Whirlwind

“Yes, no images.”

He typed a few commands, and seconds later Kate’s story appeared on his laptop.

“Where’s it going?” he asked. “You can email it.”

Kate gave him the newsroom email address for filing stories.

“Type ‘Urgent from Kate Page’ in the subject line.”

Fitch angled the laptop to Kate.

“You go ahead, write what you need. Keep it short.”

She stepped inside, set her things down and typed:

No phone service at the flea market. WFGG let me use their satellite. Will file more soon, Kate Page.

After sending her story, Kate typed another email to her friend Heather in Ohio.

“Hey, what’s that?”

“Just letting my daughter know I’m okay.”

Kate was fast, hit Send then went through her wallet. All she could find were twenties. She checked her pockets. No cash there. She passed Fitch forty dollars.

“I need the change, buddy.”

He slid his hand into his jeans and pulled out a five.

“That’s the best I can do. Sorry.”

“Whatever. Thanks for helping me, Fitch.”

“Otherwise you would’ve hurt me. I sensed that about you.”

“Ha-ha.”

Kate collected her things then took several steps from the truck.

“Hold on!” Fitch called. “You’ve got a reply here. Take a look.”

Kate returned and read the email.

Kate: You should’ve tried to reach us sooner. Can you find anything stronger? Your story has no reference to the Saddle Up Center, which you were told to focus on. Benny Lopez, one of our photogs, is on scene, you should find him fast. AP has already filed.—DP.

“What a hard-ass,” Fitch said. “AP has satellite phones.”

Kate’s face flushed at Dorothea’s remarks.

“Want to respond?” Fitch asked.

“No.”

Kate slammed the door like a gunshot when she rushed out of the truck.

6

Wildhorse Heights, Texas

“Help! Somebody help!”

What?

Jenna’s ears pricked to the sound of a faded response.

Someone was out there, far off.

She looked and felt around, clawed at the debris. The stroller was gone. The red-haired woman was gone. The man with her was gone.

No, this isn’t real!

“Caleb! Anybody? Help!”

This can’t be!

“Help! Somebody, over here! Help!”

“Hello!”

Someone was out there and getting closer. Jenna thrust her hands up to the wooden beams that were sealing their tiny cell like pickup sticks. She couldn’t budge them.

Her mind reeled; her head spun.

“Help! Somebody help!”

Something tugged at her shirt.

“Mommy, that lady’s scaring me,” Cassie said.

“What lady?”

“In there.”

Jenna repositioned herself to go as far as she could behind Cassie. She stopped at a bushy mass of white hair belonging to an old woman.

Jenna shot back. Bile gushed along the back of her throat as she battled nausea. A corpse! Oh, God! Jenna touched the back of her hand to her mouth, fought to regain her composure. All the while her scalp tingled.

I’m sorry.