Tremors. Debra WebbЧитать онлайн книгу.
Internal Memo: Jefferson Avenue Firehouse, Courage Bay
From: Chief Dan Egan
To: Captain Joe Ripani
Re: Madison Avenue parking garage collapse
Joe,
I’ve just finished reading the reports on the collapse of the Madison Avenue parking garage. You and your squad have done it again.
I should have your head for going in there alone the way you did, except I would have done the same myself. Lisa Malloy is alive today because of you, but just think twice before putting your life on the line like that. This job comes with risks on a daily basis, and I can’t afford to lose any of my team.
We’ll be having a procedural review sometime down the road, when we’re not so damn busy with all these follow-up calls. I want all the guys who were on duty for the Madison Avenue collapse to be present. I also want to make sure they know I’m aware of what a great job they’ve done.
I know you’re not one to rest on your laurels, Joe, but a lot of people owe you and your squad a heap of gratitude, and it was your dedicated rescue of Lisa Malloy that stands above the rest.
I may not say it often enough, Joe, but you’re one of the best.
About the Author
DEBRA WEBB
was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners and working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mysteries and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin Books came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, or visit her Web site at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Tremors
Debra Webb
Dear Reader,
The Code Red world is certainly an exciting one! I’m thrilled to be a part of it. I sure hope you’ll enjoy Joe and Lisa’s story.
Joe Ripani is my favorite kind of hero. A man who will plunge headlong into danger to save a life. A man who stares death in the face and defies the odds. There is only one thing that can strike pure terror in the heart of such a man, and that is love.
Lisa Malloy is a hero, too. She lives a quiet life and devotes her time to healing animals. Safe is all she has ever known. Can she possibly hope to hold her ground where a man like Joe Ripani is concerned?
Follow along on this bumpy road to true love. I think you’ll find the ride heartwarming.
Best,
Debra
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
THE GROUND TREMBLED.
Captain Joe Ripani of the Courage Bay Fire Department would recall later that it hadn’t felt like such a big deal. More like a Magic Fingers bed he remembered from a cheap motel on a family vacation when he’d been a kid. Just a little shimmy as the ancient plates far beneath the Earth’s surface groaned and complained and rubbed against each other.
Joe glanced from one member of his squad to the next. Everyone had stopped in the middle of his or her task and taken note of the slight vibration. But no one really looked worried. It was California, after all. A little earthly movement was expected from time to time.
Still, Joe had a bad feeling in his gut. That little tremble telegraphed a tension that crept up his spine, setting off a too-familiar flare of anticipation with each vertebra it climbed. Not good. Salvage, the firehouse’s big, black Labrador mascot, apparently had the same feeling. He went still, then whined fretfully.
A full fifteen minutes passed before the true disaster struck.
Jefferson Avenue Firehouse shook as the ground rumbled for an endless thirty seconds. Joe and his crew were already jumping into the necessary gear when the alarm sounded. By the time central dispatch passed on the location, the trucks were rolling out onto the street, sirens wailing.
Traffic on the streets of Courage Bay had come to an abrupt halt, with vehicles sitting haphazardly in the middle of intersections. Pedestrians were still running for cover, though the initial tremor had passed. They all knew that aftershocks could be every bit as lethal as the quake itself. And there would be aftershocks. For days, possibly even weeks, causing nothing more than minor distress, but all the while holding out potential for much, much more.
Joe’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel of the firehouse truck. So far, there didn’t appear to be too much physical damage. At least not that he could determine from the brief glances he afforded as he cut through the stalled traffic. No reports of fallen buildings, collapsed freeways or overpasses had rattled across the airwaves yet. But that assessment changed when he reached his destination.
The Madison Avenue parking garage had partially collapsed. Joe told himself that at two o’clock in the afternoon, most folks were likely safely tucked away in offices or the various shops that lined the downtown area. Lunch was long over. If he was lucky, the owners of the vehicles parked in the garage wouldn’t be anywhere near the collapsed structure.
The instant he skidded to a stop outside the damaged garage, he knew the situation wasn’t going to be that simple.
Dozens of pedestrians, co-workers and family members were crying out for help—loved ones or associates were trapped inside the building. A young woman, clearly pregnant, gripped several shopping bags as she frantically tried to explain to a police officer that her mother had gone for the car while she waited in a nearby boutique. Everyone seemed to be talking at once.
Blue lights throbbed and yellow tape fluttered in the breeze as a couple of cops worked to cordon off the area while half a dozen others struggled to hold back the panicked crowd of onlookers.
In the few minutes that had elapsed since the ground shook, Joe knew that a number of things had happened that the average person would not be aware of but would later be grateful for. Rescue resources had been dispatched in response to incoming calls. The first on the scene, whether paramedics, cops or firefighters, had assessed the situation and called for the additional resources needed. With this kind of disaster, the Incident Command System, or ICS, an emergency-management system used to coordinate personnel and equipment resources from multiple agencies, would be put in place.
But