The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) (12 page)

“Sorry about that, Christine wasn’t feeling
well and needed some air.”

“No problem.” Johnson picked up the voice
recorder and turned it on again. A moment later the chief came in
and took a seat.

“Trevor, tell me again what happened,
everything you recall, no matter how trivial it may seem to you,”
he said.

“A noise, a voice, woke me and I looked at
the clock. It read 2:17 and then it went out. The power was gone.”
Trevor continued with his original statement until the chief
interrupted him.

“You heard a voice? Did you recognize it?” He
jotted something down in his notebook.

“Yes, it was Riley, one of my employees.”

“Did you hear anything else?”

“Yes, a second voice.” Although Trevor was
looking at Marty, out of the corner of his eye, he could see
Johnson tense.

“Did you recognize the second voice at that
time?”

“It was familiar but I couldn’t place it,”
Trevor answered.

“What happened next?” Marty was leading him
down a perfect path.

“I went back to the window and saw a police
scout car leave my parking lot.”

“Trevor, think carefully before you answer
this: Did you recognize the second voice later, under other
circumstances?”

“Yes, I did, Chief, today. The voice belongs
to Officer Johnson.” Trevor looked directly at Johnson.

“That’s a lie! I’m not going to sit here and
listen to this garbage!” Johnson stood and walked defiantly to the
door. When he opened it, another officer was there and waiting.

“Take Officer Johnson into custody, Harry,”
Marty said, taking Johnson’s service weapon from him.

***

The storm raged outside, rain lashing at the
windows and sending flashes of lightning to illuminate the night.
Trevor had built a fire in the seldom used fireplace and he sat
with Christine on the loveseat, enjoying the warmth and an after
dinner glass of wine.

The doorbell rang.

“Marty! Nasty weather to be out in. Please,
come inside,” Trevor opened the door further so his friend could
hurry in.

“Can we interest you in a glass of wine,
Chief?” Christine asked.

“Well, I
am
off duty, so sure. It
might even help me with the news.”

Trevor and Christine resumed their places on
the couch after Marty sat with his glass in hand.

“Poor kid. Johnson couldn’t stop talking once
I reminded him I was aware he was on patrol that night.” Marty took
a sip before continuing. “I left him locked up while I took another
officer over to his house, and we found cases of your stock in his
garage.”

“What was his excuse about that?” Christine
asked, getting up to put another log on the fire.

Marty took a long drink, nearly draining the
glass. “Never got to ask him. By the time we got back to the
station, Johnson had hung himself.”

Christine gasped. Trevor was stunned into
silence.

“Case closed.”

“My car is fixed and
ready to be picked up,” Christine announced, hanging up her phone.
“Let’s go get it. I really don’t like driving my dad’s car. He’s a
very private person and adamant about certain things being only
his. His car is one, his bedroom is another, and, um, his clothes
are another, so we don’t want to tell him about you wearing some of
his things.” Christine looked guilty.

“He wouldn’t want you driving his car if you
needed to?”

“Oh, he’d be okay with that. Now that my car
is fixed, and he’ll know when I got it back by the deductible
charge on his credit card, we should start using mine instead.”

“Which reminds me, we should also pick up my
car.”

“I thought it was burned up.”

“That was the store van. I have another
vehicle to drive. I keep it parked at that parking structure at
Main and Fulton,” Trevor said with a grin, knowing she was so going
to love his car.

***

Christine walked around the PT Cruiser,
inspecting the work done. The car looked brand new, and they’d even
washed it. She got in, turned the ignition on, and immediately shut
it off.

“What’s the matter?” Trevor asked.

She ignored him and stormed into the
auto-shop office. The owner looked up, concerned.

“My gas tank is on empty,” she said angrily.
“When I brought it in, it was full.”

“It sat outside while we waited for parts,”
the shop owner said. “Someone must have siphoned the tank, which
wouldn’t be a surprise considering the cost and shortage of gas
now. And you did sign a waiver, Miss Tiggs. Your car is not our
responsibility when it isn’t inside our building.”

