Kieran was still talking with Tanya and Detective Wolff when word came through that a building in Brooklyn had exploded. They quickly learned that, luckily, no one had been inside. It had gone up before any police officers or agents had entered.
Just hearing what had happened, though, caused ice-cold rivulets of fear—stabbed through with streaks of hot relief—to race through Kieran’s body.
She stood.
Her legs wobbled and she sat back down.
She thought about what had happened, and she agreed that she should stay away when Egan made preparations to head over to Brooklyn.
She knew that Wolff couldn’t go—he couldn’t be seen in the area, lest he chance his undercover position.
She was sure that Craig wouldn’t want her at the scene, either.
But Kieran couldn’t stay away.
She told the remaining team that she was going to the pub. It wasn’t a lie; she would head there right after she went to Brooklyn.
Right after she saw Craig.
Because there was no way in hell she couldn’t see him now, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t make sure for herself that he was absolutely all right.
She allowed Egan to get an officer to drop her off at Finnegan’s.
She hopped out, and was about to turn around to quickly head for the subway. But just as the police car pulled away, Danny came walking up.
“Hey! Just finished up a tour. I was going to call you. I was worried. Kind of silly, I guess. I mean, you’re not out in Brooklyn often, but with everything going on... Did you hear there was a massive explosion? But, thank God, I see you’re here, and...”
“Craig is there. Come on!” She grabbed her brother by the upper arm of his jacket.
“Hey!” He resisted.
“Come on, Danny, please, before Declan comes out and it turns into a big thing. Please? I need you with me. I have to see Craig. Please, come on!”
Danny let out a breath.
“Yeah, yeah...okay. Hurry to the subway...speed it up before someone looks out one of the pub windows!” Danny shook his head and blew out a breath. “I sure as hell don’t want to explain abetting you in crazy deeds to Declan, either!”
* * *
It wasn’t really difficult to hide in plain sight—by the time Kieran and Danny arrived at the scene of the explosion in Brooklyn, yellow tape was up, officers were about everywhere, and crowd control was in full effect because there were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people on the streets. To say that a crowd had formed would be putting it mildly.
That didn’t deter Kieran—Craig was somewhere here. She was simply terrified for him; her heart was racing. In pure panic, she started to plow her way through people, determined that she had to get to him.
Danny stopped her, pulling her around, holding her firmly and brooking no argument.
“He’s all right. Kieran, don’t go off the handle. You can put yourself in danger. You can get yourself killed.”
“But, Craig...”
“Craig is smart, tough—and more,” Danny said.
“No one is tough enough to survive an explosion!”
“I thought they told you he wasn’t in the building. Damn, sis—have some faith in the man.”
“I have nothing but faith in him, but how the hell would he know a building was about to explode?”
“He’s all right. Believe me.”
She inhaled sharply; as they had wedged themselves into the crowd staring at the burnt-out shell of a building, Egan had arrived.
So had the media.
The street was an absolute zoo of people of importance, people wanting to speak to the people of importance, and people just watching the scene of the disaster. As she looked around, she saw that Jacob Wolff had not been able to resist the temptation to find out what was going on, either. He was pressed in the crowd to their left, a look of tortured concern on his face.
He must have somehow felt Kieran’s eyes on him because he turned, and he saw her. And since she had taken him unaware, he smiled before turning back.
They were in this together, she determined. They had been told to stay away.
Neither had been able to do so.
An officer spoke over a bullhorn, asking people to please respect the police line and let the emergency workers do their jobs.
The crowd seemed to shift back a little.
“What the hell?” Danny muttered suddenly as he bumped against Kieran.
“What?” Kieran asked him.
“Someone pushed me.”
“It’s a crowd, Danny—people push in crowds,” she said.
“This girl shoved. She seemed scared, worse than you. And it was so weird, I swear she was muttering ‘the King is coming.’ Don’t know where she was from, but someone has to tell her—this is America. We don’t have kings and queens.”
“What?” Kieran demanded. “Who? Who was it? Where did she go, Danny?”
Someone jostled Kieran. She realized she’d been holding her cell phone.
It went flying.
“Damn,” she murmured, diving down to find it. It was impossible, but the damn thing seemed to have cleanly disappeared. She was nearly pushed over as someone walked by her.
“Hey!” she protested. And then, of course, she saw her phone.
Smashed to pieces. She still grabbed it, rising to look around for Danny. He was by her side, reaching for her arm, looking around and shaking his head with disgust. “People!”
