Beneath Rough Hands (Small Town Secrets #1)

Chapter 1 Midnight Breakdown

The rain had refused to let up for hours.

Julian Vance tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the downpour. Every muscle in his shoulders ached. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and the dull headache that had settled behind them hours earlier refused to fade.

Fourteen hours.

That was how long his shift had stretched.

It had started before sunrise with routine transports and minor injuries.

By lunchtime, the station had answered a multi-vehicle collision on the interstate.

The afternoon brought a cardiac arrest, an elderly fall victim, and a teenager suffering an allergic reaction during football practice.

Every call demanded absolute focus. Every patient needed someone calm enough to make the right decision in the worst moments of their lives.

Julian had given them that.

He always did.

It was the one promise he had never broken, no matter how exhausted he became.

The patient resting on the stretcher behind him was finally sleeping after receiving treatment for severe dehydration. His partner, Owen Brooks, sat in the passenger seat updating electronic reports on a tablet while occasionally glancing through the rain-splattered windshield.

"You still with me?" Owen asked without looking up.

Julian let out a tired breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

"Barely."

"You look like you've been awake for three days."

"It feels like it."

Owen finally lifted his eyes from the screen and studied him for a moment.

"You should've taken those vacation days."

Julian smiled faintly.

"And spend them doing what?"

"Anything besides living inside an ambulance."

"I tried that once."

"How'd it go?"

"I got bored after six hours."

Owen shook his head.

"You're impossible."

Maybe he was.

Helping people had always been the easiest part of Julian's life. Living outside the uniform was where things became complicated.

Back in Chicago, he had convinced himself that working harder would eventually silence the memories.

It hadn't.

The city had never truly slept. Sirens echoed through every neighborhood at every hour.

Every shift blended into the next until days lost their meaning.

He had watched experienced medics walk away because they couldn't carry another tragedy home with them.

He had promised himself he wouldn't become one of them.

Then came the pediatric call.

Even now, months later, he could still hear the frantic parents screaming. He remembered kneeling on a hardwood floor while rain pounded against another window hundreds of miles away. He remembered doing everything exactly as he had been trained to do.

Sometimes training wasn't enough.

Sometimes medicine lost.

After that night, every ambulance siren sounded different.

Every child reminded him of the one he couldn't save.

His supervisors insisted he take leave. Friends suggested therapy. His mother begged him to come home.

Instead, Julian accepted a transfer to Ashcroft, a quiet mountain town where emergencies were supposed to be fewer, life slower, and memories easier to outrun.

He had been wrong about the last part.

Some ghosts learned how to travel.

The radio crackled.

"Station Six, status update."

Julian reached for the microphone.

"Rig 4 returning with one stable patient. Approximately twenty-two minutes from Memorial."

"Copy that, Rig 4."

The transmission ended.

Silence settled inside the ambulance once again, broken only by the steady hum of the engine and the drumming rain.

Julian adjusted the heater another notch. The damp cold had crept through his uniform hours ago, settling into his bones. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen muscles that felt permanently locked.

"You ever regret moving here?" Owen asked quietly.

The question lingered between them.

Julian considered lying.

Instead, he answered honestly.

"Some days."

"And the other days?"

"I remind myself why I left."

Owen nodded without pressing further.

Everyone at Station Six knew Julian had transferred from a major city after burnout. No one knew the whole story.

Julian intended to keep it that way.

The ambulance suddenly lurched beneath them.

A sharp warning chime echoed through the cab.

Julian frowned.

"What was that?"

Another alarm sounded.

A red warning light illuminated the dashboard.

ENGINE TEMPERATURE HIGH.

He eased off the accelerator.

"That's not good."

Owen looked up immediately.

"We just had maintenance."

"I know."

The temperature gauge climbed steadily toward the red zone.

Julian frowned harder.

"No... come on..."

Steam suddenly curled from beneath the hood.

The engine lost power.

The ambulance slowed despite Julian pressing harder on the accelerator.

Another warning light flashed.

ENGINE POWER REDUCED.

The steering grew heavy.

Julian guided the ambulance carefully toward the shoulder while keeping the ride smooth enough not to disturb their patient.

Behind them, the flashing emergency lights reflected off the rain-soaked highway.

