The streets were being cleared. Officers in uniform and plain clothes swarmed the building, disappearing inside and around the sides. “That was Derek,” she said.
“And Brady,” he added, pointing.
“Go get him, guys,” she whispered.
Ryan rubbed a hand across his eyes and sent up a silent prayer. If all went well, no shots would be fired and the man would realize there was no chance of escape.
He and Izzy sat in silence, the tension around them thick. So thick, he was surprised he couldn’t see it. “They’re going to get him,” he said.
“Of course they are.”
A minute passed, then Ryan said, “I want to be there. I want to look in his eyes and—”
“Stop,” she said.
“What?”
“You’re doing exactly what I was just doing. Like you said, let them do their jobs.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re just torturing yourself.”
“And you’re not? You might not be saying anything, but I can read your mind from here.”
She shrugged and leaned forward. “What’s taking so long?”
And then the front of the top-floor penthouse exploded into a ball of fire and smoke.
26
Izzy dove to the floor and Ryan landed on top of her. Her breath whooshed from her lungs as glass and debris rained down around them. As her senses tuned her back in to her surroundings, she registered screams. Screams that came from every direction. She bit down on her own cries and tried to squirm out from under Ryan’s weight.
He rolled off of her and Izzy pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead. When she looked at her fingers, blood covered them.
“You’re hurt,” Ryan said.
She looked up to see a gash on his cheek. “You are too.” She gasped. “Brady and Derek, they’re across the street.”
Sirens blared and Ryan pulled his badge from his belt. “First, we need to see if anyone else is hurt in here.”
Dizzy and slightly disoriented, Izzy shook her head. She desperately wanted to find out about her brothers, but … “I can help.”
Together they flashed their badges and asked the others in the restaurant if they were hurt. No one was. Ryan and Izzy had taken the brunt of it.
Ryan pointed. “The explosion sent that metal rod through the window.”
“Thank God it didn’t hit anything but the glass.” And embedded itself into the wall behind them like an arrow. If it had struck one of them, it would have meant instant death. She shuddered and looked at the building across the street. Fear pulsed through her. “Ryan, there’s no way everyone survived. Brady … Derek …”
“I know.”
Her heart tight, tears on the surface, she spun on her heel and raced out of the coffee shop, holding her badge in plain sight.
“Izzy! Stop!”
She ignored Ryan’s cry.
Ambulances pulled to a screeching halt right behind the fire trucks.
Izzy darted through the mass confusion and into the lobby of the apartment building. Residents flowed from the building like ants from a hill. She tried to go against the flow, but was pushed and shoved, bouncing from one person to the next.
A hand landed on her forearm and jerked her to a halt. She cried out and whirled to find Ryan shouting at her. “You can’t do this.” He pulled her back toward the exit.
She jerked on her arm, but his hold was too tight. “Let me go!”
“Not a chance.”
“My brothers are in there!”
“And they’re my friends, but you’re not going to get yourself killed running into a burning building. Think!”
The side door off the lobby flew open and three officers, faces in their elbows, bolted from the stairwell. Ryan let go of Izzy and they went to the two men and one woman. “Is anyone else coming down?”
“Yes,” the first officer croaked. Sweat and blood mingled on his forehead and dripped from his chin. “The blast was pretty contained to the top floors, but it was bad.”
He coughed and Izzy caught Ryan’s eye. She had to put her own fears aside and get to work doing what she did best. Helping others. “Let’s get them to an ambulance.”
Firefighters swarmed the building, hoses trailing behind them. “Up the stairs to the nearest standpipe!” Izzy heard the orders and knew they’d carry the hoses and hook them up in the area closest to the fire, typically in the stairwell of the floor below the fire. They had their tricks that would allow them to use gravity to give them the most pressure possible for the water flow.
These thoughts and more flashed through her mind in less than a second before she dismissed them and focused her concentration on the men and women in the building and getting them out. Alive. And catching the people who’d initiated the destruction.
Once outside, she and Ryan passed the officers off to the paramedics and questioned them while they received their care.
Unfortunately, they weren’t much help.
“Did you see Derek or Brady St. John?” she asked.
The woman, Special Agent Blaire Harrison, Izzy had learned, nodded. “They were there, but then the explosion happened and I don’t remember seeing them after that.”
“Izzy!”
She turned at the shout and found Chloe and Hank running toward her. Her sister skidded to a halt. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”
Her forehead. She’d forgotten about it. Although she noticed the throbbing in the area now that Chloe brought it to her attention. “I’m fine. Brady and Derek are inside, though. They haven’t come out yet.”
Chloe’s face paled. She turned toward the building. Ryan had already started questioning the bystanders.
Izzy watched the water saturate the building and waited, praying, desperate to see her brothers and the others come out of the building.
Two men came out carrying a third between him. Firefighters rushed over to help and Izzy strained to see who it was.
Still not one of her brothers.
And then a firefighter stumbled from the building, a body over his shoulder. “Brady!” She ran toward them with Chloe on her heels. He was carried directly to the waiting gurney that would be rolled into the back of the ambulance. One of the paramedics slapped an oxygen mask on him. Izzy gripped Brady’s shoulder. “Where’s Derek?”
