Luke frowned. “What about Mansfield ’s house?”
“Nancy Dykstra’s waiting with her team at Mansfield ’s. I called her as soon as I picked myself off the ground, told her not to go in. They’re waiting for the bomb squad to make sure our little pyro didn’t rig both houses to blow.”
“Good thinking. Have you seen Granville’s wife?”
“If she was in the house, she wouldn’t come out when we instructed her to. Zach and the rest of the team got here at 5:15 and had all the exits covered.”
“Okay. So whoever planted the bomb did so between 1:38 and 5:15.”
Pete frowned. “Why 1:38?”
“That’s when Granville placed a call to the person we think was his partner. The news that Granville was dead hadn’t hit the media by 5:15. Only Granville’s partner would have known he didn’t leave the bunker with the rest of them.”
“And the partner would be afraid Granville would talk if he got caught or that he’d left incriminating evidence in the house. So he blew it up. What now?”
“Now you get that hard head of yours stitched up. Let me take it from here. We’re meeting at Chase’s at ten. If you can, join us. If not, try to call in.” With a reassuring squeeze to Pete’s shoulder, Luke started walking toward Corchran and the fire chief.
The two men met him halfway. “I came as soon as I heard the first calls for fire and rescue over the radio,” Corchran said.
“Thanks,” Luke said to Corchran. “I appreciate it.” He turned to the fire chief. “I’m Agent Papadopoulos, GBI.”
“Chief Trumbell. We’re fighting this from the outside. Given the explosions, I haven’t sent my men inside. I didn’t want them stumbling across any other wires.”
“So that’s how this bomb was triggered?” Luke asked. “Wires?”
“Your arson guys will need to confirm it, but I saw wire tied to the front door’s inside doorknob, about six or seven inches left hanging. Looks like a real simple setup. Open the door, wire yanks, bomb detonates. This fire was well in progress by the time we arrived. I’d bet your investigator finds the house doused with some kind of accelerant.”
“Got it. Look, Granville has a wife. We don’t think she was in the house.”
“That’s what Haywood said.” Trumbell looked over his shoulder at the blaze. “If she’s in there… I can’t risk sending anybody in after her.”
As if to punctuate his words, there was a giant crash and everyone instinctively ducked except Trumbell, who ran toward the house, radio in hand, yelling orders for his men to back away.
“I’d say one of the ceilings collapsed,” Corchran said.
And any links to Granville’s partner with it. “Goddammit,” Luke said quietly.
Corchran pointed down the street. “The vultures caught the scent.”
Two TV news vans were pulling up. “The cherry on top,” Luke muttered. “Hey, thanks for coming out tonight. I know Dutton is not your responsibility.”
Corchran looked uncomfortable. “No it’s not, but their police force is in… disarray.”
“Their sheriff and lead deputy are dead, so I’d say that’s an understatement.”
“If you need support, call, but I don’t want to be stepping on any jurisdictional toes.”
“Thanks. I expect the governor is appointing a new sheriff as we speak, so hopefully we’ll get some order restored in Dutton. Now I need to set the crime scene boundary.”
Corchran sent a scathing look toward the TV vans. “Make sure it’s real far back.”
“You can bet on that.”
Luke pushed the reporters back, citing concern for their personal safety as well as the safety of the emergency personnel. He endured the occasional muffled personal epithet, proud he hadn’t told one reporter to fuck himself. He’d posted a state trooper patrol to maintain the crime scene line when his cell buzzed in his pocket.
He frowned at the 917 area code on his caller ID, then remembered it was Susannah’s Manhattan cell number. Don’t let the girl be dead. He looked at Granville’s ruined house. She may be all we have left. “Susannah, what can I do for you?”
“The girl is awake. She can’t speak, but she’s awake.”
Thank you. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Ridgefield House, Friday, February 2, 8:45 p.m.
“Time to party, Ashley,” Rocky said, unlocking her door. “Mr. Haynes is-”
Rocky stopped in Ashley’s doorway, shock momentarily robbing her of thought. Then the rage came, blistering and hot, and she rushed into the room to where Ashley lay on the floor, curled in a fetal ball.
“What the fuck have you done?” Rocky snarled, grabbing Ashley by the hair she had left. “Goddammit, what have you done?”
Ashley’s lip was bloody where she’d bitten it clean through. Her scalp was red, with at least eight bald patches the size of silver dollars visible along the top of her head. The bitch had pulled her own hair out by the roots.
Ashley’s eyes were wet with tears, but full of defiance. “He wanted a blonde. Does he want me now?”
Rocky slapped her hard, knocking her to the floor.
“What the hell are you…?” Bobby stopped. “Holy shit.”
Rocky stared down at the bald spots, breathing hard. “She pulled her own hair out. Haynes won’t want her now.”
“Then he’ll just have to take one of the others.”
Bobby was not pleased. Which meant Rocky would pay the price. “You want me to give her to one of the guards?”
Bobby studied the girl, eyes narrowed. “Not yet. I don’t want her bruised, just compliant. Put her in the hole. No food, no water. A few days down there will knock some of the defiance out of her. When you bring her out, shave her head. She can wear a wig. Hell, all the rock stars are doing it, why not our girls? And, Rocky, find me some blondes fast. I promised Haynes one tonight, so I’ll have to give him a discount on whoever he does choose. I want to be able to deliver what he wants next time. A quarter of our new business comes through him.”
Rocky thought of the girls she’d been chatting online. “I have two, maybe three I can pull in now,” she said.
“And they’re blond?”
She nodded. “I’ve checked them out myself. But who’s going to pick them up? That was Mansfield ’s job.”
“You get them ready. I’ll arrange for pick-up. Get this one out of my sight before I change my mind and beat the shit out of her myself. And don’t be late for your meeting. I’ve given you a chance to earn your way back. Don’t fuck it up.”
Rocky bit the inside of her cheek. She’d known better than to argue over the “extra duty” Bobby had assigned. Didn’t mean she had to like it, though. She checked her watch. She had to get this girl in the hole or she’d miss the shift change at the hospital.
Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 9:15 p.m.
“Susannah.”
Susannah lifted her eyes to Luke’s reflection in the glass that separated her from Jane Doe’s ICU bed. He looked tired. “They let me see her for a few minutes.”
“Was she lucid?”
“I think so. She recognized me, squeezed my fingers. Her eyes are closed now, but she may be awake.”
“She’s still got a breathing tube.”
“Like I said on the phone, she can’t speak. The doctor said she has shock lung.”
Luke winced. “Oh, shit.”
“You know what that is?”
“Yeah. My brother Leo was a Marine and he had it from a battle injury. More than three broken ribs on one side of the body and the lung collapses.” His dark brows furrowed. “Did I do that when I carried her?”
His concern touched her heart. “I don’t think so. She had bruising all over her rib cage. A couple that the doctor said looked like the toe of a boot. He said she might be intubated for another few days.”