can’t, so give it up,” Ricky retorted, as always. “You can’t match my dimples, either. My sisters assure me they’re irresistible.”
“Your sisters aren’t exactly unbiased. Besides, they have spoiled their baby brother shamelessly,” Tom retorted. “It’s no wonder you’ve never married. Why should you when you have four women in your life who wait on you hand and foot? I’m amazed their husbands permit it.”
“Their husbands knew I was part of the bargain when I allowed them to date my sisters,” Ricky said. “And there are five women, not four. You’re forgetting my mother.”
“Saints forgive me, yes. Mama Wilder, who comes from the old school in Cuba where the husband is king and the son is prince. She’s definitely had a part in shaping you into a scoundrel.”
Ricky grinned. “I dare you to tell her that.”
Tom turned pale. “Not a chance. Last time I offended her precious son, she chased me with a meat cleaver.”
“It was a butter knife,” Ricky said with a shake of his head at the exaggeration. His mother might be a passionate defender of her offspring, but she wasn’t crazy. Besides, she considered Tom to be a second son, which she felt gave her free rein to nag him as enthusiastically as she did Ricky or his sisters. She was still lecturing Tom about his divorce, though it had been final for three years now. If it had been up to her and her meddling, he would have been back with his wife long ago.
“Hey, guys, cut the foolishness,” their lieutenant shouted, his expression somber as he hung up the phone. “We’ve got to roll. There’s a report of houses down.”
“Casualties?” Ricky asked, already moving toward his gear.
“No word, but it’s the middle of the night. Some people might have gone to shelters, but outside the flood zones where evacuations were required, most stayed home to protect their belongings. Worst-case scenario? We could have dozens of families whose ceilings came crashing down on top of them as they slept. Clearly the construction in that part of town was no match for Mother Nature.”
“Multiple houses?” Ricky asked. “I thought we’d lucked out. I thought this sucker had all but ended. Was it the hurricane or a tornado spawned by the storm?”
“No confirmation on that. Either way, it’s trouble,” the lieutenant said.
Within seconds the trucks were on the road, traveling far more slowly than Ricky would have liked. The main street in front of the station was ankle deep in water and littered with debris. Rain was still lashing from the sky in sheets, and the wind was bending nearby palms almost to the ground. Other trees had been uprooted, their broken limbs tossed around like giant pick-up sticks.
Street signs had been ripped from the corners, making the trip even trickier. With signs down and landmarks in tatters, it was going to take luck or God’s guidance to get them where they needed to be, even though it was less than a mile from the station. He murmured a silent prayer to the saints that they would reach the devastated street before someone died in the rubble.
As if in answer to his prayer, the rain and wind began to die down. In a few hours the street flooding would begin to ease, but that was no help to them now. They crept along at a frustrating pace.
The scene that awaited them when they eventually reached the middle-class Miami neighborhood was like a war zone. Power lines were down, leaving dangerous live wires in the road. Here and there a home had miraculously escaped the worst of the hurricane’s wrath, but those were the exception. Most of the two-storey houses had been leveled by the winds or by an accompanying tornado. Those that hadn’t collapsed completely were severely damaged. Roof tiles had been stripped away, glass was shattered and doors had been ripped from their hinges. Another testament to lousy inspections and shoddy construction, Rick thought wearily as he surveyed the damage. Hadn’t the city learned anything from Hurricane Andrew?
There was no time to worry about what couldn’t be changed. With the precision of a long-established team, the firefighters assessed the situation, then split up. A call was placed to the electric company to get a crew on the scene. In the meantime, barricades were set up to prevent people from stumbling onto the area around the live wires.
A few people were walking around dazed and bloody, oblivious to the light shower that was now the only lingering evidence of Hurricane Gwen. Some of the paramedics set up a first aid station and began to treat the less severely injured, while others took their highly trained dogs and began to search for signs of life.
A woman who looked to be in her seventies, clutching a robe tightly around her, hobbled up to Ricky. She seemed to be completely unaware of the bloody gash in her forehead, though her expression was frantic.
“You have to find Allie,” she said urgently.
“Your daughter, ma’am?”
“No, no, she’s my neighbor.” She gestured toward a severely damaged house. As Ricky and Tom headed in that direction, she trailed along behind. “She’s a wonderful young woman and she’s already been through so much. This house was her pride and joy. She just bought it a few months ago, and she’s been spending every spare minute fixing it up, putting in flowers all around.”
Her eyes shone with tears. “None of that matters, of course. Houses can be rebuilt. Flowers can be replanted.”
“You say her name is Allie?” Ricky asked.
“Allison, actually. Allison Matthews.”
As Tom went to get the equipment they’d need, Ricky surveyed the collapsed structure in the early dawn light. He opened his mouth to shout, but the woman’s frail hand on his arm stopped him.
“Calling out won’t help,” she said urgently. “She won’t be able to hear you. Allie’s deaf.”
As if the situation weren’t complicated enough, he thought, then reminded himself to treat it as he might a rescue in a foreign country where he didn’t know the language. It wouldn’t matter that he couldn’t communicate with this Allie in the usual way. He just had to find her.
He circled the twisted pile of debris, looking for any sign of the woman, any hint of where rooms might have been. Would she have been in an upstairs bedroom or downstairs?
Shadow, the highly trained dog at his side, moved gingerly through the rubble, sniffing. Rick stood where he was, waiting, letting Shadow do his part. This was always the hardest part of a rescue, hanging back, leaving it to the German shepherd to pinpoint signs of life.
Finally Shadow stilled, whimpered, then barked.
“So, you found her, did you, boy? Good dog.”
Shadow yipped excitedly, but didn’t move, as if he sensed that one tiny shift could be fatal.
“Let’s get her out of there, boy,” Ricky said. He paused long enough to give a reassuring smile to the neighbor. “Looks like we’ve located your friend. We’ll have her out of there in no time.”
“Thank God,” she said. “Allie’s one of those special people put on this earth to show others the meaning of goodness. She’s an angel, sure as anything.”
Ricky didn’t know a lot of women who could live up to such high praise.