She glared at him. “Wrong answer!” She
stormed out again.

Trevor gripped her by the shoulders and
turned her to face him. “It’s only gas, Christine. We’ll go out to
the Exit 31 store and refill your car.” He hugged her until she
calmed down.

“The gas isn’t the point, Trevor, it was that
I trusted him,” she said. “I guess I need to follow your example
and not trust anyone.” She looked up at him. “Except you.”

***

With a full tank of gas, Christine pulled
into her driveway and reached for the garage door opener. It wasn’t
on the visor. Trevor pulled up beside her and opened the garage
with the unit in John’s car, which he then parked inside.

“Let’s go get my car now,” Trevor said
excitedly.

***

“That’s your car?” Christine said, wide eyed,
after Trevor pulled the tarp off. She walked around the candy apple
red Mustang convertible.

Trevor grinned. “I knew you’d like it.”

“Why don’t you drive it? It’s awesome.” She
glided her hand down the shiny fender.

“It would have sent the wrong message to my
employees if they saw me in this car all the time,” he replied.
“Besides, it’s terrible for deliveries!”

***

Christine pulled her PT Cruiser into the
driveway on the side where her father’s SUV was parked and reached
again for the automatic door opener that wasn’t there. She frowned
and got out of the car to search under the seat.

“What are you looking for?” Trevor asked,
parking the Mustang on the empty side of the concrete drive.

“I can’t find my door opener,” she scowled.
They searched her entire car to find only an empty water bottle
under the passenger seat.

Using her house keys, Trevor opened the
person-door on the side of the garage and opened the overhead door.
After pulling the Mustang inside, he lowered the door again.

“First the gas and now your door opener. I
think you should find a new mechanic, Christine,” he said. “Let’s
go back to the shop. Perhaps he removed it to keep it safe.”

***

“Look, I haven’t seen the door opener. I
didn’t even know there was one,” the guy behind the desk said
defensively. “Maybe whoever took the gas took the remote too.”

“The car was supposed to be kept locked!”
Christine said. “I’m filing a complaint.” She stomped out of the
office.

“Hey, babe, don’t let this upset you. We’ll
get another one and reprogram it,” Trevor said, while he made
soothing circles on her back. She leaned her forehead to his chest
and sighed.

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” she said, taking
a deep breath to steady her anger. “I remember seeing one or two of
those frozen tubs of boneless turkey in the freezer items. How does
that sound for dinner?”

Trevor smiled down at her. “It sounds
awesome. What do you think of inviting Marty and his wife to join
us? Marty has done a lot for us lately.”

***

The two men stood by the fire in the living
room, while Christine and Marion set the table for Thanksgiving
dinner.

“Marty, can you get me a copy of the police
report and the fire department arson report on my store fire? I
need to file a claim with the insurance company,” Trevor said.
“They aren’t being very cooperative, saying they are overwhelmed
with claims. I guess that might be true if everyone from the quake
zone used the same insurance company, which I doubt. I think
they’re just giving me the runaround.”

“Of course, Trevor,” Marty replied. “And
thank you again for inviting us for dinner; otherwise it might be
soup again.” Chief Mallory laughed.

The morning of December
9, another quake struck the New Madrid fault. Centered at the same
location as the last, the 8.1 quake was devastating. The portion of
the tectonic plate that was lifted and created the new lake in
Missouri was ripped in half, sending an avalanche of water down the
now dry Mississippi River. A wall of water nearly fifty-feet high
traveled at an incredible speed and washed away everything in its
path. This time there were few deaths, considering, although the
exposed and vulnerable bridges were completely swept away.

***

A low rumbled sloshed the coffee in
Christine’s cup.

“Trevor!”

“Yeah, I felt it too,” he said, drying his
hair from his morning shower. “Another quake perhaps?”

“It felt like it.” She was breathing hard to
the point of hyperventilating. “Of course the last one I felt I was
right on top of it.”

