Finally, Beau returned. “Ranch is secure. Frank and Mabel are going to coordinate cleanup with the hands. Let’s go.”
The drive into town was a nightmare. Trees blocked half the roads, forcing us to backtrack and find alternate routes. Power lines hung low and dangerous across intersections. The rain had finally started to let up, but the damage was everywhere. Roofs were torn off buildings, cars were flipped over, and entire structures had been reduced to piles of splintered wood.
My stomach churned with every block we passed. The closer we got to the western edge of town, the worse it looked.
“Jesus,” Lucas breathed from the backseat.
The sheriff’s office came into view, and my heart stopped.
The building was still standing, but barely. The roof was partially gone, windows blown out, the front door hanging at an odd angle. Mrs. Baxter’s car was in the parking lot, crushed by a tree branch. But Marcus’s truck was nowhere to be seen. Probably carried away by the tornado.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.”
Beau had barely stopped the truck before I was out, running toward the building. Behind me I heard Lucas calling my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
“Marcus!” I shouted, stumbling through the destroyed doorway. Glass crunched under my feet. Papers swirled in the wind coming through the broken windows. “Marcus, where are you?”
The office was empty. Desks overturned, filing cabinets on their sides, everything covered in debris and rain. But no Marcus. No Mrs. Baxter. No bodies.
“They’re not here,” Beau said from behind me, his hand on my shoulder. “That’s good, Xavier. That means they got out.”
“Or they’re buried somewhere,” I choked out, my eyes burning. “Or the tornado?—”
“The shelter,” Lucas interrupted, pointing. “The town has a storm shelter two blocks over. That’s where they would have gone.”
Hope flared in my chest, painful and desperate. I took off running before either of them could stop me, my feet pounding against the wet pavement as I dodged debris and downed power lines. My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but I didn’t slow down. Two blocks had never felt so far.
The storm shelter was a squat concrete building partially underground, the kind of structure that looked like it could survive a nuclear blast. The heavy metal door was closed, but I could see light seeping out from the cracks around it.
I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked from the inside.
“Marcus!” I pounded on the door with both fists, not caring that I was probably bruising my hands. “Marcus, are you in there?”
For a moment, nothing. Just the sound of my own ragged breathing and the distant rumble of thunder as the storm continued to move away.
Then I heard the scrape of metal on metal as someone unlocked the door from inside.
It swung open to reveal Mrs. Baxter, her usually perfect hair in disarray, her clothes wrinkled and dusty. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Xavier? What are you doing here? The storm?—”
“Is Marcus here?” I interrupted, trying to see past her into the shelter. “Is he okay?”
“He’s—” she started, but I was already pushing past her, my eyes scanning the crowded space.
The shelter was packed with people. Families huddled together, elderly residents sitting on benches along the walls, children crying in their parents’ arms. My eyes swept over all of them, desperate, searching.
“Marcus?” I called, pushing through them. “Marcus!”
Chapter 25
Marcus
“Tornado warning issued for Sagebrush,” I said into my radio as I drove through town. The loudspeaker on top of my pickup blasted my voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Seek shelter immediately. I repeat, a tornado warning has been issued for Sagebrush. Seek shelter immediately.”
I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I made another pass down Main Street, watching people hurry toward the shelter. Dolly stood in the doorway of her diner, ushering the last of her customers out. She caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up before locking the door and heading toward the shelter herself.
The sky had taken on that sickly green color I’d learned to recognize over my years as sheriff. The air felt wrong. It was too still, too heavy, like the whole world was holding its breath. I’d seen storms like this before, but something about today made my skin crawl.
