful.

      For a better idea of her current environment, she unlocked the door and walked outside, using the flashlight to look around. She aimed it carefully, mostly toward the ground, although she had no reason to believe any other people were close enough to see the light. A narrow dirt road that ended at this house hadn’t been affected by the caving in of part of the cabin.

      Where did it lead? Maybe she would find out tomorrow.

      She also looked at the area at the back of the house that was crumbled.