“What about Josiah?”
“Detective Brewer had to stop pursuit when he saw the woman in the road, but there are reports that his truck was destroyed by a tornado just to the north of that spot. That appears to be accurate. Now, Mrs. McKinney, I’ve got to deal with my officers. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Anne said. And it was. She was desperate for updates, but the dispatcher was overwhelmed and she knew she had to be silent for a while. Silent and patient. They’d give her the news eventually, and they’d remember to send someone down here to get her out of the basement. There was no rush on such things. She’d done what she could.
She looked at the old ham radio and felt tears crest in her eyes. How she wished Harold could have known the role it had played today. The role she had played today.
Her only regret was that she hadn’t seen the storms. So long she had waited to see a tornado. She was afraid of tornadoes, yes, but always in awe. Captivated by what they were and what they could do. She’d read so much about them, studied them so carefully, and still she’d never seen one. Now four had blown through the valley in under an hour and all she’d gotten to see of them was that first trailing wall cloud.
That was all right, though. People had been saved today. Josiah Bradford was apparently dead, and that was tragic in its own way because she knew that something had been in the boy’s head today that wasn’t right. But he’d died alone, without taking any innocents with him, without striking at her beloved hotel as he’d threatened. That hotel was beauty that had outlasted darkness and sorrow, and she’d been determined to do whatever she could to protect it.
A storm spotter, that’s what she was. Ever vigilant, determined to spot the warning signs and relay them in enough time to help the people in this valley. Well, she’d certainly done that today. It wasn’t the sort of storm she’d envisioned, but she’d gotten the chance to help that she always knew she would. For so many years she’d watched the skies and waited with quiet assurance that she would be needed.
Today she had been.
It felt good.
Around the area, storm reports were still coming in, but it looked as if the tornado that had struck just west of Wesley Chapel would be the last of the cluster outbreak. That put it at four total, not a staggering number for such a storm, but not insignificant either. They’d be clearing up damage for a long time to come. She hadn’t heard of any deaths yet besides Josiah’s, and that was good. You could put buildings back up. Couldn’t restore a life.
She might have dozed a little at the desk. Must have slipped off for just a minute. The sound was what woke her—a hum that seemed to be growing louder, getting closer.
She turned in her chair and looked up at the little windows mounted at the top of the western wall and was shocked to realize that she could see through them. Always before they’d been useless to her except to filter in a tiny bit of sunlight; they were no more than ten inches tall, placed right at ground level, and made of thick block glass. Somehow, from this angle, they offered a perfect look toward the west. She could see the fields rolling away downhill, and at the horizon a band of dark clouds.
The humming increased to a roar, and something white descended from the dark clouds, and Anne realized with utter astonishment that she was facing a tornado.
First things first—the radio. Do your job, Annabelle. Do your job.
She made a dispatch, curt and to the point—gave her coordinates and said a funnel cloud was on the ground, moving north-northeast. Several of the spotters fired off responses, asking if she was safe, urging her to get as far from the exterior walls as possible. She said thank you and then turned the radio off and rose from her chair.
The cloud seemed to have held almost stationary while she completed the dispatch. Now that she turned back, it was moving again, as if it had been waiting for her.
She got to her feet, thinking that she wanted to walk over to the windows and see if she could get a closer look. The walls of the house were trembling now, and when she walked past the base of the steps, she saw a shaft of light fall across her feet and looked up to see that the door was open. The shaking of the house had evidently knocked away whatever Josiah Bradford had placed as an obstacle up there.
Safest place to be was in the basement, of course, but suddenly that didn’t seem to matter. She wanted to see this storm. She’d been waiting so long to see one, and it was fitting that on a day like today, when she’d finally been able to play the role she always knew was hers, she would have the opportunity. It felt like a gift, almost, like this one was intended just for her.