The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) by Deborah D. Moore

injuries? You look
fine.”
    Christine brushed aside her bangs with the
tips of her fingers, revealing the now deep purple bruise and the
stitches on her forehead. Mary Jane flinched.
    “I’m going to take a few days off,” Christine
announced. “Paid days. And here’s the packet from the session. It
explains everything the speaker told us about filling in the
forms.” She dropped the neatly stapled papers on the table and
stood.
    “You can’t just leave. We need you here,”
Mary Jane said grabbing Christine’s arm in anger.
    Christine looked down at the woman’s hand
restraining her. “I have a Bachelor’s degree in Public Health, a
year of pre-med, and I’m a state licensed dental hygienist with
several years of experience and you need me to fill out
insurance forms? Get your hands off of me before I add assault to
the lawsuit I intend to file.”
    The office manager backed away.
     
    ***
     
    Christine stepped out of the low office
building into the crisp fall day. A light breeze ruffled her short
blonde hair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the
fragrant air. When she opened her eyes again, she caught sight of
yet another T’N’M convenience store. Heading across the street, she
wondered if Trevor would really call her. His collar length long
brown hair added to his boyish good looks, and his dark brown eyes
are what really caught her. He was a handsome man.
    She pushed on the glass door of T’N’M’s to
find it locked. No lights were on inside the store, and the
security gates were down. Odd , she thought.
    Her next stop was to the shop that took care
of her car. After leaving it there for repairs and to let them
fight with the insurance company over the damage, she took a cab
home, knowing her father’s dark blue SUV was parked in the garage
and she could use that for as long as she needed.
    It was now noon. Those few hours of sleep
weren’t enough to wash away the aches and pains of the last few
days. Christine stripped off her clothes and crawled back into
bed.
    At 5:15pm, the ringtone of her smartphone
broke through her sleep fogged brain. She slipped on her fluffy
pale green bathrobe and stumbled to the kitchen, looking for the
phone which had already stopped ringing. The caller ID gave a local
number that was only vaguely familiar so she let it go, not
noticing there had been another call earlier from the same number.
She yawned and headed to the bathroom for another shower to help
wake her up, her stomach grumbling with hunger. The phone rang
again a few minutes later, although she couldn’t hear it with the
water running.
     
    ***
     
    Trevor hung up the phone, concerned that
Christine wasn’t picking up her calls. What if that bump on the
head gave her a concussion and she was unconscious? His worried
mind assailed his common sense. He decided that a visit was in
order, but he had a couple of stops to make first.
     
    ***
     
    Trevor let himself in through the back door
of the Exit 31 store early in the morning. With the heavy traffic
of the last two days, he felt it prudent to close the doors for a
while and cancelled the day shift.
    That morning Trevor had asked Riley, his most
trusted employee, to open the Spring Hill store instead of the Exit
31 store, and to stay there until Trevor relieved him, promising to
arrive no later than noon. Trevor had a very uneasy feeling about
what was going on and decided to make a few more phone calls. The
first one, to his main supplier, confirmed his worst fears: the
earthquake two days before had interrupted not only his shipments, but everyone’s. Food was going to run out, and fast.
What food was left in his three stores would last him personally
quite a while if he stopped selling it. It was a difficult decision
to make since most of his life had been focused on making money. It
was also an easy decision to make; Trevor was a survivor.
    After securing all the security gates and
lowering the shades, Trevor shut the lights out and