But her brother wasn’t talking. Eyes closed, he lay unconscious, his dark lashes stark against his white cheeks. She looked up to the hovering paramedic. “Is he going to be okay?”
“That’s what I’m getting ready to find out.” The young man slipped the ends of his stethoscope into his ears and leaned over Brady.
Izzy backed away, fingers covering her mouth to keep her fear from erupting into sobs. Chloe’s fingers curled around her upper arm, and from the viselike grip, she knew her sister was holding on to her own emotions just as tightly.
“Let’s go!” the paramedic shouted and shut the doors of the ambulance.
There was nothing she could do for Brady, he was in good hands now. But what about Derek? Izzy spun away from Chloe and raced back toward the building to find Ryan talking with one of the ATF agents who’d just arrived on the scene.
She grabbed his bicep and pulled his attention to her. “Excuse me, but Derek’s still in there.”
“I know, Iz. So are six others. Everyone else is accounted for. It looks like the blast was pretty much contained to the two upper floors. Derek and a few others were closer to the blast. Firefighters are having trouble getting to them.”
First Kevin, now … Izzy shook her head, heart in her throat. “No, not Derek too.”
She couldn’t collapse. Derek would expect her to be strong, not to give in to weak knees and trembling courage. There was nothing she could do except wait.
“Iz—”
She looked around.
She could do something. She could ask questions.
Izzy’s gaze touched on th
ose watching the action. Most looked pale and scared. Others filmed everything with their phones. She approached a woman who was simply staring at the burning building, tears streaking her cheeks. “Did you see anything that might help catch who did this?”
The woman turned, eyes wide. “This was on purpose?”
“Probably. Did you see anything?”
She palmed the tears from her cheeks. “No. I was a couple of blocks back when the explosion happened. I have a friend who lives in there. I haven’t seen her or her daughter come out yet.”
“What floor do they live on?”
“The seventh.”
One floor down from the eighth-floor penthouse. Izzy placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Don’t give up hope yet.”
Tears filled her shadowed eyes, but she nodded. “Thanks.”
Izzy questioned several others and got pretty much the same response. They’d heard the blast and raced to see what had happened.
As she walked, she prayed. Please let Derek be okay. Twenty feet past the building, she stopped. Two men stood to the side near a dark SUV talking to a very large man who had his back to her. Lamar Young? His build was certainly a match. She wanted to see his face. Izzy slid her phone from her pocket and snapped several pictures of them. Until one looked straight at her.
She pretended not to notice and moved the phone as though she were videoing. Since she wasn’t in uniform, he would most likely think she was simply a bystander doing the same as 90 percent of the rest of the crowd. But her mind was clicking. Who were they? They didn’t blend in, didn’t look like the rest of the shocked rubberneckers. Were they part of Bianchi’s crew? Had they done this? And what were they doing with Lamar Young? If that was him. One of them said something to the hulking man and he turned. She snapped another picture. He scowled and Izzy’s heart gave a leap. When his eyes met hers, he pressed a hand to his side.
Where her bullet had struck him?
“Izzy?”
She didn’t turn toward Ryan, who’d just approached.
“That’s him. Come on!”
She took off toward Young in a dead run.
And he bolted.
Izzy tried to shove through the crowd without hurting anyone, but he was getting away. Finally, she gave up trying to be gentle. He was getting away. Again.
“Hey! Watch it!”
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring the indignant protests of those her elbows unintentionally gouged, she kept after the tall man.
Who turned a corner and disappeared.
Staying on his heels, she drew her weapon, paused wide at the corner, and worked around for a better angle without going around it. Ryan slipped up beside and slightly behind her. Izzy did a quick out-and-back peek.
Nothing in front of her but an empty alley. She buttonhooked around, weapon pointed forward in a two-handed grip, Ryan at her heels.
Young had probably scaled the low fence at the end of the alley. She hurried to it, but knew continuing the search was futile.
“He’s gone.”
Ryan shook the fence. “Want to go over?”
“Why? He’s slipped away once again. I want to get back and see if they’ve pulled Derek out yet.”
He nodded. “Fine. I’ll call it in and we’ll see if a unit can spot him in the area.”
While he did that, Izzy hurried back to the building, scanning, watching. Her mother might show up, and Izzy wanted to be the one to tell her about Derek and Brady. Or, if she’d already heard, she might just head straight to the hospital to check on Brady.
By the time she and Ryan made it back to the secured area, FBI and ATF agents were in the fray. Izzy spotted Linc and went over to him. “You heard?” she asked him.
“Yes.”
“You have agents in there.”
“Yes.”
“Derek?”
His face was pale beneath the leftover summer tan. “Still in there. Brady woke up on the ride to the hospital and is going to be fine. He’s got some burns and smoke inhalation, but he’s going to be fine.” It seemed to help him to repeat that fact.
Izzy pulled her phone back out. “Look at these guys. Do you recognize them?”
