“Yeah,” I answer slowly. “Why?”
There’s a brief pause before he speaks again.
“We’ve got a situation at the harbor.”
My grip tightens slightly on the wheel.
“What kind of situation?”
“Marine unit call,” he says. “Fishing vessel drifting toward the rocks. Fire department responded first. Coast Guard crew on duty is assisting a vessel out near Otter Rock, and my team in Newport is working a capsized boat.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel. “So why are you calling me?”
“Search command just activated.”
My stomach drops. “What happened?”
“Man overboard.”
I swing the wheel hard, cutting across the lane to make a sharp U-turn, ignoring the horn that blasts behind me as I press down on the accelerator.
“Who?” I ask.
García exhales.
“Holloway.”
My grip tightens on the wheel.
“I’m on my way,” I say, hanging up before he can respond.
Christ.
I pull into the lot faster than I should, sliding the truck into one of the reserved spaces before jumping out and heading straight inside.
The station is already alive with movement. Radios crackle across the room while people move quickly between equipment racks and computer terminals.
Officer Schwartz spots me first.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“No time,” I respond as I pass. “Where’s command?”
“Operations room,” he calls after me.
Lieutenant Mercer is standing over the operations table when I step into the room. Charts and radios are spread out in front of him, voices overlapping as crews coordinate search patterns out on the water.
I come to a stop and salute.
“Sir.”
His eyes lift immediately.
“You’re not scheduled today, O’Donoghue.”
“No, sir.” I lower my hand. “With all due respect, I’d like to go.”
He studies me for a moment, weighing the request, the room around us still buzzing with activity.
