She went back to her truck, grabbed a blanket, covered herself with it and hurtled through the front door, or where the front door had been. The wall of smoke that met her was overwhelming, and she staggered back out, gagging and dropping to her knees. She sucked in some fresh air and this time entered through a gaping hole in what was left of the structure. Inside she crawled forward, calling out every few seconds for him. She started for the stairs, thinking he might be in his bedroom, only the stairs weren't there anymore. Her lungs heaving, she had to go back out to get some untainted air.
Another explosion rocked the structure, and she jumped off the front porch a few seconds before it came tumbling down. The concussive force of a second explosion knocked her through the air, and she landed hard, all the breath squeezed from her. She felt allsorts of heavy things hitting all around her, like mortar fire. She lay there in the dirt, her head cut, her lungs drowning in lethal fumes, her legs and arms bruised and battered. The next thing she knew sirens were everywhere and the sounds of heavy equipment surrounded her. A man in bulky clothing knelt down next to her, gave her oxygen, asked if she was okay.
She couldn't say anything as more trucks and cars lumbered up the drive and teams of volunteer firefighters attacked the inferno. As she lay there, the remaining parts of Sean King's house collapsed and fell in. Only the stone chimney remained standing. With that searing image in her mind Michelle blacked out.
When Michelle awoke, it took her a few minutes to realize she was lying in a hospital bed. A man appeared next to her, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a relieved expression.
Jefferson Parks said, 'Damn, we almost lost you. The firemen said a thousand-pound steel beam that got blown off the house was lying six inches from your head.'
She tried to sit up, but he put a hand on her shoulder and held her down.
'Will you just take it easy? You got the shit kicked out of you. You can't just get up and waltz away after something like that.'
She looked around frantically. 'Sean, where's Sean?' Parks didn't answer right away, and Michelle felt tears rushing to her eyes. 'Please, Jefferson, please don't tell me…' Her voice broke.
'I can't tell you anything because I don't know. Nobody does. They haven't found any bodies, Michelle. No indication Sean was even there. But they haven't finished searching. It's, well, it was a bad fire and there were gas explosions. I guess what I'm trying to say is there might not be much to find.'
'I called his house last night, there was no answer. So maybe he wasn't home.'
'Or maybe it had already blown.'
'No, I heard the explosion when I was driving up to his house.'
Parks pulled the chair up next to the bed and sat down. 'Okay, tell me exactly what happened.'
She did, with as much detail as she could remember. And then she recalled what else had happened, an event that had gotten pushed to the back of her thoughts by what had occurred at King's house.
'Someone tried to kill me at the inn last night, right before I went to Sean's. They fired through my window and into my bed. Luckily I'd fallen asleep on the couch.'
Parks's face turned red. 'Why the hell didn't you call me last night? No, instead you go running into a building that's exploding. Do you have a death wish?'
She sat back and pulled at the corners of her sheet. Her head was hurting, and she noticed for the first time that there were bandages on her arms.
'Did I get burned?' she asked wearily.
'No, just cuts and bruises, nothing that won't heal. I don't know about your head. You'll probably just keep doing stupid things until your luck runs out and you lose that.'
'I just wanted to make sure Sean was okay. I thought if they went after me, they'd go after him too. And I was right. That explosion was no accident, was it?'
'No. They found the device that was used. Said it was pretty sophisticated stuff. It was set right next to the gas piping in the basement. Blew the place sky-high.'
'But why? Especially if Sean wasn't even there?'
'I wish I could answer that, but I can't.'
'You have people looking for him?'
'Everybody and everywhere we can think of. The FBI's in the loop, the Marshals Service, Secret Service, Virginia State Police, locals; nothing's turned up yet, though.'
'Anything else? Any leads on Joan? Isn't there anything?'
'No,' Parks said in a discouraged tone. 'Nothing.'
'Well, I'm going to get out of here and get to work.' She started to rise again.
'What you're going to do is lie there and get some rest.'
'You're asking the impossible!' she exclaimed angrily.
'I'm asking the reasonable. You fly out of here all banged up and disoriented and maybe black out in your truck and kill yourself and someone else, well, I don't see how that can be a positive thing. And remember, this is your second stint in the hospital within a few days. The third time might be the morgue.'
Michelle looked ready to erupt again, but then she just lay back. 'Okay, you win for now. But the minute something happens you call me. If you don't, I'll track you down and it won't be pretty.'
Parks held up his hands in mock protest. 'Okay, okay, I'm not looking to make any more enemies, I got enough already.' He went to the door, then turned back. 'I'm not going to give you any false hopes. The chances we're going to see Sean King again are pretty remote. But while there's still a chance, I won't sleep.'
She managed a smile. 'Okay. Thank you.'
Five minutes after he left, she hurriedly threw on her clothes, dodged the nurses on duty and escaped the hospital by a rear exit.
67
King awoke to total darkness. It was also chilly wherever he was, although he had a growing suspicion of where that might be. He took a deep breath and tried to sit up. It was as he'd thought. He couldn't. He was restrained. Leather bindings, by the feel of it. He turned his head, letting his eyes adjust to the blackness, but there was no ambient light here; he could make out nothing. He could be floating in the middle of the ocean for all he knew. He stiffened as he heard murmuring from somewhere; so low were the noises he couldn't tell if they were human. Then he heard footsteps coming toward him. And a few seconds later he felt the presence of someone next to him. Then this person touched him on the shoulder, gently, not threatening at all. And then the touch became a clench. As more pressure was exerted and then something pricked his skin, King bit his lip, determined not to cry out at the pain.
Finally he managed to say in a very calm tone, 'Look, you're not going to crush me to death with your hands, so just back the hell off!'
The pressure immediately ceased and the footsteps moved away. King felt the sweat on his brow. Then he became chilled and felt sick to his stomach. They must have shot him up with something, he decided. He turned his head to the side and vomited.
At least being able to retch made him feel alive. 'Sorry about the rug,' he muttered. He closed his eyes and slowly dozed off.
Michelle's first stop was King's ruined home. As she walked through the rubble, firefighters, police deputies and others were inspecting the damage and putting out small blazes. She spoke with some of them, and they confirmed no human remains had been found. As her gaze ran over the rubble of what had been Sean King's 'perfect' home, Michelle grew increasingly despondent. There was nothing she could learn from this. She went down to the dock and sat on King's sailboat for a while, gazing out at the calm lake, trying to draw some strength and inspiration from being at least close to things the man so dearly loved.
Two items were bothering her greatly: the warrant for Bob Scott, and verifying the whereabouts of Doug Denby. She decided to do something about both. She drove back to the inn, calling her father along the way. As a
