When The Right One Comes Along

Brought together by disaster. Kept together by love.

In the aftermath of a deadly earthquake, it’s chaos for trauma surgeon Jessica Hansen. Among the many victims, one patient stands out—San Diego Police K-9 search and rescue officer Cal Palmer.

Cal vows to help Kayla, a child orphaned by the disaster. But he needs Jessica’s help. Will their shared concern for Kayla and for his canine partner, Scout, allow them to put aside their personal torments and discover the difference love can make?

“Scout’s part of my life,” he said.

“That’s why I find it hard to take him to the department to stay in a cage,” Cal went on. “I know it’ll be hard on him.”

Jessica’s heart warmed for the big, gruff cop. To her way of thinking, how could someone not care about kids and dogs? But Cal seemed to, more than the average person.

He was a stranger, and she was thinking about turning her life upside down for him by offering to take care of Scout. How would she manage with a high-maintenance dog—and keep doing her job with the long hours, odd shifts and unpredictable emergencies? She reminded herself again why she didn’t have a pet, despite her love for animals.

But then she looked at Cal, saw the concern in his eyes, and her heart melted completely. She wanted to help them. She really did. But she couldn’t deny that part of the reason was the fact that she’d be able to see Cal.

Dear Reader,

This is the first book in my K-9 squad trilogy, and it’s the story of trauma surgeon Jessica Hansen and San Diego Police search and rescue officer Cal Palmer. Although I have always had a profound sense of gratitude for the men and women who dedicate their lives to law enforcement, through my research for this trilogy I gained an even greater appreciation for the bravery and dedication of canine officers and the intelligence and resourcefulness of police dogs.

Thank you for choosing to read Jessica and Cal’s story. I have frequently been asked with respect to my previous books if I planned to tell the story of any of the secondary characters in a sequel. The beauty of writing a trilogy is that we already know there will be two more books. If you enjoy When the Right One Comes Along, you won’t have to wait long for the second book in the trilogy, When Love Matters Most. The story of K-9 unit sergeant Rick Vasquez and veterinarian Madison Long is scheduled for release early in January 2016.

As always, I would love to hear from you! You can connect with me through my website, Facebook page, Twitter or regular mail.

Happy reading!

Kate

Website: Kate-James.com

Facebook: Facebook.com/KateJamesBooks

Twitter: @KateJamesBooks

Mailing address: PO Box 446, Schomberg, ON, L0G 1T0, Canada

When the Right One Comes Along

Kate James

KATE JAMES spent much of her childhood abroad before attending university in Canada. She built a successful business career, but her passion has always been literature. As a result, Kate turned her energy to her love of the written word. Kate’s goal is to entertain her readers with engaging stories featuring strong, likable characters. Kate has been honored with numerous awards for her writing. She and her husband, Ken, enjoy traveling and the outdoors with their beloved Labrador retrievers.

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Dedication

To Veronica Cohn She lives on in countless hearts

Acknowledgments

As always, I have to acknowledge my brilliant editor, Paula Eykelhof. I am grateful to her for her invaluable contributions to all my books. And much thanks to Victoria Curran for challenging me and all the Heartwarming authors to tell the very best stories we can.

I owe special thanks to York Regional Police (Ontario, Canada), and Constable Jim Hilton, in particular. Constable Hilton, a YRP canine unit officer and trainer, was generous with his time, resource materials and limitless knowledge as I conducted my research for this trilogy. I also thank him for introducing me to his explosives detection dog, Max, and demonstrating to me some of Max’s skills.

Finally I offer my sincere gratitude to all the men and women who dedicate their lives to law enforcement, to keep us safe and secure in a world where their jobs are becoming ever more complex.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

CALEN PALMER’S POLICE-ISSUED Ford Explorer veered sharply to the left, barely missing the large chunk of concrete, twisted rebar and other detritus strewn across the road. As he straightened the steering wheel, a blur of motion had him hitting the brakes hard.

The SUV skidded sideways on the dust-slicked road, shuddering to rest just inches from a wide-eyed woman. Her face and clothes were streaked with grime and blood, and she clutched a small bundle to her chest.

At the soft whine behind him, Cal looked over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Scout. You’re okay, pal,” he told his canine partner while he opened the driver’s door.

“Earthquake! We got an earthquake!” someone yelled. As if he didn’t know that already. But people were panicked and the guy must have been reacting to the San Diego Police Department markings on his vehicle.

Voices erupted all around as he ran to the woman.

He felt the surge of adrenaline. It was a baby she was holding. And the blanket was saturated with blood.

“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, as he gauged the severity of the cuts on the woman’s forehead and her right forearm, and checked her pupils for dilation.

