“Six survivors?” he whispered.
“There were nine, they lost Declan’s mother, eight so far.”
Duke shook his head. “This is a tragedy. The waiting room is full of people trying to find out if their loved ones made it. So many hopeful family members, it’s heartbreaking.”
“I’ll let you go, sir. I’m sure Amy needs you.”
“Phil has it. He was always good at handling Amy’s emotions; I, not so much. Put my foot in it every time. I often say the wrong thing. Thank you for finding our daughter; she’s everything to us,” Duke said.
“Amy was remarkably brave.”
“Is there any news on Natasha?”
I shook my head, and Duke’s face saddened. “They are as thick as thieves. Known each other since birth. Only a few weeks between them. Amy’s mother was a surrogate, so she looked to Mari, Natasha’s mom, for the female bond. Two dads made it hard on Amy when she needed to confide in a woman.”
“Sir, it’s unlikely they’ll find Natasha alive now. They just brought these, but the likelihood of another survivor is minimal. The devastation is horrendous,” I said.
“We didn’t drive near it, obviously, but the radio was full of descriptions. They’re speculating on survivors, and it’s been leaked that a kid survived. I hope to God he has family somewhere,” Duke replied heavily.
“Duke,” Phil called, and we glanced over to see that Amy had got control of herself again. She was wiping her eyes, and Duke released a beaming smile on seeing her.
The door opened, and an older lady peered in. For a moment, hope flared that this might be Declan’s grandma, but she spotted the guy. “Nathan!”
Nathan looked up. “Mom!” he said gutturally, and as she rushed forward, he broke down in tears. One of the trolleys was wheeled out, and I guessed they were heading to the theatre. There was nothing else I could do here, and I began making my way to the door.
“No!” Amy screamed, and I froze and turned quickly. There was a look of sheer panic on her face, and Amy’s hands grasped thin air as she stared in my direction.
“What?” I demanded, hurrying back.
“You said you’d remain. You have to stay,” she exclaimed.
“Brave girl, your dads are here. You’ve got family now,” I soothed and stroked her hair away from her wet cheeks.
“But you saved me,” Amy gasped.
“Amy needs you, so stay,” Phil said. Actually, it was more of an order, and I bristled. I wasn’t one of his men to boss about, but Amy seemed so hopeful I couldn’t say no.
“Okay, I’ll stay until you’re settled, brave girl.”
Amy looked relieved and nodded. Her hand snuck out and grasped mine.
“Dad, Declan,” she murmured, as the little boy curled into a ball. Duke picked the kid up and brought him back to his bed, which had somehow become Amy’s. Declan nestled into her, and we sat there as the sun broke in the sky and dawn opened on an already terrible day.
Inglorious
Miserably, I stared at the body in front of me. It was the girl we’d been searching for. She’d been badly burned from the waist down, although above it she looked untouched. Just asleep, apart from the fear and agony etched into her face.
“It’s her. I’ll let Vortex know,” I said to Jailbait, who’d found her. Jailbait nodded, and we covered her over with a sheet. The sheets were needed as the vultures were gathering, and we didn’t want the bodies any further desecrated.
Law enforcement had started arriving a couple of hours ago, but they held their asses in their hands until daybreak.The FBI was arguing with the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) over jurisdiction. On top of them were the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) and then the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives (ATF). And for good measure, insurance brokers were demanding access. It was a clusterfuck, and one I didn’t envy anyone.
Because the Feds were involved, I’d placed a call to Willow Michaelson, and she was on scene throwing her own weight about. Willow’s father was Axel, a Rage MC founder, and she was the wife and old lady of Fanatic from Hellfire MC. Willow was trying to wrest control from the Joint Terrorism Task Force (JTTF). She ran the Violent Crime and Major Offenders Unit in Rapid City, so this wasn’t her jurisdiction. But she had beaten the JTTF here, so claimed it was her case.
Finally, someone waded in and told JTTF to keep Willow updated, but they had the lead. ATF began arguing, and the guy sent them a dark look, and they subsided. The ATF would investigate the bomb, which we guessed had been on board because of the explosions the Unwanted Bastards and Riders of Vengeance had witnessed. The FAA would check the paperwork for the zeppelin, such as maintenance records. The NTSB would do their usual shit.
Willow sidled over with a grin.
I shook my head. “Got what you wanted?” I asked. My fingers twitched. I craved a drink but could manage until I got in touch with Janet, my therapist.
