compound fractures, but her bruised arms cradled her belly as she moaned painfully, gasping out
occasionally in Spanish. Her tangled black hair, scraped and dirty dark skin, and slight figure despite advanced pregnancy
stirred Gavin’s imagination enough to scare his racing heart.
But for the grace of God there be Amy,
he heard his mind say. He couldn’t remember where or how many times he’d heard those weirdly familiar words, but his mind
seized upon them and inserted Amy’s name, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Where is the grace of God for this one?
he countered to himself.
Two paramedics swooped in, one of them stepping between Gavin and the woman as if he weren’t there. He barely noticed them,
his mind still having a hard time placing Amy and his own unborn child at home, safe.
“What’s happening?” Chris asked, arriving at his side.
Gavin refocused, shook it off. “It’s under control,” he said, then started back, probably leaving Chris a little confused.
This reallywasn’t his job. The woman was getting plenty of attention, and he was needed elsewhere.
“Freaked ya out, huh?” said Chris, walking the track just behind him.
“What?”
“Made you think of Amy, didn’t she?” Chris went on, surprising Gavin that he’d put it together.
“Who?”
Chris snorted. “I read you like a book, Pierce.”
“Who are you,
Doctor
Grella?”
“Like—a—book.”
“Shut up and focus on this,” Gavin said, approaching the place where the rail was cut.
Gavin stepped into a small corral created by the yellow police tape. Chris passed him, murmuring something about a conversation
Gavin was no longer having. He needed to empty his mind of the tragedy around him and objectively zone in on what could have
happened here a few hours ago. He turned, looking beyond the immediate activity of emergency workers, stretchers, and artificial
lights. His eye followed the track until it disappeared around a bend. According to one of the survivors, the train’s horn
had been blaring before the derailment. Apparently the engineer had seen something or someone on the track. He tried to envision
the train’s approach. He followed the track through the many stretchers until he was looking down at his feet, then turned
and continued, his eyes on the rail.
“Who do you think this finger’s for?” Chris said.
“Huh?”
“The glove.”
“Oh… probably you.”
“Me?”
“To whom it may concern,” Gavin said, slipping on his own pair of latex gloves. He crouched down and picked up what looked
likehalf a C-clamp cut clean through—by a train wheel, Gavin figured. He noticed the clamp’s other half a few feet away, a short
piece of cut cable welded to it.
“What do you make of that?” Chris said.
“Someone did their homework. The rail carries a safe signal to the cab of any approaching train. A break in the signal, whether
the engineer is alert enough to realize it or not, will automatically cause the train to slow to a safe speed. This little
cable kept that signal alive with the rail cut. We’ll probably find the other half in the drink attached to a similar clamp,”
Gavin said, putting the severed clamp back exactly where he’d found it. He looked carefully at what appeared to be two modified
hydraulic jacks.
“I get the creepy feeling we’re dealing with someone who enjoys his work,” Chris said.
Gavin nodded. “Craft might be more like it. This wasn’t spur of the moment. Someone had to get the jacks, maybe at more than
one location, maybe ordered, since not every hardware store is going to carry a large supply of sixteen-ton jacks. The pipes
are cut smoothly… to exact lengths… no shims. Welds look clean, possibly professional.”
Chris crouched and examined what appeared to be two attached fire extinguishers, each tank about a foot and a half long and
four inches around. “Cute. A mini torch kit.”
“Did the job,” Gavin said as
occasionally in Spanish. Her tangled black hair, scraped and dirty dark skin, and slight figure despite advanced pregnancy
stirred Gavin’s imagination enough to scare his racing heart.
But for the grace of God there be Amy,
he heard his mind say. He couldn’t remember where or how many times he’d heard those weirdly familiar words, but his mind
seized upon them and inserted Amy’s name, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Where is the grace of God for this one?
he countered to himself.
Two paramedics swooped in, one of them stepping between Gavin and the woman as if he weren’t there. He barely noticed them,
his mind still having a hard time placing Amy and his own unborn child at home, safe.
“What’s happening?” Chris asked, arriving at his side.
Gavin refocused, shook it off. “It’s under control,” he said, then started back, probably leaving Chris a little confused.
This reallywasn’t his job. The woman was getting plenty of attention, and he was needed elsewhere.
“Freaked ya out, huh?” said Chris, walking the track just behind him.
“What?”
“Made you think of Amy, didn’t she?” Chris went on, surprising Gavin that he’d put it together.
“Who?”
Chris snorted. “I read you like a book, Pierce.”
“Who are you,
Doctor
Grella?”
“Like—a—book.”
“Shut up and focus on this,” Gavin said, approaching the place where the rail was cut.
Gavin stepped into a small corral created by the yellow police tape. Chris passed him, murmuring something about a conversation
Gavin was no longer having. He needed to empty his mind of the tragedy around him and objectively zone in on what could have
happened here a few hours ago. He turned, looking beyond the immediate activity of emergency workers, stretchers, and artificial
lights. His eye followed the track until it disappeared around a bend. According to one of the survivors, the train’s horn
had been blaring before the derailment. Apparently the engineer had seen something or someone on the track. He tried to envision
the train’s approach. He followed the track through the many stretchers until he was looking down at his feet, then turned
and continued, his eyes on the rail.
“Who do you think this finger’s for?” Chris said.
“Huh?”
“The glove.”
“Oh… probably you.”
“Me?”
“To whom it may concern,” Gavin said, slipping on his own pair of latex gloves. He crouched down and picked up what looked
likehalf a C-clamp cut clean through—by a train wheel, Gavin figured. He noticed the clamp’s other half a few feet away, a short
piece of cut cable welded to it.
“What do you make of that?” Chris said.
“Someone did their homework. The rail carries a safe signal to the cab of any approaching train. A break in the signal, whether
the engineer is alert enough to realize it or not, will automatically cause the train to slow to a safe speed. This little
cable kept that signal alive with the rail cut. We’ll probably find the other half in the drink attached to a similar clamp,”
Gavin said, putting the severed clamp back exactly where he’d found it. He looked carefully at what appeared to be two modified
hydraulic jacks.
“I get the creepy feeling we’re dealing with someone who enjoys his work,” Chris said.
Gavin nodded. “Craft might be more like it. This wasn’t spur of the moment. Someone had to get the jacks, maybe at more than
one location, maybe ordered, since not every hardware store is going to carry a large supply of sixteen-ton jacks. The pipes
are cut smoothly… to exact lengths… no shims. Welds look clean, possibly professional.”
Chris crouched and examined what appeared to be two attached fire extinguishers, each tank about a foot and a half long and
four inches around. “Cute. A mini torch kit.”
“Did the job,” Gavin said as
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