“I... I’m okay,” she choked out through her sobs. “My baby. Lila...” She cast a terrified glance at the child she cradled against her.

“Let me see.” Cal eased back the blanket and scrutinized the tiny, scrunched-up face, the furiously working little mouth and the tightly fisted hands. The baby was alive. He did a quick, careful check. There were no obvious signs of trauma. The blood on the blanket was the woman’s, not the child’s.

“Your daughter appears to be fine,” he assured her. She didn’t respond, and he hoped she wasn’t going into shock. He had to leave. People’s lives depended on him and Scout, but he had to do what he could for the woman and her child.

A siren wailed, and Cal looked over at the ambulance barreling toward the intersection of University and West Washington. Dispatch had told him the triage area was set up in the parking lot of a nearby mall.

“Listen to me.” He shook the woman gently. “Listen, okay?” Finally, her gaze met his. “See where that ambulance is headed?” She nodded. “Go there. The hospital’s sent medical personnel. It’s not far. Maybe a five-minute walk. Have a doctor look at your baby. They’ll need to stitch up your arm, too.”

She stared at him, tears welling in her eyes.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded again, and was about to move away, but Cal glanced at the baby again and put a hand on her uninjured arm. “Wait a minute.”

He sprinted over to his truck, opened the passenger-side door and pulled a cotton sweatshirt from his duffel. Using a pocket knife, he tore off a sleeve as he ran back to the woman, and tied it around her arm as a makeshift bandage. He then quickly helped her remove the soiled blanket from her child and replaced it with the clean sweatshirt. The woman rested her forehead against her child’s, and murmured a thank-you. Cal tucked the cloth more snugly around the small form, and nudged the woman in the direction of the triage area. “Now go. Lila’ll be okay,” he said, and prayed he was right.

Jumping back into his vehicle, Cal continued to the incident command location he’d been given by dispatch. He veered around a crushed concrete column, toppled on its side. It was blocking part of the roadway, its upper half shattered, the exposed rebar bent and tangled. He knew the amount of force it took for concrete to fail, which didn’t bode well for what he’d see closer to the epicenter.

Cal was the newest member of the San Diego Police Department’s K-9 Unit, and wasn’t it just his luck that although San Diego was one of the California cities least prone to earthquakes, it had been hit by a massive one. He’d heard that the quake was 7.6 on the Richter scale. He could see the devastation all around him as he approached Incident Command. An elevated section of the highway had collapsed, and portions of the road surface had heaved and buckled. A rippled concrete parapet wall leaned precariously over the roadway. Two low-rise buildings and a parking garage had also collapsed.

Cal pulled into the cordoned-off area that had been designated as Incident Command, and parked behind another SDPD vehicle.

Cops, firefighters, paramedics and panicked civilians were everywhere.

Cal recognized Riker, another officer with the department. He was in a huddle with a tall, plain-clothed man and a firefighter. Cal surmised that the man in plain clothes was the incident commander. He left Scout in the vehicle and went to join them. Introductions were made; he’d been right about the third man. His name was Williams and he was in charge.

“It looks bad,” Cal remarked. “Do we have any idea of the numbers yet?”

Williams shook his head. “Too soon to tell how many injuries and fatalities we’ll have. The fact that it’s late on a Friday afternoon might work to our advantage.” He jerked his head toward the collapsed structures. “They housed offices mostly. Let’s hope a lot of the workers cut out early.”

Cal scrutinized the buildings. One had collapsed in on itself. Most of the floor appeared to be intact, if skewed. Best-case scenario, the people inside had time to find shelter near the load-bearing walls and would have survived. The condition of the other building was far worse. A couple of the lower floors had crashed down on top of each other. There couldn’t have been much room for people left inside.

Cal heard Scout’s muffled bark and knew his partner was anxious to get to work. He was always impressed by how intuitive police dogs were, sensing when they were needed. “Is it safe to go in?” Cal asked the commander. He’d done lots of search-and-rescues in the five months he’d been in San Diego and in his decade on the job with the Lincoln Police Department in Nebraska before then, but he’d never had to deal with an earthquake before. Sadly, there was a first time for everything.

“I think they’re clearing it now.” The firefighter motioned to a group of men near the entrance to one of the buildings. “But there’s always the possibility of aftershocks.” He glanced over at Cal’s SUV, clearly marked as part of the K-9 Unit. “You plan to go in?”

Cal studied the buildings, considered the risks involved. He thought about Haley and forced the image of his little girl with her blonde ringlets out of his mind. She wouldn’t know if he lived or died. He shrugged. “It’s why we’re here. It’s what Scout and I do.”

The commander gestured to one of the men by the building “We’ve got the all clear.”

