Stranded. Debby Giusti

      “Frank said there’s a bus station in Freemont.”

      Evelyn raised her brow. “You’re in a hurry to get back to Atlanta?”

      The question caught Colleen off guard. “As...as soon as possible.”

      Mentally weighing her options, she realized none of them were good. She couldn’t fly without her driver’s license and airline identification. Both were in her purse, buried in her car.

      She had planned on a fast trip to Freemont to gather the last bit of evidence she needed to send Trey to jail. Now Vivian was in the hospital, and Colleen was stranded in an area devastated by a tornado. To add to her situation, she was holed up with a law enforcement officer who made her uneasy.

      A tap sounded at the entrance to her room. She turned to find Frank standing in the doorway. He was clean-shaven and dressed in his army combat uniform. Maybe it was the boots he wore or the digital print of the camouflage that made him seem bigger than life.

      She needed to breathe, but the air got trapped in her lungs.

      “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up, sis.”

      “The sandwich is on the counter.”

      “You’re spoiling me.” Raising his hand, he waved to Colleen and then hurried toward the kitchen.

      “The sandwich,” Evelyn reminded him.

      “Got it,” he called before the front door slammed closed behind him.

      “Why don’t you wash up and come back to the kitchen for something to eat.” Evelyn motioned toward the hallway.

      “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

      “A bowl of soup might be good.”

      The woman didn’t give up.

      As if on cue, Colleen’s stomach growled, causing her to smile. “A cup of soup sounds good.”

      Once Evelyn returned to the kitchen, Colleen pulled back the curtain in the bedroom and watched Frank lower the back hatch on his pickup truck. Duke hopped into the truck bed and barked as if eager to get under way.

      Frank climbed behind the wheel. The sound of the engine filled the night. He turned on the headlights that flashed against the house and into the window, catching her in their glare.

      She stepped away, hoping he hadn’t seen her. Much as she appreciated Evelyn’s hospitality and grateful though she was of having a place to stay, Colleen worried about Frank’s questions and the way he stared at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

      After her sister’s death and her own struggle with the Atlanta police, Colleen wanted nothing more to do with law enforcement. Now she was seeking shelter in the very home of a man she should fear.

      Only she didn’t fear Frank. Something else stirred within her when he was near. Unease, yes, but also a feeling she couldn’t identify that had her at odds with her present predicament. She needed to leave Freemont as soon as possible, but until she retrieved her purse and the photo card, she had no other choice but to stay with Frank and his sister.

      Hopefully she wasn’t making another mistake she would live to regret.

      * * *

      A desire to protect her stirred deep within Frank when he saw Colleen standing at the window as he pulled his truck out of the drive. She had a haunting beauty with her big eyes and high cheekbones and the shock of red curls that seemed unwilling to be controlled.

      Did her rebellious hair provide a glimpse into who Colleen really was? She tried to maintain a quiet reserve, yet perhaps a part of her longed to be free like the strands of hair that fell in disarray around her oval face. That disparity between who Colleen tried to be and whom he had caught a glimpse of when she wasn’t looking gave him pause.

      Driving down the hill from his sister’s house, Frank thought of his own past, and the picture he had painted for his life, all with broad brushstrokes. At one time, he’d had it all and thought the future would provide only more positive moments to share with Audrey. He found out too late that she lived life on the surface and wasn’t willing to go beneath the false facade she had created.

      Frank had thought she understood about sacrifice for a greater good. He’d realized his mistake when she left him, unwilling to be tied down to a wounded warrior who had to face a long, difficult recovery.

      At this point, Frank didn’t know who he was. Too many things had changed that clouded the picture. He certainly wasn’t the same man as the cocky, sure-of-himself CID agent patrolling an area of Afghanistan where terrorists had been seen. Perhaps he had been too confident, too caught up in his own ability to recognize the danger.

      Not that he could go back or undo what had happened. He had to move forward. Donning his uniform tonight was a positive step. The stiff fabric felt good when he’d slipped into his army combat uniform.

      At least he looked like a soldier, even if he wasn’t sure about the future. Would he continue on with the military or put in his papers for discharge?

      A decision he needed to make.

      Headlights from a stream of military vehicles appeared in the distance when Frank parked at the barn. Two more ambulances from Freemont had arrived to transport the injured, and radio communication was up and running among the various search-and-rescue operations.

      A fireman with wide shoulders and an equally wide neck approached Frank. “Thanks for helping with the relief effort.”

      “How’s it look so far?”

      “At least twelve Amish homes and barns have been destroyed. Close to twenty people have been identified as injured. No loss of life, but we’re still looking.”

      “I heard Freemont had damage. A trailer park and some of the warehouses by the river.”

      “Might be time to clean out that entire waterfront,” the fireman said, “but the mayor and town council will make that decision.”

      Noting the approach of the convoy, Frank pointed to a grassy area between the Amish Craft Shoppe and the collapsed barn. “Can you get someone to direct the military personnel to that level area where they can set up their operations center?”

      “Will do.” The fireman called two other men who used flares to direct the military vehicles into the clearing.

      Frank saluted the captain who crawled from his Hummer.

      “Thanks for getting here in a timely manner, sir.” Frank introduced himself. “I’m CID, currently on convalescent leave, but I reside in the area and wanted to offer my assistance.”

      “Appreciate the help.” The captain shook Frank’s hand and then smiled at Duke. “Nice dog.”

      “He’s a retired military working dog. Duke lost his sense of smell in an IED explosion, but that doesn’t stop him from helping out when he can.”

      Frank passed on the information the fireman had shared about the damage and the injured.

      “I’ve got engineers who will check the structural integrity of the homes still standing once we’re assured all the victims have been accounted for.” The captain pointed to a group of soldiers raising a tent. “We’re setting up a field medical unit to help with the injured. That way the ambulances can transport those needing more extensive medical care to the hospital.”

      “The local fire and EMTs have a triage area you might want to check out, sir.”

      “Thanks for the info. I’ll coordinate with them.”

      The captain headed for the civilian ambulances just as Special Agent Colby Voss pulled to a stop in his own private vehicle, a green Chevy.

      He climbed from his car and offered Frank a warm smile along with a solid handshake. Instead of a uniform, Colby wore slacks and a CID windbreaker. “I thought you were