Page 44 of Desperate Creed

For the first time in his marriage he hadn’t called or alerted his wife that he wouldn’t be home for the night. He always called. It was instinctive after all these years. So much so, that twice he’d caught himself tapping out a message, only to stop himself and delete it.

He didn’t know how this worked now? He had no idea.

When there was no text message or voice mail from Beth, Willis regretted his decision to not send something, anything. He couldn’t blame her for not extending those common courtesies if he didn’t do the same.

But then a little voice in the back of his mind told him, But you weren’t the one who asked for a divorce.

Clearly, he had a lot to learn about this new world he was entering.

By the time he made it down to the weather desk in the studio, his mind was back to where it needed to be.

On the television monitor in the corner he could see Mia was on the air. They’d be taking turns all afternoon and probably into the evening. What they called their weather desk was really a small room. The separation gave them enough privacy and quiet to talk with each other, communicate on-line with storm chasers and make phone calls.

A large glass window allowed them to look in at the studio. He could watch Mia in front of the green screen if he wanted, but the television monitor allowed him a view of what she was actually pointing to on the weather map.

Willis immediately started reviewing the latest information. On a day like today, it would be changing and streaming in constantly. He couldn’t remember the atmosphere being like this in early March. All that moist air drifting up from the Gulf of Mexico was unseasonably warm, downright hot, and the trough coming from the Rockies was unusually cold. Yesterday those two systems started to clash. All the ingredients had been brewing and simmering, drifting into place. Now they were starting to come to a boil.

The entire Tennessee Valley was under weather alerts for a weekend filled with dangerous thunderstorms capable of producing tornadoes. But the added threat was that this system would stall right over Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia. And Willis knew that meant that they were in for several consecutive days of violent storms.

All maps and computer models confirmed the potential for significant and widespread tornado outbreaks. He glanced at the monitors. Just to the west, across the border in Mississippi the radar was already blooming. Green patches with bits of red and yellow splashes were popping as a squall line started forming.

A news anchor replaced Mia. Willis glanced up and saw her grab two bottles of water then she came in and took the seat next to him.

“Are these numbers correct?” he asked her.

“Yeah, there’re crazy, aren’t they? Wind shear is off the charts.” She handed him a bottle of water. “I’m glad it’s the weekend. I hate when we have to worry about school kids.”

“Except people don’t pay attention to us on the weekends. As long as the sky’s blue, no worries.”

“Willis, you’re starting to sound jaded.” She smiled but didn’t look over at him as she added, “Besides, they hardly ever pay attention to us.”

He shot her a look and saw her smile widen. Her eyes were tracking across the monitors. It was difficult to explain to others the camaraderie true weather nerds shared. Only they understood that surge of adrenaline and the electric-charged energy that supercells triggered inside them. Willis had felt it since he was a young boy, and most true weather nerds—Mia admittedly so—had also felt it. But it was difficult and almost embarrassing to try to explain it to a layperson. How could someone be so excited about a phenomenon that caused so much death and destruction?

“NWS is saying yesterday morning’s storm was an EF4,” she told him.

“Thank God, it didn’t stay on the ground for long. Smith Crossings would have been smack-dab in its path.”

“Did you hear about the baby they found alive?”

“What? No.” Willis said. He hated to admit he hadn’t been home. He hadn’t even had his regular commute last night or this morning to listen to the radio.

“A ten-month-old boy was thrown from his parents’ vehicle. A search and rescue dog found him clear out under some fallen pine trees.”

“Really?”

“We’ve been running the video a motorist took from the highway. It’s a bit grainy but makes me tear up every time I see it.”

An alert dinged on the monitor dedicated to the National Weather Service. Both of them turned.

“A tornado warning,” Willis said. “Here we go.”

31

Atlanta, Georgia

Maggie had taken an early morning flight to give herself plenty of time for the two-and-a-half hour drive from Atlanta to Montgomery. She could have waited for and caught a connecting flight, but the March day was gorgeous. That was only part of the reason for her choosing to drive. The other reason—Maggie hated flying.

Originally, she had hoped to meet Frankie Russo at the Atlanta airport, but the woman got spooked when she thought she’d been followed to the Chicago airport. Hannah told her Frankie rented a car and had driven to Nashville last night without anyone trailing her.