“Danny, this woman who was talking about a king. What did she look like? Where is she now? We need to find her.”
“She was little, but strong! A blonde woman. She’s gone now. We’re not going to find her. But... Hey! What the bloody hell?”
Danny spun around as he spoke; Kieran saw that someone had grabbed his arm to draw him back from Kieran.
Danny had recently been learning to control his temper. He’d been learning not to behave too rashly. Danny’s impulses to help others—especially those he perceived as downtrodden or used or abused—had gotten him into trouble in the past. He was quick to swing a fist.
Kieran gripped his forearm with both hands before he could possibly respond, even as his hand was clenching.
Because the person who had grabbed him was Jacob Wolff.
“I have to get you two out of here,” Wolff said.
“Get us out of here? Who the hell are you?” Danny demanded. Jacob was in plainclothes. He looked like any dark-haired slightly scruffy guy on the streets.
“Um...a friend,” Kieran said. “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked Wolff.
“Come on! Follow me—now!”
* * *
Craig was aware that the firefighters were now the only ones who should be in the building.
But he knew that someone was there. Anyone close knew that someone was there.
Dead or alive.
The thing was—the explosion had been set. The building had been destroyed on purpose.
So if someone had still been in the building, they were either a victim or they knew what had happened, possibly did it...
“There!” he said.
A black, smoldering pile lay on the floor. It moved.
Craig raced forward, his heart beating hard.
Was it the baby’s mother? Being killed before she could escape, before she could cause trouble? Had she been left behind to die a horrible death as a warning to others?
“Here!” he shouted, knowing that the fire department had EMTs with them, that help would be there in seconds. “Over here!”
He slid down on his knees, lifting a charred blanket.
It wasn’t the baby’s mother.
It was, however, a human being. A man. His skin was charred so that it was impossible to define the man’s race, his age...anything about him, other than that he had been at the very wrong end of a fierce explosion.
“Dead?” Mike asked softly, reaching him.
The pile moved slightly. Breath, yes, he saw the man take a breath...
Whoever it was...he was still alive!
“No. Hey, help! Over here!” Craig shouted again.
He had already been heard. Firemen rushed to the victim; as quickly as possible, they secured him onto a backboard and brought him out.
“He is breathing,” Craig said. “He’s alive.”
“Barely,” Mike muttered.
Craig looked at the man. He was astonished to see that it seemed one of his eyes opened. He was trying to wet his lips. Trying to speak.
Craig lowered his head and an ear toward the man’s mouth, straining to hear his whisper.
“They must think I’m dead, must think I’m dead... I am dead. The kids, oh, God, Lily...”
“Hey, it’s all right,” Craig said.
What a stupid thing to say. Nothing was all right. That man was most probably dying.
But, according to his whisper, it seemed he almost needed to be dead.
“Dead, dead. For the kids, Lily...”
His voice trailed away. His one half-opened eye closed.
“We’ve got him,” a voice said softly.
An EMT was there. A serious young woman who had a medical bag with her, and a partner who was quickly at her side. They began to rattle off orders and agreements to one another, and her male partner shouted for a stretcher.
A few minutes later, the man was ready for transport.
“Any chance he’ll make it?” Craig asked the young female EMT.
“Yeah—he’s still breathing. I always say there’s a chance—as long as you’re still breathing. If there is the hint of a pulse, even, there’s a chance,” she said. “His is not a good chance. But we don’t give up until...well, we don’t give up. You riding with him?”
“Yeah, thanks!” Craig said. He turned to Mike.
“Meet you at the hospital,” Mike said.
“Find Kieran first, please,” Craig said. “This group, they’re always a step ahead of us. Make sure she’s okay, huh? Bring her with you.”
“You got it. She was at the safe house, right? With Egan?” Mike asked.
“Yes!”
“I’m on it!” Mike promised.
Craig crawled into the ambulance, keeping the best distance he could in the small space from the EMTs working to save the man’s life.
He was still breathing in the horrible scent of burning human flesh...
He took a deep breath, anyway. Patience. He was praying hard that they could save this man’s life—even though the man didn’t particularly seem to want to be alive.
That was it, of course. He’d said, They must think I’m dead.
That was the threat.
If he lived, if he talked, they’d kill his wife and kids.
* * *
“‘Come with me!’” Danny whispered to Kieran. “He sounds like the friggin’ Terminator. I mean, he could have added, ‘If you want to live.’”
