Page 6 of Still Afraid

Chapter Two

An hour later, Chloe opened the back door of her SUV and snapped on Poirot’s leash. He didn’t necessarily need a leash since he had excellent recall and always wanted to be near her, but it made too many people uncomfortable to have a dog wandering around, even though he now had his SAR vest on.

With Poirot by her side, she met Josh at the back and they both flung their packs on. It hadn’t taken long to drop Breana off. The woman had barely been able to walk. She practically made Josh carry her to the front door, where he deposited her into the arms of her father, Richard. Chloe had swallowed the jealousy that crept up. Though Josh loved her and she had nothing to worry about, the woman’s clinginess made Chloe uncomfortable. She was also shaken by the tornado, but she was holding it together … only by the grace of God.

She sent up a prayer for Breana and moved toward the search-and-rescue trailer being unloaded. Since it was a Thursday, Brier Hollow Campground was probably not at full capacity, but it was still a beautiful June day.

Garson Yardley waved to them. “Oh good, you guys are here already. Do you mind helping set up?”

“Not at all.”

Josh shook Garson’s hand, and they all dove into setting up the easy-ups and tables. People missing loved ones and pets could report who they were looking for there. Another section would be for volunteers to check in and get assigned to a search team and area. It would be the home base for the entire operation.

Lance Cattigan, the third human on the K9 team, arrived, and Josh met him across the street.

Chloe removed a set of clipboards from the bin and arranged them on the table. The guys stood by Lance’s car talking for a few minutes before they joined her at the command center.

Lance came straight over and embraced her. “I’m so glad you guys are safe.”

She returned his hug, but the emotions of it all rushed at her like a tsunami. She stiffened and pulled back.

“You holding up all right?” Lance looked straight in her eyes.

She glanced away. “I will be. These people have a greater reason to be out of sorts. Let’s see how we can help.”

They officially checked in and set off. Their specific job was to walk the path of the tornado, looking for anyone and everyone, and to report people who were trapped so other teams could free them.

The sun now shone high above as if the skies had not just whirled death across the area.

The destruction of the campground was enormous. RVs lay flipped on their sides. One pressed up against the bathhouse. A group of men worked to move it. The bathhouse would have been the safest place for anyone during the tornado. The concrete building had taken a beating, but it remained intact.

Trees were ripped in half. Some yanked entirely from the ground. A few trees that had not been taken out by the tornado had tents, tarps, or other such gear hanging from the tips of the branches.

Chloe’s heart hurt. How many families had been here when it hit? Had many of them ventured off to hike and were somewhere outside of the tornado’s path? She prayed that was the case.

Even so, she braced herself for the reality that they were likely to face death as they trekked along, searching for whatever they might find.

Dutiful as always, Poirot trotted out in front of them, sniffing the ground, sniffing the air, roaming this way and that.

Chloe sifted through the rubble and found a leather-bound journal that appeared quite expensive. A set of initials—EJS—embossed in the corner of the deep mahogany-colored leather. This was important to someone.

Chloe compared the other items that surrounded the journal, but nothing else seemed as special. She unwrapped the cord and glanced inside. No name on the front page, but pages upon pages were filled with a sophisticated script.

Was it a man’s handwriting? It was gorgeous, but not feminine. She avoided processing what the words in front of her said to maintain the writer’s privacy. The pages looked yellowed and old, like it had been around for a long time. Would somebody be missing this journal? Probably. Should she leave it or take it?

It wouldn’t be too hard to find the owner through local Facebook pages. They often did that after disasters like this. They would post things people had lost that appeared valuable. Most of the time they were able to get it back to the person it belonged to or to a family member. That’s what she needed to do. This journal looked like more than a diary. She wrapped the cord back around the outside and tucked it in the front. Sliding off her backpack, she slipped the journal inside. She’d find its owner.

Poirot stopped his wandering, sniffed the air, and barked. He’d caught the scent of something.

Lance noted the location on the GPS, as was part of his role on their team, and they all followed Poirot’s lead.

He led them to a pop-up camper on its side and shoved against a tree.

Oh Lord, please don’t let anyone be in there.

Poirot sat beside the camper. He’d found something.

Josh ran ahead and joined Poirot. Chloe was only a few steps behind. Josh put his hand out to her. “Chloe, don’t—”