The nurse didn't argue. She found the number and made the call.
'It's ringing,' she whispered.
'How's her husband doing?' Nate asked the tech.
'Mr. MacKenna expired a few minutes ago. That's why we were trying to get hold of Mrs. MacKenna. She had hoped to be by her husband's side. She's a devoted wife. And he was so self-destructive. But she knew he was dying-she's prepared for it.'
'Voice mail answered on the fourth ring,' the nurse said. 'Should I leave a message?'
He shook his head and reached for the phone. 'Get me an outside line. I've got to call this in.'
Chapter Forty
Vanessa was about to become a terrified woman, running for her life.
She needed to look the part. She ran halfway down the hill, turned toward the driveway, closed her eyes, then threw herself on her left knee and struck the cement. The skin split just as she'd hoped, and the cut began to bleed. Stumbling to her feet, she kicked one shoe off and deliberately fell into the shrubbery. She instinctively protected her face with her arms, but when she looked, there were cuts and scratches everywhere. She rolled over and made sure there were twigs and a blade of grass or two in her hair and dirt on her face. Her knee was throbbing-a small price to pay for the millions she would inherit. She checked her watch again just to see how much time she still had.
She hadn't thought to rip her clothes, but when she staggered to her feet, she heard her skirt tear. Nice touch, she thought, tearing it just a bit more.
It was almost time to make the call. She'd already moved Ewan's car to the end of the drive at the bottom of the hill, and she'd parked her car behind his. It had to be out of harms way when the house blew, and she'd be able to tell the police that Ewan blocked the drive and she couldn't get any closer. There was so much detail to the planning. Nothing could be overlooked.
It was ironic that she really did fall down when she was just a few feet away from her car door. She even bumped her forehead on the fender.
She got the door open and slid into the driver's seat. Her gaze locked on her watch as the seconds ticked by. Less than three minutes remained. Perfect timing. She glanced up at the old Victorian brick mansion at the top of the hill and laughed to herself. To think that she'd ever want such a monstrosity was ludicrous. The old man hadn't done anything in thirty years to update or maintain it. It was just a huge, ugly monument to his mean and selfish life.
She knew she was supposed to wait until after the explosion to make the call, but she thought it would be more convincing if she were on the line pleading for help when the house exploded.
Two minutes to go. Now, she thought. She pushed 9-1-1.
An operator answered on the first ring.
'What is your emergency?'
'Please, please help me,' she cried out. 'He's got a bomb, and he's going to kill her. I got out, but she's still inside the house with him, and I can't… oh, please…'
'What is your address?' the calm operator asked.
'Four-seventeen Barkley Road. Please hurry,' she screamed.
'We have two cars in your area, ma'am. They're on their way. Just stay on the line with me until they get there. What is your name?'
Vanessa was sobbing and panting for breath and hoped she sounded hysterical. 'Vanessa MacKenna. They've got to get here now. Don't you understand? He's going to kill her.'
'Who, ma'am? Who are you talking about?'
'Kate MacKenna. My brother-in-law Ewan has her.'
Less than a minute to go.
The operator continued to ask questions.
'Where are you now, ma'am? Are you away from the house?'
'Yes. He looked the other way, and I ran. I'm at the gate at the end of the driveway-by my car. Oh, I hear sirens. They're coming.'
'Just stay with me until they get to you, okay?'
'Yes, I will. Oh, please, they have to stop him.' She took the phone from her ear and turned it toward the house.
Five… four… three… two… one.
Time ran out… and nothing happened.
Chapter Forty-one
Dylan's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. How could he have let this happen? Kate… oh, God, Kate…
No sooner had he absorbed the news that she had disappeared than he heard a car screech to a stop in front of the building. Agent Kline had told him he would meet him at Smith and Wesson, but he didn't get out of his car. He pounded on the horn.
The security guard who had left his post leaped out of the way in the nick of time, or Dylan would have plowed over him as he bolted out the door. His brain was on automatic now.
Kline had the window down and was shouting, 'Get in! Let's go, let's go.' He leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open.
Dylan jumped inside. He was pulling the door closed when Kline hit the gas pedal. The car rocketed forward.
'Kate's gone,' Dylan roared.
'I know,' Kline answered. 'I heard it from dispatch. I know where she is,' Kline said, hoping to God he was right. 'A call was patched through from Savannah PD. Vanessa left the hospital, said it was an emergency. She was meeting Ewan at Compton's house.
She's been staying there, and I'm guessing Kate's with her. Process of elimination,' he rushed on.
He ran a red light, turned left, and shot down the street.
'Vanessa told people where she was going? It could be a setup,' Kline said.
'Yeah, that's what I'm thinking,' Dylan said, trying to make sense of it all.
They both knew Kate could already be dead, but neither voiced the fear.
'Kate has to be there with Vanessa,' Dylan said. 'And if she isn't, I don't know where they could have taken her. I never should have left her. I should have stayed.'
'We're close,' Kline said. 'And every available unit is on the way. We'll get to her in time.' He took another corner on two wheels, straightened, and, tires squealing, sped on.
Dylan pulled his gun out of the holster, popped the magazine out, checked it, and then snapped it back in with the heel of his hand. 'If anyone hurts Kate, I'll kill them. And it's not going to be quick or clean.'
Dylan's tirade made Kline nervous. 'Try to remember I'm a federal agent, okay? Don't tell me you're going to kill someone. That's called premeditated murder. You're a detective. You know that.'
Dylan shoved the gun back in the holster. 'Can't you drive faster?'
The radio in the police car Kline had commandeered crackled to life as dispatch relayed the 911 call from Vanessa.
Dylan heard the word 'bomb.' It felt like a crushing blow hit him in the gut.
The dispatcher was routing police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks to the neighborhood. Kline got on the radio and gave the operator his approximate ETA.
They turned onto a four-lane, heavily congested street flying past other vehicles. Most drivers pulled over