Kieran turned quickly to stare at her brother as they headed through the crowd in the direction of Jacob Wolff.
“Danny, he may mean just that! There’s someone in that crowd. Come on...we have to move, move fast!”
“Holy...whatever,” Danny muttered.
They moved down one alley and then another.
They were not in a good section of Brooklyn. Trash lay about; a stench rose from the street. The buildings around them appeared to be covered in the soot of decades, or perhaps a century; the whole area had a miasma about it, as if not just the trash and grime of time lay upon it, but as if poverty and hard labor and heartbreak and misery remained, as well.
“Where’s he taking us?” Danny demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know we should be following him? Who the hell is he? Is this whole thing entirely crazy? He could be taking us down dark alleys to slit our throats—”
“He’s an undercover agent, Danny,” she whispered back.
“Here!”
Jacob Wolff suddenly stopped, hurriedly used a key in a lock, and pushed open a nondescript door.
He ushered them in and closed and locked the door behind them.
The place was as nondescript as the door. Sparse furnishings, somewhat dark and dingy; it offered something of a living room/dining room area, a kitchen. There was no desk to be seen, no computer and absolutely nothing that might indicate anything about an owner or a resident.
“Safe house, hideout safe house, really. No one stays here, but it gets you out of the immediate action,” Jacob explained.
“Yeah, the immediate action,” Danny agreed. He looked at Kieran. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so...you’re an undercover cop.”
“I won’t be much longer. This thing is bursting into the open. I’ll be seen through soon enough—I’ve been hanging around the places where the worst of the worst hang out too often,” Wolff muttered. He looked at Kieran. She was afraid it might be an accusing look.
“If this blows open, you’ll need a break—a real life for a while, anyway,” she told him.
He didn’t argue with that.
“But...what the hell are we doing here? What was going on? Why did you drag us here?” Danny asked.
“The King and Queen are out there somewhere,” Jacob said.
Danny looked at Kieran as if she had really dragged him into a madhouse.
“King and Queen. Hey, buddy, sorry—this is America!”
There was a nice ring to his words—very patriotic—Kieran thought.
“They’re criminals, Danny, who go by those monikers so that no one knows their real names or even pseudonyms they might use. And to make those working more or less bow down before them,” Kieran explained.
“You should have let them come at me. Come on. What New York Irish kid hasn’t had a few boxing lessons?” Danny demanded.
“I’m not sure you understand this neighborhood, or these people. For the most part, they’ve gone to the dark side, some just to survive. They don’t fight fair, Mr. Finnegan,” Wolff said. “They slip through a crowd with knives, guns, needles...you name it. They kill without blinking, without anyone ever knowing who they are.”
Danny looked at Kieran. “The woman on the street...by your office. She was killed by the King or the Queen?”
“Or someone ordered by them to kill,” Kieran said.
“But they don’t just kill random people in a crowd,” Danny said.
Wolff appeared uncomfortable. He looked at Kieran, and then shrugged.
She was glad that he didn’t assume Danny to be ignorant of what went on around him.
Danny groaned. “I get it. Kieran. They know who Kieran is—they know her association with the case. God, that’s horrible. Okay, so—the King and Queen must be caught.” He looked at his sister, his lips pressed tightly together until he opened his mouth to speak. “Or you can’t ever just walk down a street!”
He didn’t wait for a reply from her. He turned to Wolff. “What were they doing out there—the King and the Queen? And who pushed by me—someone terrified of them? And on top of everything else, I’ve been trying to make her act like a normal human being, so can you find out if Craig is all right? She’ll run out in the street like a pawn ready for a sacrifice to a king or a queen if she doesn’t find out about him soon.”
Danny sounded hard—but calm. And reasonable.
Wolff nodded slowly. “Someone who must have been running from them pushed by you. I saw her, too. I have to get back out on the street—I have to try to find her. My assumption is that our new friends—Riley and Tanya—have proven that escape is possible, so someone else is trying to run. We were too close to their operation—at the warehouse that just exploded—and they had to move. Maybe someone slipped out in the confusion. I’ll make a call and find out about Craig. Uh...make yourselves at home. There’s water in the refrigerator, maybe some juice or sodas. I’ll get someone here to get you safely out as soon as possible.”
“We’re trapped here?” Danny asked flatly.
“For now.”
“Just find out about Craig, please,” Kieran urged. “I don’t know what he’s doing. I assume that he’s okay but really busy, but my phone was smashed in the crowd. I can’t call him.”
