Page 71 of Desperate Creed

Again, Hank ignored her, but Maggie asked, “Is that standard procedure?”

“I believe so, but it depends how bad the tornado was. It may have compromised the main, too.”

“Thanks. I’m Maggie, by the way. Are you two doing okay?”

The woman put her arm around her friend whose face looked pale. “We’ll be fine. I’m Clara and this is Adele.”

Maggie looked to Hank. He was still standing beside her. She had expected he would be anxious to join the men at the door, but he swept the stream of light around their surroundings. It flicked over the hole in the ceiling where the support beam had pulled down a chunk with it. Maggie saw Hank’s eyes go wide.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shot the light back and forth as though trying to get his bearings.

“We’re directly under the kitchen,” he said. “That must be the grill or the dishwasher.”

She waited for more of an explanation. She could see him working his jaw as his eyes examined the ceiling.

Finally he said, “I just realized, that’s a lot of weight above us.”

He skimmed the flashlight everywhere now, shooting it in people’s eyes. He was looking for something or someone.

“Rita’s not down here,” he said with a hint of panic. “I don’t see Ann Marie or Sofia either.”

Maggie realized that it only now occurred to him to look and see if his co-workers had followed him.

The other waitress, Val overheard. She stayed by Ronald’s side, but to Hank she said, “You know Ann Marie is scared to death of going down underground. They probably went back into the restrooms. Isn’t that where they always tell us to go?”

Maggie watched the two of them exchange glances. Hank looked up, shooting the ceiling above the freezer with his flashlight beam as if he might be able to see if the women were safe in the space above.

Maggie already felt guilty about Rita. How did she miss seeing the other two women? She couldn’t think about it. There was nothing she could do for them now. Hopefully they were safe.

“Any chance there’s another flashlight down here?” she asked Hank.

“I have no idea. I’m guessing all this crap is the previous owner’s. We never came down here.”

“So it’d be okay if I looked around?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He pointed to her cell phone. “Have you been able to send anything? Mine doesn’t have a signal, but it’s about five years old.”

“I received one. Not sure if mine got delivered.”

“It’s hit or miss.” The woman who Maggie had pegged as one of the lovebirds had been tapping since the storm ended. “I was able to get a call through.”

“You talked to someone?” Maggie asked.

“Yes. But only briefly before my call got dropped.”

“I’ll keep trying then. Let me know if either of you hear anything,” Hank said and he left for the stairs, taking the brightest light with him.

“I’m Maggie,” she told the woman.

For the first time, she looked up from her phone.

In the stark white light Maggie could see laugh lines around her mouth and at the corners of her eyes. She was probably in her late forties, maybe fifty. She was pretty with intense blue eyes and chin-length blond hair.

“I’m Beth,” she finally said. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the shoulder holster inside Maggie’s unbuttoned shirt. “You a cop?”

Maggie glanced around then bent down and lowered her voice. “FBI. I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it.”