“Bomb,” I yelled. I spun. I ran. “Get out now!”
Kept the countdown going in my head…
… 12… 11…
I sped toward the steps.
… 10…
Bolted up the stairs, three at a time.
… 9… 8…
“Out! Ralph! Lien-hua! Bomb! There’s a bomb!”
I burst through the hallway door, Lien-hua right in front of me.
… 7…
Down the hall, toward the front door.
… 6…
Ralph landed at the bottom of the staircase.
… 5…
Outside. Onto the porch.
… 4…
Jumping. Landing on the grass.
… 3…
Scrambling forward. Lunging to the ground.
… 2…
Throwing my body over Lien-hua’s.
… 1.
Boom.
11:42 a.m., Eastern Standard Time
In Charlotte, North Carolina, Governor Sebastian Taylor caught sight of his reflection in a mirror and tilted his head to see which side of his face was more photogenic.
In Denver, Colorado, Tessa Ellis shook her head and dragged her suitcase up to the next spot in line at the US Airways ticket counter. In West Asheville, North Carolina, Alice McMichaelson stole a glance at the business textbook on her lap during a time-out in the last few minutes of her son’s soccer game.
At the concierge’s desk in the lobby of the Stratford Hotel, Theodore punched in the appropriate codes to change the name of the caterers for Monday’s luncheon.
In front of his computer, the Illusionist leaned forward with a satisfied grin and watched the house explode.
I felt the heat of the explosion wash over me, singeing my hair. Scorching my neck. And then, a shower of debris peppered my back, my legs. A storm of burning slats of wood followed immediately, raining down around us and on top of us, bringing with it a sudden, searing pain in my shoulder.
But I didn’t move. I kept my body draped over Lien-hua, and I didn’t even turn to see what sort of object had knifed its way deeply into my back, wedging itself against my shoulder blade. Behind me I heard a roar as the house’s bone-dry wood exploded into a fireball.
Then Ralph was beside me, urging us forward, yelling for us to get away from the heat and the flames. I helped Lien-hua to her feet, and we hobbled forward toward the trees, then turned to look at the house.
It was completely destroyed.
Any evidence in it would have been destroyed as well.
The cell phone in Ralph’s pocket rang.
He fished it out and answered it. Cursed. “They found her,” he said grimly. “They found Jolene.”
“Where?” I asked.
“The trunk of Margaret’s car.”