Danny pointed a finger at her. “You owe me one. Damn it, you will be careful. You will stay alive! You owe me one.”
“Oh, Daniel Finnegan, you have your nerve!” Kieran told him. “After the messes you’ve gotten me into, not to mention...”
She let her voice trail off. Wolff was almost smiling as he watched the two of them.
To Kieran’s surprise, he shrugged and told Danny, “Hey, I have a sister, too. It’s never easy.”
Her mouth opened in astonishment. But she didn’t speak. Wolff had already turned away.
And Danny was grinning.
“Yep, sisters. Every guy understands the trauma,” he assured her.
* * *
Craig had to fight to control himself not to pace or crawl the very walls in his efforts to remain patient.
Their victim was in critical shape. Critical was surely an understatement for the condition. It was going to be some time—saving a human life came before any other need in a hospital. Craig might well be desperate to hear the man speak again, but he was going to have to wait.
And nothing could drag him away from the hospital right now.
This man could hold the elusive key to the entire operation.
Craig had just been ushered to a private waiting room when he was joined by Detectives Holmes and Beard. They hurried in, looking at him expectantly and hopefully.
“They said we can wait. Pray, hope, whatever, but his chances aren’t good. He suffered extensive burns,” Beard said, looking at Craig as if he might just give him something a little more optimistic.
“He’s alive right now,” Craig said.
“So he could make it,” Holmes put in determinedly.
“We’ll go on that hope,” Craig told them.
Before he could get any further, Lance Kendall came hurrying in. Like Holmes and Beard before him, he stared at Craig hopefully. “Anything? Anything?”
“Something, anyway—he did speak,” Craig said.
“What? He spoke? Really. He spoke? Then he told you...?” Kendall asked.
“Lord, help us all! Did we get another name?” Beard asked.
“No. I’m sorry. I should have used the words murmured fairly incoherently,” Craig said. “He didn’t give me a name. But he did give me an understanding. He wasn’t terrified of dying—he was ready to die. He was terrified of someone knowing that he didn’t die. Whoever the hell he was working for—or under. These people—the King and Queen and the crew beneath them—must be threatening the loved ones of anyone who falls under their power. Now, I don’t know how far their terror extends. I don’t know if they can strike at loved ones only in the States or also back in their homelands—I don’t pretend to know how this group manages their reign of terror. Our victim believes that if these people discover that he’s not dead, someone else—someone he loves—is in danger. I was about to call my supervising director. I want to put a statement out saying that one man was found dead in the rubble. He has to be protected. He may live. He may come to. But if we’re to get any kind of cooperation from him, we’re going to have to help him and his family. I believe that helping him means getting the info out there that he was found dead.”
“And then we pray he doesn’t die—that he can tell us something,” Holmes said. He swore suddenly, pacing across the room. “He has to live.”
“Yeah,” David Beard agreed glumly. He looked at Craig. “God, there has to be an end to this. If we lose him...another five years, and God knows how many lives may be lost, as well.”
Craig’s phone was buzzing. He excused himself to answer it.
Mike was on the other end. “Craig, Egan is at the scene of the explosion. Apparently, they took Kieran to Finnegan’s.”
“Okay, so...can you get her and bring her here?”
“I’m going to go to Finnegan’s right now,” Mike said.
There was something strange in his tone that alerted Craig to trouble.
“You’re going there now? Because you’ve spoken to her—and she knows you’re coming to get her?”
Mike was silent a minute. “She’s not answering her phone. I’m going there because I know she was let out there by one of our people.” He went quiet again.
“Mike?”
“Okay, well, apparently, she isn’t there. But one of the waitresses thinks that she saw her with one of her brothers, so she isn’t alone. And I’m going to find her.”
“Which brother?”
“Danny.”
“Great,” Craig said, not entirely honestly.
Kieran was missing.
And so, Craig realized, there was something that could drag him away from the hospital.
“I’ll meet you at Finnegan’s,” Craig said. His heart was pounding; his mouth was dry.
On the one hand, he was ready to throttle her.
Why the hell wasn’t she safely at the family pub, surrounded by her brothers and a dozen people who were like family?
And on the other hand...
He couldn’t even begin to imagine losing her.
“Hey, partner, she probably just ran out of battery or something in her phone,” Mike said. “You stay there. I’ll find her.”
