Today's Reading
Hanna activated her SUV's light bar, then picked up her radio mike to contact dispatch as she accelerated down the street. "It's Chief Keyes. I think there's a plane going down. It's headed toward the field at Pine and Baseline."
"10-4, Chief. We're getting calls on that as well. Fire is rolling."
Hanna replaced the mike and concentrated on her driving. The plane dropped below the tree line, and her heart sank. She rounded the corner just in time to see it pull up slightly, then list to the left and come down at an angle so the left wing hit the ground hard, causing the plane to cartwheel across the field. It broke apart as it did so, pieces flying everywhere. The fuselage skidded to a violent stop in the middle of the grassy field. Smoke and dust swirled up, but Hanna didn't see flames yet.
She jumped the curb and angled her SUV across the field from the north as a pickup truck crossed from the south. They met at the plane. Hanna jammed the vehicle into park and leapt from the front seat as the driver of the truck got out.
Jared Hodges. He was a firefighter-EMT, but he was obviously off duty.
His presence set her back a bit. Their history together reared up in her thoughts like a wild stallion.
"You have a fire extinguisher?" he called out to Hanna.
She nodded, jolted from her memories, then hurried around her vehicle to the back hatch. She opened it and jerked the extinguisher from its clips.
Jared arrived at her elbow, grabbed it from her, and jogged to the plane, where tongues of flames started to lick at the dry grass underneath.
Hanna followed, just now hearing the blare of the approaching fire truck sirens.
Jared expertly aimed the suppression liquid at the flames. A spurt here and a spurt there as he doused all the flames. The acrid odor of airplane fuel assaulted her nose, causing a grimace. Could Scott have survived such a horrendous impact? Hanna looked back to where he'd first hit the ground. The plane's debris stretched at least a hundred yards across the field.
Jared got down on his hands and knees and peered into the wreckage. He peeled away what would have been the door, and Scott's body was exposed. Hanna knelt next to Jared and gasped at the sight of poor Scott. He was still strapped into his seat, his body completely limp. Blood smeared the instrument panel and was dripping from his head.
"Scott, can you hear me?" Jared asked. No response.
All she could think was How am I going to tell his father?
The arriving fire truck cut its sirens, leaving the rumble of a diesel engine and the pop of air brakes to announce its arrival. Uniformed firefighters exited the rig and set about preparing their equipment for the task at hand.
Jared pressed his fingers to Scott's carotid artery. She doubted he would find a pulse, but the step was necessary. She pulled back, stabilizing herself on her knees.
Jared sat back as well. "I got no pulse."
"It was quite an impact." Hanna coughed as the smoke and fumes seared her nose.
Jared coughed as well and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Saw it on my way to work. He flew straight into the ground."
"You check it out, Hodges?" Paul Stokes, a senior firefighter, jogged up and asked.
Jared faced Stokes. "I couldn't find a pulse. We need to move him. I think the fire might flare up again."
Stokes signaled for the men manning the hose to start the water flow before returning his attention to Jared. "Okay, stand back. You're not geared up."
"Yes, sir."
Hanna stood and moved back with Jared to let the on-duty firefighters finish their work. Two of them brought up a hose and began to work on the fire, which as Jared had warned was already flaring back up. The ambulance had been on the heels of the pumper, and the medics climbed out, pausing only to remove their rescue equipment from the sides of the truck. Once on the ground next to Scott, they carefully cut the harness holding him in the crumpled plane and then gently removed him from the fire danger.
They did their assessment and began CPR. In a few minutes, they put him on a gurney, slid it into the rig, and drove away, code 3, using lights and sirens. The closest trauma center was in Sonora.
Maybe there was hope. Scott was engaged to be married. She prayed that he'd live to see his wedding day.
A crowd started to gather along the fringes of the field. The chatter on her radio told her a patrol unit was almost on-scene. She got on the air and requested mutual aid from the sheriff's department. Hanna's department was competent but small. And the size of the area they need to contain would keep all her personnel busy. They needed help.
This excerpt is from the eBook edition.
Monday we begin the book The Angel of Second Street by Barbara Tifft Blakey.
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