“Thanks.” Cal shook hands with Williams, Riker and the firefighter before jogging to his vehicle. He opened the back door and signaled for Scout to jump out. Scout yipped excitedly and Cal took a moment to rub the dog’s head and ruffle his fur, then attached his leash to his collar. Knowing it would be dry, dusty work and with no idea how long it would be before they could take a break, he gave Scout a drink from a water bottle.

With another hand signal, he alerted Scout that he was now officially on duty, and they headed toward the collapsed buildings and the men gathered on the roadway in front of them.

* * *

JESSICA HANSEN HAD been at Ocean Crest Hospital when the earthquake hit. Because of its severity, the hospital had immediately activated its critical incident response plan, including the deployment of the trauma team. The trauma team was responsible for onsite triaging and treating the injured, and dispatching those who needed additional care to the hospital. As a trauma surgeon, Jessica would’ve been called in regardless, but being at the hospital made it easier for her to mobilize a team and get to the site.

Ocean Crest was the closest hospital to the earthquake’s epicenter, where most of the injured would be, and no more than a few miles from where they were setting up the triage area. A 7.6 quake was virtually unheard of in San Diego, but as a trauma doc she’d experienced quakes of a much lower magnitude that still had significant consequences. She knew this would be serious.

Thank heaven the hospital itself was largely unaffected by the quake. But then it had been designed to higher standards to ensure that it did. From the reports already coming in, they’d need all available resources, both human and physical.

In the hour since Jessica, the other trauma docs and a few of the emergency room nurses had set up at the designated triage site, she’d already seen at least a dozen people, and there were many more waiting.

She swiped impatiently at the sweat and loose strands of hair on her forehead as she finished splinting an elderly man’s badly fractured forearm, and sent him off to the hospital.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she counted slowly to ten. She had to stay sharp, she reminded herself. She couldn’t be unsettled by the young boy she’d treated and sent to the hospital just before the older man. The boy had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. Her vision blurred and she swallowed hard against the nausea. If she gave in, she’d be no good to anyone.

She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. “You okay, Jess?”

Jessica slid her clammy hand over her brow and turned. Marcia Rodrigues stood behind her, the furrows on her forehead more pronounced than usual, concern evident on her face. The gray-haired nurse, now in her sixties, had worked in the emergency room at Ocean Crest longer than Jessica’s thirty-one years, but they’d formed a strong bond—both professional and personal. “It was the boy, wasn’t it?” Marcia asked.

Jessica passed her hand lightly over Marcia’s. “Yes, and thank you. I’m okay now.” She glanced around. “Did anyone else notice?”

“No. Of course not. I just know you well.”

Jessica was certain that her episode and the subsequent exchange with Marcia took no more than a minute. But a minute could mean life or death in a crisis situation. She silently berated herself for her lapse. After all, this was why she’d given up pediatric surgery in favor of trauma. If she couldn’t maintain her composure under these conditions, she had to ask herself if she was fit to practice medicine at all.

Jessica barely had time to finish the thought when Marcia brought her the next patient. It wasn’t a child; she knew Marcia well enough that she didn’t think she’d be seeing more children that day, but she was still relieved.

But she was in charge. She shouldn’t have to be protected.

Most importantly, she could not, would not, fall apart. “Focus, Hansen,” she ordered herself under her breath as she examined the mangled leg of the woman in front of her.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER A GENERAL outline of strategy with the other first responders, Cal and Scout went to work. They started with the least damaged building first. They were gratified to have some quick wins—people relatively uninjured and easily extracted. They cleared the first building, then did a fast sweep of the perimeter of the other building and adjacent parking garage. When they were done, no fewer than two dozen people had been helped out of the rubble, most requiring only minor medical attention.

But now it was time for the hard work. Scout and Cal had to go into the more severely damaged building. Cal knew, too, that his unit mate, Hal Robinson, and his cadaver dog, Max, were on scene. Cal hated that. He and Robinson got along well enough, but he hated to lose a person to Robinson and Max. Cal wanted to find people alive and rescue them. It was still their turn, his and Scout’s. He intended to make it a slow day for Robinson and Max.

He and Scout now had to locate the people trapped deeper inside the building and likely requiring more assistance, whether because of injury or where they were. Those they’d been able to rescue said they had coworkers and friends still inside.

Cal and the other first responders had a quick huddle with the incident commander and the city’s engineers, and mapped out a course of action.

Cal gave Scout some more water, stroked the fur on his head. “Okay, pal. Ready to go?”

A short bark confirmed Scout’s willingness. Along with two firefighters, they headed off toward the more damaged building once more.

