CHAPTER NINETEEN

Paige was lying on top of Loriann. With more effort than she should have needed, she forced herself off of the woman and onto her elbows on the cold, hard ground.

Paige allowed herself a few seconds of relief that she and Loriann had made it out alive but seconds were all she could take. The thumb drive was still in her fist, clutched so hard Paige was sure the imprint of it would be on her palm when she opened it. She needed to alert Sam of the plot.

Loriann’s eyelids fluttered, closed, then opened again. Loriann’s bleeding had slowed but she was still bleeding and she was clutching her ribs. She tried to sit up but fell back.

“Don’t try to move.” Paige struggled to move herself. “I’ll call for help.”

“Jason…” Loriann cried out.

“He won’t hurt you again. You’re safe, Loriann.”

Paige got to her knees. Her cell phone was on her belt. As she unclipped it, she heard the unmistakable whoop whoop of helicopter blades slicing the air.

Shielding her eyes from the wind kicked up by the helicopter, Paige saw three helicopters land. Dom, Mike, other agents in tactical gear, and EMTs hit the ground running.

Paige called out to the medics. “Hurry!”

A medic arrived and Paige gave Loriann over to his care.

Dom and Mike hovered over Paige.

Dom said, “You need to be looked at too.”

“I will be, but first I need to talk to Sam.”

“He’s en route,” Mike said.

As Loriann was being loaded for air transport to the nearest hospital, another helicopter arrived. Sam leaped from the helicopter as it touched down behind the one that had brought Dom and Mike. Sam ran to her and then she was in his arms.

“I saw the house blow,” Sam said.

No further words were needed for Paige to know what had gone through his mind in that instant. Sam was holding her so tightly she was sure her bones were rubbing together. It had been a near thing. She was holding him as fiercely.

She choked back a sob. She couldn’t break down, not yet. She drew back from Sam. “Orr was in the house. He’s dead.” Paige clutched Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, he has people in place ready to blow targets across the nation at nine this morning. It’s all here.” She pressed the thumb drive into Sam’s hand.

Sam’s fist closed around it. He took out his phone.

* * *

Sam had called FBI Deputy Director Wallace. Wallace sent Sam to the Columbia office. Paige watched the helicopter taking Sam there shrink to a speck in the sky.

Sam had left Mike at the farmhouse with the tactical squads to oversee the crime scene. A medic examined Paige and recommended a hospital examination to eliminate a possible concussion. If she was concussed, there wasn’t much to be done for it. Paige didn’t need a medical professional present to watch her vomit, if it came to that. She declined going to the local hospital. She would see a doctor in Kirk. She wanted to be back in Kirk.

She and Dom got into Paige’s van. Their part was over. They’d done all they could here. Paige prayed it would be enough and they weren’t too late.

Back in their squad room, Paige sat at her desk, hands clasped in a grip that stretched the skin taut across her knuckles. Mrs. Hendershot was by one wall, her arms around herself. Harry was pacing. Dom stood behind his chair, running his hand impatiently along the back of it. No one spoke.

Sunlight streamed into the room. The day was calm without wind. Paige couldn’t see any squirrels or hear any birds. It was as if even nature was holding its collective breath.

An operation of this magnitude took time and the Bureau and law enforcement had had little of it. If they hadn’t stopped this . . . if they hadn’t been in time . . . Paige’s breath caught at the unthinkable outcome.

Her eyes went to the clock on the wall opposite her desk. Nine a.m. came . . . and went. Paige’s heart thumped, each beat growing faster and louder in her ears as she watched the minutes tick by.

Harry’s phone rang. He stopped pacing and put it to his ear. “Sam?” Harry listened for a moment then exhaled deeply. “With pleasure.” Harry turned to Paige and the others. “They caught it in time. Orr’s people are in custody.”

Harry bent over and braced his arms on his knees. Dom rubbed hands that now shook down his face. Mrs. Hendershot sagged against a wall.

Overcome herself, Paige closed her eyes.

* * *

Sam arranged for Riley’s release while returning from Columbia. While he waited for Riley to be brought to him, Sam went to see Harmon. With a Kirk PD detective behind the plot, Sam had questions for the police chief.

Sam entered Harmon’s office. “How far back did you trace the drug and money disappearances you told me about?”

Harmon propped his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together. “Eight years. Orr used the take to fund his plot.”

All that time. Martin Hendershot murdered. Corbett. Townsend. Countless lives jeopardized. Orr’s former wife . . . Paige. Every time Sam thought about how close it had been with Paige, his heart felt as if it would stop. He couldn’t let himself think about that without becoming enraged. And Harmon had been oblivious to it all for eight years.

Sam had nothing to suggest corruption on Harmon’s part, but he would have liked nothing better than to have a reason for the Bureau to go in to the Kirk PD and clean house. Yeah, Sam was feeling raw and he was looking to blame Harmon. But being unaware wasn’t a crime.

“What about now?” Sam said. “Where do things stand?”

“There’s nothing more. I’d say it ended with Orr but I’ll keep my eye out until I’m sure.”

And that was going to have to do. Without another word, Sam left.

* * *

A short while later, Sam left Riley in the squad room with Harry, Dom, Mike, who’d returned from Arcanville, and Paige and escorted Marian into his office.

When they were both seated, Sam told Marian what Paige had learned from Orr about Martin Hendershot.

“It’s over then,” Marian said. “Martin can finally be at rest.”

Sam also felt the weight he’d carried over Hendershot’s unresolved murder lift. He reached out to Marian’s hands, clasped in her lap, and took them gently in one of his. “Yes.”

Her hands, like the rest of her, were small. Her skin was lined and dotted with age spots. She was not affectionate. Sam couldn’t think of one time in eight years that he’d seen her embrace or even touch anyone for a personal reason, but she touched his hand now.

“Thank you . . . Sam.” She squeezed his fingers.

Sam squeezed back gently and nodded. “What do you say we call it a day?”

She released his hand abruptly and straightened her spine. She drew back as if affronted by Sam’s suggestion. “It is certainly your decision. I would never presume to dictate to you, but since you are asking me, I would say ‘no’. Most assuredly, no. Special Agent in Charge McKade, we have work to do.”

As she got to her feet and marched from his office, Sam smiled.