Linc studied the pictures she’d taken of the two men by the SUV. “No, why?”
“They were back there.” She pointed. “Just standing there, watching the whole thing, and they were talking to the guy that tried to burn me alive—Lamar Young.”
Linc’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened.
“They looked out of place to me,” she said. “And the fact that they were talking to Young raises the hair on my neck.”
“Me too.” He got on his phone and set it up with two other agents to detain the men for questioning—if they hadn’t left yet. When he hung up, he looked at Izzy. “Nice work.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
And then the lower doors opened once more and two firemen carrying a third man exited. “Derek,” she whispered.
She followed Linc to the waiting ambulance. The two firefighters lowered her twin to the gurney just like Brady only a short time earlier. Or had it been hours? She had no concept of time at the moment.
Derek didn’t stir.
“There’s blood everywhere,” she whispered. “Is he still alive?”
Linc either didn’t hear her or just ignored her. A hand settled on her shoulder and she turned to see Ryan’s pale face and tight jaw. “What is it?”
“Five dead. Numerous injured.”
Linc looked up. “The dead?”
“Three law enforcement. Two residents on the seventh floor. A mother and her eight-year-old child. Husband is at work. He’s already been called.”
Izzy’s heart shattered for the woman’s friend, who still stood staring at the building. A child. It was always the children that hit her hardest. She swallowed and focused back on Derek.
Children and family.
The paramedics already had Derek hooked up to an IV and were working on stopping the bleeding from a wound in his side. “How bad is he?” she asked.
The paramedic looked up. “Bad.” He looked at his partner. “Let’s go.”
Ryan rubbed a hand across his forehead and down his cheek, wincing when the action pulled the cut open again. He wiped the blood on his pants and watched the ambulance carrying Derek St. John scream away from the scene.
Izzy stood, arms wrapped around her middle. Linc was walking away, his phone pressed to his ear. Most likely, he was talking to the mayor or the chief of police—or his supervisor at the FBI. Since they had an open case on Bianchi, arson would no doubt be added to the underlying charges for a RICO indictment.
All of that flitted through his mind even as Ryan’s heart broke at the sight of Izzy’s sorrow. He slid an arm around her shoulders. “They’re alive. Focus on that.”
“Kevin was, too, when they took him away,” she whispered.
Wincing, he pulled her tighter and she let him, resting her head against his chest. “We’ll just pray this has a different ending than Kevin’s.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan, I shouldn’t have brought up Kevin. I know this has to be hurting you too.”
His heart squeezed at her apology. “Don’t be sorry. I understand.”
She looked up and he brushed stray strands of hair from her forehead. Her cut had started to scab over as well, but soot and dirt covered her face. He figured they both looked like they’d just walked out of a war zone.
He placed a light passionless kiss on her lips, surprising them both, but she took it as he meant it. An offer of comfort, nothing else. Not this time. Right now, he wasn’t thinking about his attraction to her, he was just thinking he wanted to take away her pain.
He drew her in for a hug and she lay against him. He soaked in the moment before she squeezed his hand and pulled away.
“Want me to take you to the hospital?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away, then gave a slow shake of her head.
“No. Mom and Dad and the rest of the family will go, but they’re not going to be doing anything except waiting. I don’t want to wait. I want to catch the people who did this. I don’t want to miss one bit of information that comes out of that building.”
As though her words were prophetic, the doors opened and two firefighters once again exited with a small sheet-covered body between them. He and Izzy stayed put, watching as each person was removed, his heart breaking, his fury and rage at the people responsible growing.
And then he realized something. “Wait a minute.”
“What?”
“There was an extra body.”
Izzy swiped a hand across her eyes and squinted up at him. “What do you mean?”
“There were five dead total. They brought out six bodies.”
27
Several hours later, the blaze was contained. It would take some time for it to cool off, but firefighters would continue to monitor it and then the investigation would crank up to full volume. Sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Starbucks, Izzy pressed fingers to her weary and dry eyes and then pulled her phone from her pocket to dial Maria Dover.
“What?” the ME snapped.
“The bodies from the explosion earlier today. Are they there yet?”
“Who is this?”
“Izzy St. John.”
“Ah. Hold on a sec.” Izzy heard clicking in the background, then Maria came back on the line. “Yes, they’re here. Why do you need to know?”
“I need names.”
“Looks like all are identified. Max Jones, Lisa Greer and her eight-year-old daughter Kristy, Stephen Hollister, Louis Harper, and—”
“Wait, hold up. Did you say Louis Harper?”
“Yes. He was in the system and easy to identify. Prints came back in like thirty seconds.”
“I know him.” Izzy’s legs went weak. “That’s Blackjack.” What had he been doing at the home of Tony Bianchi? He was the one who’d told Kevin about the meeting at the warehouse. “What was he doing there?”
“I have no idea. Now, if that’s all you need, I need to get back to work.”
“Sure.” Izzy hadn’t been asking Maria the question anyway, she’d just been speaking her thoughts out loud. “Thanks, Maria.”
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