She froze. King! She grabbed her phone and dialed his number. It rang and rang but there was no answer. Should she call the police? Parks? It could be that King was just sleeping hard. No, her gut told her otherwise. She ran for her truck.
The alarm woke King. Groggy for a moment, he quickly became alert and sat straight up. There was smoke everywhere. He jumped up, then fell to the floor trying to breathe. He made it to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth and draped it over his face. He crawled back out, braced his back against the wall and, using his legs, levered the bureau away from the door. He touched the door to make sure it wasn't hot and then cautiously opened it.
The outside hallway was full of smoke, and the smoke alarm continued to shriek. Unfortunately it wasn't connected to a central monitoring station, and the single volunteer fire department station that serviced the area was many miles away. And his house was so remotely situated no one may have noticed it was on fire. He crawled back inside his bedroom with the idea of getting to the phone, but the room was so smoky he lost his bearings and was afraid to venture farther in. He slithered back out into the hallway and along the catwalk. He could see sparks and red flames down below, and he prayed the stairs were passable. Otherwise, he'd have to jump, possibly into an inferno, and that wasn't a very appealing idea.
He heard sounds coming from down below. He was coughing from smoke inhalation and desperately wanted to get out of thehouse, but he was still aware this could be a trap. He clenched the gun and shouted out, 'Who's down there? I'm armed and I'll shoot.'
There was no answer, which fueled his suspicions even more until he looked out the big front window as he lay on the catwalk. He saw the flashing red lights in his front yard, and he could hear the sirens of other fire trucks coming. Okay, help was here, after all. He reached the stairs and looked down. Through the smoke he could make out firefighters in bulky overcoats and helmets, with tanks strapped to their backs and masks covering their faces.
'I'm up here,' he shouted. 'Up here!'
'Can you make your way down?' called out one fireman.
'I don't think so, it's a wall of smoke up here.'
'Okay, just stay there. We'll come for you. Just stay there and stay down! We're bringing the hoses in now. This whole place is on fire.'
He heard the whoosh of spray from fire extinguishers as the men charged up the stairs. King was sick to his stomach and nearly blind from the smoke in his eyes. He felt himself being picked up and hauled swiftly down the stairs. In another minute he was outside and sensed people hovering over him.
'Are you okay?' one of them said.
'Get him some damn oxygen,' said another. 'He's breathed in a ton of carbon monoxide.'
King felt the oxygen mask being placed over his face, and then he had the sensation of being lifted into the ambulance. For a moment he thought he could hear Michelle calling out to him. And then everything went black.
The sirens, flashing lights, radio staccato and other 'sound effects' immediately stopped as the fireman hit the master switch on the control box with one hand and took the gun from King with the other. Everything became quiet once more. The fireman turned away and went back to the house, where the smoke was already starting to peter out. It had been a very carefully controlled 'fire,' with all the elements of the inferno artificially created. Hewent inside the basement, set the ignition switch on the small device next to the gas lines and left the house. He climbed into the back of the van, and it immediately drove away. The van reached the main road and accelerated, heading south. Two minutes later the small explosive device went off in King's basement, setting off the gas lines, and the resulting explosion ripped Sean King's beautiful home apart for real.
The fireman pulled off his helmet and mask and wiped his face.
Buick Man looked down at the unconscious King. The 'oxygen' he'd been given included a sedative.
'It's good finally to see you, Agent King. I've waited a long time for this.'
The van sped on into the darkness.
66
Michelle had just turned off onto King's long drive when the explosion rocked the night. She floored the truck and kicked gravel and dirt all the way up. She slid the truck to a stop as boards, glass and other parts of the destroyed house blocked her way. She jumped out, dialing 911 on her phone as she did so and screaming to the dispatcher what had happened, telling the woman to send everything she could.
Michelle raced through the wreckage, dodging flames and smoke and screaming out his name. 'Sean!
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
