Riverbend Road Read Free

crackle of flames. Heat and flames poured off the building.
    She pressed the button on the radio at her shoulder to call dispatch. “I’ve got a structure fire, an old barn on Darwin Twitchell’s property on Conifer Drive, just before Riverbend Road. The upper part seems to be fully engulfed and there’s a possibility of civilians inside, juveniles. I’ve got bikes here but no kids in sight. I’m still looking.”
    While she raced around the building, she heard the call go out to the volunteer fire department and Chief Gallegos respond that his crews were six minutes out.
    â€œAnybody here?” she called again.
    Just faintly, she thought she heard a high cry in response but her radio crackled with static at that instant and she couldn’t be sure. A second later, she heard Cade’s voice.
    â€œBailey, this is Chief Emmett. What’s the status of the kids? Over.”
    She hurried back to her vehicle and popped the trunk. “I can’t see them,” she answered tersely, digging for a couple of water bottles and an extra T-shirt she kept back there. “I’m going in.”
    â€œNegative!” Cade’s urgency fairly crackled through the radio. “The first fire crew’s ETA is now four minutes. Stand down.”
    She turned back to the fire and was almost positive the flames seemed to be crackling louder, the smoke billowing higher into the sky. She couldn’t stand the thought of children being caught inside that hellish scene. She couldn’t. She pushed away the memory of those tiny charred bodies.
    Maybe whoever had tripped Darwin’s alarms—maybe the same kids who likely set the fire—had run off into the surrounding trees. She hoped so, she really did, but her gut told her otherwise.
    In four minutes, they could be burned to a crisp, just like those sweet little kids in Boise. She had to take a look.
    It’s what her father would have done.
    You know what John Wayne would say , John Bailey’s voice seemed to echo in her head. Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.
    Yeah, Dad. I know.
    Her hands were sweaty with fear but she pushed past it and focused on the situation at hand. “I’m going in,” she repeated.
    â€œStand down, Officer Bailey. That is a direct order.”
    Cade ran a fairly casual—though efficient—police department and rarely pushed rank but right now he sounded hard, dangerous.
    She paused for only a second, her attention caught by sunlight glinting off one of the bikes.
    â€œWynona, do you copy?” Cade demanded.
    She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand out here and wait for the fire department. Time was of the essence, she knew it in her bones. After nearly five years as a police officer, she had learned to rely on her instincts and she couldn’t ignore them now.
    She was just going to have to disregard his order and deal with his fury later.
    â€œI can’t hear you,” she lied. “Sorry. You’re crackling out.”
    She squelched her radio to keep him out of her ears, ripped the T-shirt and doused it with her water bottle, then held it to her mouth and pushed inside.
    The shift from sunlight to smoke and darkness inside the barn was disorienting. As she had seen from outside, the flames seemed to be limited for now to the upper hayloft of the barn but the air was thick and acrid.
    â€œHello?” she called out. “Anybody here?”
    â€œYes! Help!”
    â€œPlease help!”
    Two distinct, high, terrified voices came from the far end of the barn.
    â€œOkay. Okay,” she called back, her heart pounding fiercely. “Keep talking so I can follow your voice.”
    There was a momentary pause. “What should we say?”
    â€œSing a song. How about ‘Jingle Bells’? Here. I’ll start.”
    She started the words off and then stopped when she heard two young voices singing the words between sobs. She