Free Old Chaos (9781564747136) by Sheila Simonson Page A

Linda returned with Jake and Todd. They pried the door open, and Rob entered cautiously. He made the others wait outside. Everything was wet because most of the roof was gone, broken tiles on every surface.
    Boots crunching the fallen shards, he kept to the edge of the room, inching down toward the far wall. Tiles fell as he walked. When he reached the wall, he found Beth almost at once, knelt, and took her hand. She whimpered but clutched at his fingers with surprising strength.
    A roof tile had struck her head a glancing blow. A lump was forming, and there was a lot of blood. He touched the area gingerly, and Beth moaned. He felt no fracture but couldn’t be sure.
    She was stuck beneath a cart with a butcher-block surface, which she must have dived under when she heard the slide. A falling roof beam had jammed it against the electric stove. Really a small table on wheels, the sturdy cart had protected her head and upper body from the beam, but her left arm was now pinned between the stove and one cart leg. A big square piece of what looked like granite had fallen onto Beth’s legs. The counter? He heaved the slab off and examined her. Both legs were badly bruised. He thought one was broken, and there might be injuries he couldn’t see. That she was alive at all was a miracle.
    He smoothed her pink plush robe over the bruised legs. Her feet were bare. “Beth, we have an emergency here.” No kidding. “Can you tell me who lives in these houses, who’s likely to be at home?”
    She gave a distracted moan.
    “The Gautier house?”
    “Um, four.” She drew a ragged breath. “Husband, wife, teen-aged boy.” A gasp of pain. Her hand gripped his. “Mother-in-law. That’s the wife’s mother.”
    “Good. And the others?”
    “Hurts!”
    “I know, Beth. The medics are coming.” He felt like a torturer. “Am I right in thinking there are two empty houses to the west?”
    “Yes. And house sitter.”
    “What?”
    “House on the creek. Friend is house sitting. They’re in Palm Desert.”
    “Okay. What about the other house?”
    “Family of three.” She began sobbing with pain, so he let it go. A tile fell too near them for comfort.
    Linda was summoning the newly arrived EMTs and a stretcher, but there was still the problem of freeing Beth without bringing the rest of the roof down. At that point, as in noir comedy, one of the search and rescue vans drove in. Rob hated to leave Beth, even for a few minutes, but he needed to talk to somebody who knew what he was doing. Beth said she understood. As he left, he heard her crying. Against his better judgment, he sent Linda into the wreckage to hold her hand.
    The rescue leader turned out to be a prize. He not only had an extra supply of hard hats, he’d also brought the site plan Fred Drinkwater had filed with the county. He’d got it from Earl. Drink-water was still incommunicado.
    Rob explained what he knew to the search leader, whose name was Bat Quinn—as in Bat Masterson, he said. Bat was a high school teacher and a hiker. He knew the area. He also had three burly construction workers on his team. They agreed to take a look at the kitchen and see what could be done, while Bat, his dogs, and the rest of the team searched for survivors. Rob suggested starting with Peggy McCormick, because he knew roughly where she was. After that, the Gautier house. Then the house sitter and the family of three. He’d heard nothing from that direction. He hoped they’d all gone off to Mexico for the winter. It was unlikely.
    Bat set off toward the bedroom wing, eyes sparkling. One of the dogs, a beagle, was already snuffling the ground. Her trainer, a young woman in heavy hiking boots, let the dog pull her along. Rob felt his tension ease a little. He took a hard hat for Linda and put one on himself.
    Bat’s construction workers rigged supports so the EMTs could go in to Beth with their gear. Shortly after sunrise, Rob heard shouts from the bedroom wing that suggested the dog