Page 7 of Still Afraid

But it was too late. She had rounded the back end of the pop-up and saw the man smashed between the tree and the camper.

She spun and closed her eyes, willing her mind to erase the image. “Is he gone?”

After a short pause, Josh said, “He’s gone.”

She walked away, knowing there was nothing she could do, and knelt.

Poirot came to her side and nosed her. She hugged his neck, nuzzling her head against the dog’s. He always knew when she needed his support.

Josh and Lance would take care of reporting the location and situation so another team could come remove the body properly.

Chloe inhaled slowly in an attempt to settle her stomach, but the scent of wet dog didn’t help. If she could get her mind fully locked into SAR mode, she’d be fine. But the terror she’d experienced—realizing if that tornado had touched down any sooner, she and Josh and Poirot could have met a similar fate to the man in the camper …

God, help me. Help me hold it together right now.

Josh glanced at Chloe where she sat with Poirot thirty feet away. He wished he’d been able to keep her from seeing the deceased man. Even a year ago he might not have noticed how she was handling everything, but while they were not one flesh yet, he could sense the anxiety eating at her insides. Having to jump into a search was a mixed blessing for her—for him too. She’d healed so much in the last six months. He prayed the scare of today’s tornado didn’t set her back. He wanted to see her thrive, not simply survive.

Lance bumped Josh’s arm with his elbow. “Go to her. There’s nothing we can do for this guy.”

Josh nodded, walked over to Chloe, and knelt beside her. He tugged her close, and she collapsed against him. He didn’t know what to say. Telling her it was all going to be okay would be an empty platitude. Even if it was true—one way or another they’d all survive—that didn’t mean a difficult road was not still ahead of them.

She pushed off of him. “I’m fine—or at least I will be. I need to not sulk right now. People need our help, and that matters more.”

“Not more than your own wellbeing.”

A warm smile lifted her cheeks. “But I have you. And I know you’ll hold me later and let me cry out all the pent-up emotion. I’ll get through it, so my wellbeing isn’t a concern.” She stood and offered him a hand; he took it. “Jesus will sustain me, and He gave me you to help with that.” She winked.

Once on his feet, Josh hugged her close. “I love you.”

“I know.” She kissed his cheek and spun out of his arms.

He laughed breathlessly. His only regret in life was that he didn’t pursue her sooner.

The team that would document and collect the body arrived, so Josh and his team handed the scene over to them.

Chloe gave Poirot the command to search, and three humans followed the dog as he continued sniffing the air and ground. These searches were a little different than their normal jobs when they gave Poirot a specific scent to search for, but the dog was stupid-smart and understood what to do even without a particular mission.

The campground was situated along a river, and it seemed the tornado had used the river as its thoroughfare. The damage swept the width of the campground and continued until the hill rose to an uncampable steepness. It was as if the hill on the southeast had kept the tornado on its deadly path.

Trees with deep roots were snapped in half. But a few bigger trees, whose height and weight outdid the depth of their roots, were completely toppled over, roots splayed to the sky.

Camping gear and personal belongings—clothes, toiletries, and such—mixed into the debris from the dismembered flora.

People mulled about, starting to search through the wreckage of their camping trip. Josh, Chloe, and Lance talked with a few, then continued on.

Poirot sniffed a pile of debris, barked, and started digging at the pile.

“What is it, boy?” Chloe asked as if she’d get a vocal reply from the K9.

He barked again.

Chloe and Josh both dropped to their knees and dug with Poirot.

The dog pulled out a baby doll in a red gingham dress. Josh’s heart lurched. Was there a little girl in this pile too?

Poirot’s tail wagged at a speed that threatened to make it fly off. He barked around the doll in his mouth.

Chloe put out her hand. “Drop it.”