Chapter 1
Gwen was awake when they buckled her into the Stokes basket to lower her from the ruin. An improbably good-looking fireman
with the cleft chin and blue eyes of a comic book Superman was bent anxiously over her, doing up the straps.
“Hey there, Jett Nighswander,” Gwen croaked, and Jett’s gaze darted to her face. “You want to leave this to someone else and
go dig your mama out.”
“Oh, God,” he said in a watery, unsteady voice.
“Don’t you worry,” Gwen said. “Your mom is the kinda person just won’t stay buried. She got under a table. Think she’s all
right. Go see.”
“I got this, Jett,” said his partner, a freckly woman who smiled down at Gwen to show the gap between her teeth. “Lady, you
got so much grit in your hair, you look like you just come from the beach.”
“How’d you know?” Gwen asked.