“If it was another one at the New Madrid,
we’re too far away for it to affect us, so let’s not worry,” Trevor
comforted her. “And I doubt the destruction could get any worse
from what we saw on the news last night.”

“You’re right. I’m overreacting.” She poured
some coffee into his cup and sat back down.

“How are our supplies holding up?” he asked.
They had been together for only a few weeks, yet had slid
comfortably into a domestic routine.

“It looks like we’ve barely touched them. Of
course it helped getting back all that the chief found at Johnson’s
house,” she answered. “The freezers are showing the most use, which
I think is good. If we lost power, we would lose much of that.”

Trevor was delighted Christine was finally
starting to think outside the box.

“I’m starting to feel too cooped up,”
Christine said after a moment.

They set out for a fun day of wandering,
walking the streets for hours, holding hands, stopping occasionally
to look at a window display. The town was taking on the festive air
of Christmas. Lampposts were wrapped in greenery and tinsel, and
what stores were still open shone brightly with colored lights. The
weather was holding at a mild sixty-five degrees. Above average,
though still below the record high.

“I’m hungry,” Trevor said, “let’s stop for
lunch.” Not many places were open with the shipping shortage in
effect. They were near a small café that was still in business and
served homemade soup and croissant sandwiches. Opening the door
triggered a sound machine that played
Deck the Halls
.

“Today’s special is vegetable soup and egg
salad on whole wheat bread,” the waitress informed them.

“Is there a menu?” Christine asked.

“Sorry, the special is the only thing we’re
serving now. The bakery has stopped sending the croissants we
usually use, so we’re now baking our own bread. Today, that’s whole
wheat. The good news is we’re getting a regular delivery of eggs
from a local farmer. We have egg salad a lot.” She shrugged her
thin shoulders.

“Good thing I like egg salad.” Christine
smiled at her. Being a waitress right now had to be a really tough
job. At least she had one though; many people were out of work now
and suffering.

They finished their lunch and Trevor paid the
bill, leaving a large tip. They sat for a while longer, sipping
their tea and talking.

***

After lunch, they continued their casual
stroll around town, and as they rounded the next corner near the
local school, they saw a mass of people in a haphazard line. Chief
Mallory was walking the line talking to people.

“Chief!” Trevor called out to his friend.
“What’ going on here?”

“We just got a couple of busloads of refugees
from west of here. Did you feel the quake this morning?
Fortunately, these lucky folks were already on their way. I’m not
sure what we’re going to do with all of them but for now they’ll be
housed in the school.”

Christine heard a dog bark and scanned the
crowd to find the source. “Holly?” She let go of Trevor’s hand and
headed to the mass of people. She stopped near the golden retriever
who was wagging her tail furiously. That familiar red leash was
being held by a stranger. “Excuse me, where is Holly’s owner?” she
asked.

“He just needed to use the nearest tree,” the
young man answered, looking Christine up and down. “How do you know
Holly?” Before she could answer, Henry Palazzola came back to his
spot.

“Christine! How good to see you!” The old
doctor wrapped his arms around her.

“Doc, I’m so happy to see you, too! And
Holly,” she reached down and gave the dog another pat on the
head.

“Are you here waiting for shelter placement
too?” Henry asked.

“No, I live in this town.” She looked behind
the old veterinarian. “Where are Sadie and Michael? And why do you
have Katie’s dog?”

“It’s a long story, my dear, and a sad one.”
He inched forward in line.

“Find someone you know?” Trevor came up
behind her and possessively slid his arm around her waist.

“Trevor, this is Dr. Henry Palazzola, and
Holly. They were with me during the first quake.”

“It’s just Henry now, remember? You have a
remarkable young lady here, Trevor,” Henry said.

“Yes, I know.” Trevor gave Christine a gentle
squeeze.

“Do you have a place to stay, Henry?”
Christine asked.

“I’m lucky to have gotten a seat on the bus,
dear. They said we would all be put up in the school until better
arrangements could be made.”