Colton First Responder. Linda O. Johnston
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“Was there anyone in the back?” Chad asked—not surprising from a former cop.
“Apparently there had been at least one person there,” Grayson said, looking Chad in the other man’s dark brown eyes, which kind of resembled his dog’s. “But no one was in it when I got there, and though I looked around for a while to make sure no one was injured or otherwise needed my help, I didn’t discover anything or anyone that had to be taken care of or reported.” He’d phrased that in a way that remained sort of true, at least.
“Sad,” Pedro said, “but I gather there weren’t a whole lot of injuries or deaths due to the quake. A lot of property damage in some locations, though.”
“Like the older parts of town,” Grayson said, nodding. “I’m going to go take a walk around there soon and size up the damage—assuming no new information comes in requiring us to do any first responding right now. Meantime, I’d like each of you to contact the officials in your areas of expertise again just to confirm that all’s well for now, and to offer your services if needed, of course.”
FHFR received most of its funding from the public departments they assisted, being paid a general retainer and getting more each time they helped out.
And when needed, Grayson supplemented his company’s finances with his own money received as a Colton.
He always made sure to pay his excellent employees well.
“Yes, sir,” Chad said, rising and saluting as if Grayson was his superior officer—which he was, in a way. Grayson, grinning, saluted back, and his smile grew even wider as Winchell held out his paw for a shake.
Grayson wanted to make a couple of calls, too, to his major local contacts—in case he or his people were needed now, so he walked up the stairs to the second floor to where his own office was.
But he looked forward to heading soon to the other side of town.
First, though, he decided to check the news on his computer. He wanted to see what the local media said about the quake and the havoc it had caused.
And anything about the destroyed van and its driver...and the passenger who had disappeared.
Sure enough, although most of the news was about the quake itself, the crushed van and the death of Ari, its driver, was out there, too.
Grayson turned on the sound on his computer and listened to a couple of those reports.
They all ended with the fact that the female prisoner being transported from court back to the local prison had apparently escaped.
The authorities suspected that the passenger, Savannah Oliver, had killed the driver so she could flee. Her handcuffs had been found beside the destroyed van, after all.
Oh boy, Grayson thought. The idea hadn’t crossed his mind, since he had seen Ari and the van and the tree that had caused the driver’s death. But not everyone had. And the photos on his phone wouldn’t necessarily do away with the suspicion.
What would Savannah think of these additional accusations against her?
He felt certain he would soon find out.
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