Since they couldn’t access the interior from street level due to the collapsed floors, they were lowered through the central core by a boom. The city engineers had advised Cal that the building was nearly identical in design to the other, with a central atrium, but in this case, the atrium had held and the floors had collapsed. It wasn’t going to be an easy rescue. Even after all his years as a cop, he still found it exceedingly difficult to deal with death. He hoped he wouldn’t have to encounter it today.

They were in the bowels of the building and had cleared an area that must have been a coffee shop. They headed to the next space when Scout alerted, and started to dig at an area where a doorway had collapsed. This was not a passive indication. There was someone trapped on the other side. Cal shone his headlight around. They were near the center of the floor plate where the building seemed to have crumpled. The upper floors had caved in. He couldn’t see any way into the area Scout had indicated. He ordered Scout to lie down and stay, dropped onto his knees where the dog had been digging and called out. In the relative silence he listened for a response. Gave it a moment.

Nothing.

He tried again. And waited.

Scout’s agitation was obvious. The dog sprang up despite Cal’s command and started digging at the rubble again. Scout’s training was such that he would’ve kept digging until he got through, but he would have injured himself badly on the shards of glass and other sharp edges in the debris. His behavior was a sure sign that there was someone in there. Cal ordered Scout to stand down again. Just when he was about to call out once more, he heard a noise. A cough.

It was a child. A young child. He called out again. Calmly, reassuringly, despite his fear.

He heard a couple more scratchy coughs before the sound turned into hiccupping sobs.

“Can you hear me?” Cal shouted.

After some soft sniffles, he heard a hesitant, “Yes.”

“Okay. I’m with the police and I’m going to help you.”

Cal heard whimpers this time.

“What’s your name?”

There was a pause, another sniffle. “Kayla.”

“Okay, Kayla. Are you hurt?”

“I... I don’t know. But my mom...”

“Your mother is with you?” Cal felt a chill permeate his bones.

“Yes. She...she’s sleeping.”

Oh, God. “All right, Kayla, try to stay calm, and I’ll get you out.”

“When?” she asked hesitantly. “It’s dark in here. I’m scared.” Her voice quavered. “And Mommy... Mommy’s sleeping. I can’t...can’t wake her up.”

“Listen, Kayla. I’ll get you out,” he repeated. “Real soon.” Cal hoped he could keep his promise.

He yanked his radio off his belt. “I’ve got a child here. Condition unknown. With her mother. She says her mother is asleep.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She hasn’t been able to rouse her. I’m betting unconscious.” He paused. “At best.” He flashed the light around. “It doesn’t look good down here,” he reported to Command.

“Can you get to them from where you are?” Williams asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“All right. We’re sending you help.”

“Make it fast. I don’t know how much time we have.” He was worried about the oxygen supply where the kid and her mother were. He had to do what he could to get some airflow in. He scanned the area around him and found a couple of metal scoops. Based on their size, he assumed they were decorative, but they could’ve been used for beans in the coffee shop. The good news was they were sturdy enough to be functional. He gave Scout another firm command when the dog started digging, then he used a scoop to clear away debris in an attempt to make an opening. All the while, he tried to keep up a conversation with Kayla.

His radio crackled, and the incident commander’s voice came on. “A firefighter is on his way down to you. Have you made any progress?”

“No.” He heard the frustration in his own voice.

“Can you get to her with help?”

He almost groaned from exertion and exasperation. He heaved away a large chunk of concrete. “I doubt it. Not from here,” he growled. He’d hardly scratched the surface.

“Do you have an update on her condition?”

Cal lowered his voice. “Alive. Other than that, I don’t know.” He moved away, just in case the girl could hear him. “Her voice is fading. I don’t know how much oxygen there is. The doorway here is sealed solid, and wouldn’t be a source of air for her and her mother.”

Cal heard some background chatter.

“Okay,” the incident commander said, “we’ve got the building plans. Let’s locate her so we can determine if there’s another way in.”

After a hurried conversation, they decided that the girl and her mother were likely trapped in an interior corridor, and the elevator shaft would be the only feasible way to get to her. The firefighter they sent in arrived while Cal was still on the radio.

“We’ll need you and your dog to help us locate her from the other end,” the commander said. “Come on out and leave Mark—” referring to the new arrival “—to keep the girl calm.”

“Ten-four.” Cal moved back to the doorway and signaled for Mark to join him. “Kayla?” he called out.

Nothing.

“Kayla,” he shouted, trying to keep the rising panic from his voice. “Can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh,” came the subdued answer. “I’m sleepy. I’m going to lie down and go to sleep with Mommy.”

Cal’s eyes locked on Mark’s momentarily, and he knew they shared the same fear. Kayla was running out of oxygen. “I know you’re tired, Kayla, but please try to stay awake for me, okay? Don’t move around but try to stay awake. Can you do that?”