Ryan considered. He nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”
Nick studied his friend. “How long have you known?”
“That you’re in love with her?” Ryan asked. “Since we were kids.”
“Great,” Nick muttered. “Who else knows?”
“To my knowledge, no one,” Ryan said. “Bro code still counts for something, friend.”
Nick could appreciate that. “Thanks.”
An alarm sounded. Nick and Ryan moved away from the table at the same time. The last week of rain had been wreaking havoc on Dark Canyon’s roads, especially in low-lying areas around the river near the rez, which had swollen its banks.
“They’re calling us,” Ryan said as Nick checked his pager.
“Us, too,” Nick noted. “Bridge collapse on the highway leading to the reservation.”
“The river?” Ryan asked.
Nick nodded confirmation, quickening his steps. “There were multiple cars on it.”
“Looks like you and me may be getting wet,” Ryan said before veering into the fire engine bay.
Nick cut toward the exit, where the ambulance was waiting for him. Rain pelted him as he pushed through the door.
“Come on!” Perez called, waving from the driver’s door. “Boats came unmoored upriver and hit the bridge’s support beams. There’s people trapped.”
Nick broke into a run. “Do we know how many?”
“Not yet,” Perez said, “but I have a bad feeling about this callout.” She waited until he was loaded in the passenger seat, soaking wet, to put on lights and sirens and peel out of the fire station parking lot. “Sorry, your welcome-back party’ll have to be postponed again. This rain’s keeping us busier than a cow’s tongue at a salt lick.”
“No problem,” Nick said. If he couldn’t eat dirty nachos, how was he going to hork down the ice cream cake he knew Perez had on standby? “I have a bad feeling about this call, too.”
* * *
It was worse than either of them anticipated. Water was over the road leading to the bridge. Emergency vehicles had to stay back fifty yards. Officers already on scene had closed the road, set up barricades and were wading toward the scene of disaster.
The bridge had partially collapsed, half its supports gone on the north end closer to the rez. On the south side near Dark Canyon, the supports were hanging on. Cars were in the river. Several people had been swept downstream. Rescue boats and divers were already in the water.
“Stay back,” a firefighter Nick didn’t recognize cautioned as he waded through knee-deep water to Perez and Nick’s position. “The whole thing’s unstable. The rest of the bridge could go at any moment.”
Nick pointed to the cars still on the Dark Canyon side of the structure. They’d slid into one another like dominoes. “Are there people in those vehicles?”
“We got most everybody out,” the firefighter said, “but there’s still one or two we haven’t been able to reach.”
“Because they’re trapped or because they’re unconscious?” Perez asked as she buckled into a set of waders.
“We’ve got one trapped between two other cars,” the firefighter said, pointing to the chaos on the bridge.
Nick squinted through the rain. The vehicle in question looked an awful lot like… “Sassy,” he said numbly, recognizing the same peace sign decal that had been attached to her Bronco until recently. “Jesus, that’s Sassy’s car!”
“Nick,” Perez said, grabbing him by the arm before he could move forward. “We haven’t been completely briefed on the structural integrity of the bridge. If you go out there and that thing collapses—”
Nick shrugged out of her grip. Without waders, he fought his way through the floodwaters, milling his arms to make him faster.
Sassy’s car was wedged between a Honda CRV and a dually. None of the doors could be opened from the outside of the vehicle or in. The bridge listed ominously to one side and had forced the CRV’s driver’s side into the low-hanging rail. The driver’s door was open, just as the passenger side of the dually was. The drivers and passengers of both vehicles had escaped, leaving Sassy helpless.
Behind him, Nick heard Ryan shouting for him. Dilinger’s voice joined in. He didn’t stop. The floodwaters grew shallow as the pavement rose to meet the entrance to the bridge. He climbed the embankment until he was clear of the water and scaled the bridge to the break point, where asphalt had fissured and crumbled away. A drop of about two feet sloped toward the raging river. “Sassy!” he called, trying to see through her back window. Was there movement? Was she hurt? Was she conscious?