The engine coughed.

Once.

Twice.

Then everything went frighteningly quiet.

The ambulance rolled to a complete stop.

Julian rested both hands on the steering wheel and closed his eyes for one long second.

"Please tell me that didn't just happen," Owen muttered.

"I wish I could."

Julian tried restarting the engine.

The starter clicked.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Only silence answered.

Outside, the storm intensified.

Rain hammered against the roof with enough force to drown out distant thunder.

Julian immediately switched into professional mode.

"Owen, check on our patient."

Already moving, Owen disappeared into the rear compartment.

Julian grabbed the radio.

"Dispatch, this is Rig 4."

"Go ahead, Rig 4."

"We've experienced a complete mechanical failure on Route 9 near Mile Marker Forty-Seven. Engine shutdown. One stable patient onboard. Request immediate assistance and transport support."

There was a brief pause filled with static.

"Copy, Rig 4. Stand by."

Julian leaned back against the seat.

His heartbeat remained calm despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Panicking never solved mechanical failures.

Or medical emergencies.

Or broken lives.

He looked through the windshield at the empty highway stretching endlessly ahead.

Not a single pair of headlights appeared in either direction.

Only rain.

Only darkness.

Only the faint pulse of the ambulance's emergency lights reflecting against wet pavement.

Dispatch returned.

"Rig 4, nearest transport unit is approximately twenty-eight minutes away due to weather."

Julian rubbed a tired hand across his face.

"Understood."

"We've also contacted Cooper Auto Repair. They're the municipal fleet contractor."

Julian had heard the name during orientation.

The town trusted Cooper Auto with every police cruiser, fire engine, and ambulance.

"They're sending the owner personally."

Julian glanced through the windshield again.

"Estimated arrival?"

"Approximately fifteen minutes."

He released a slow breath.

"Copy that."

The radio clicked silent.

Fifteen minutes.

In good weather, it would have been an inconvenience.

Tonight it felt much longer.

Julian stepped out into the storm.

Cold rain immediately soaked through his jacket as he walked toward the front of the ambulance. Steam continued rising from beneath the hood before being swallowed by the wind.

He crouched beside the front grille, more out of habit than expectation. He knew enough about emergency vehicles to recognize obvious problems, but this was beyond anything he could safely diagnose on the roadside.

The storm carried the scent of wet pine, diesel fuel, and overheated metal.

He pulled his collar higher against the wind.

Minutes crawled past.

Then, far down the highway, two bright headlights pierced the darkness.

Unlike passing traffic, these lights slowed as they approached.

A large tow truck emerged through the curtain of rain, its amber warning lights flashing against the soaked pavement.

The vehicle turned smoothly onto the shoulder behind the stranded ambulance.

Its engine rumbled with quiet confidence.

Julian straightened as the driver's door opened.

A broad-shouldered figure climbed down into the storm, pulling on a work jacket before striding toward the disabled ambulance with the steady assurance of someone who had spent years solving other people's problems in weather just like this.

For reasons Julian couldn't explain, exhaustion seemed to lift from his shoulders for the first time all night.

He watched the stranger approach through the rain, illuminated by flashing emergency lights and streaks of lightning across the distant sky.

Something told him this unexpected breakdown was about to change far more than the rest of his shift.

The Mechanic in the Rain

The ringing of the emergency phone shattered the quiet that had settled over Cooper Auto Repair.

Jax Cooper looked up from beneath the lifted pickup truck occupying Bay Three.

The old shop echoed with the steady patter of rain drumming against its corrugated metal roof, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the mountains.

It was well past midnight, the hour when most businesses in Ashcroft sat dark and silent, but the garage rarely slept.

Emergency vehicles didn't keep office hours.

Neither did the mechanic responsible for keeping them on the road.

Jax slid himself out from beneath the truck, wiping grease from his forearms with a faded shop rag before crossing the concrete floor.

The familiar scent of motor oil, welding metal, rubber, and old pine filled the building, wrapping around him like a second skin.

He picked up the receiver before the second ring.

"Cooper Auto."

"Evening, Jax," the dispatcher said. "Sorry to wake you."

"You didn't."

That wasn't entirely true.