“Kendall, Beard and Holmes are here. And our fellow isn’t going to be able to talk for hours—maybe days—if ever. I’ll meet you at Finnegan’s,” Craig said flatly.
“Craig, I... We’ll find her.”
* * *
“Craig is fine,” Wolff told Kieran. “I’ve just reached Director Egan, who’s going to help get you safely out of here, and he assured me that Craig’s all right. He saw him leave with someone who was injured, but Craig was just fine. Okay?”
Kieran let out a long breath, relief flooding through her. “Thank you,” she told him.
“Of course. But you need to remain here until his people are able to come for you,” Wolff told them.
“How will we know when his people come?” Danny asked. “You know, neither of us is armed if the wrong person comes here.”
“The wrong person won’t come here,” Wolff assured him. “Egan will send someone you know. You don’t open the door until you hear that the agents are here for you. You all right with that?”
“Yes, of course,” Kieran said.
“No. You drag us here, and then leave us,” Danny said.
“He got us out of a dangerous situation, Danny. And now he has to go back to work,” Kieran said. “We’re fine,” she assured Wolff. “I know Egan. He’ll have people here for us right away.”
“Hey, I watch television! I’ve seen all the cop shows. You don’t leave witnesses alone,” Danny said.
“Danny!”
“If anything happens to you...” Danny said, looking at her. “Well, for one, everyone will blame me.”
“None of this was your fault. I made you come with me,” Kieran said. “And nothing is going to happen to us.” She turned from her brother to the undercover cop who had brought them to safety. “We’re fine, Jacob. Absolutely. Danny—do you want someone else to die?”
“Of course not.” Danny frowned, staring at her.
“I have to see who I can find,” Wolff said softly. “Obviously there is at least one person out there trying to escape in the midst of all this. Possibly more than one if you heard her talking to someone.”
“Go on. Get out there,” Danny said.
Wolff smiled. “I’m going out the back. Come and I’ll show you the latch and you can reset it.”
“Of course,” Danny said. He followed Wolff. Kieran followed Danny—there was no way that she wasn’t going to see exactly what was going on.
They went through a little hall. It ended at a wall with a box in front of it. Wolff moved the box; there was a small door. He slid a bolt and she saw that the small door led out into a smoky, rat-infested alley that couldn’t have been more than four feet wide. But Wolff headed out into the narrow space.
“Close it and throw the bolt,” Wolff told them.
Danny did so. “Done!” he shouted.
They didn’t hear more from Wolff. After a moment, Kieran turned and headed into the living area of the little place.
“What are you doing?” Danny asked her.
“Turning on the TV.”
“That’s it? You’re just turning on the TV?” Danny asked.
“Yeah. You have a better idea?”
“I don’t like this. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Yes, but...”
“I get it. I get it, Kieran. I just don’t have to like it. You hang with scary people.”
“You like Craig.”
“I love him, like a brother, and I figure he will be my brother-in-law one day. But...”
“Craig didn’t make this happen, Danny. The woman came and shoved that baby into my arms.”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this this afternoon,” he said. “I should have said, hell, no, if you’re trying to connive with me, something is not right.”
“We’re in some kind of a safe house, or a crash house, or...whatever. I know this guy—Jacob Wolff. He’s an amazing man. We’re good,” Kieran said. She turned the television on, thinking that she’d click around until she found the news about the explosion.
She didn’t have to flick channels at all.
A newsman stood among the smoke and flames, the sound of sirens, of shouts, of people on the street, speaking loudly into his microphone.
“No one knows as yet what caused the explosion, though we’re assuming—with the amount of law enforcement officials hovering around—that arson is suspected. We’re looking into ownership of the building, though here’s what’s good—it appeared to have been deserted. Sorry to say that one man has been discovered in the building, dead, killed by the blast, but no further details are forthcoming at this moment. Now, if you’ll look behind me, you can see that the New York Fire Department is still struggling to control all the flames...”
“One man dead,” Danny murmured. He looked at his sister. “So someone was killed in the explosion. But it wasn’t Craig. You know that.”
Kieran nodded. She could see that Egan was there, on the street in the background. She assumed that he was speaking with other high-ranking officials or officers.
“Craig is there somewhere working, you know,” Danny said.
“Yes, of course.”
“So you shouldn’t really be bothering him. In fact, honestly, and not to be a mean brother or anything, but we probably never should have come out here.”
“Maybe not,” Kieran agreed. And then she felt like an idiot. “You have your phone!”
“Of course I have my phone. If you hadn’t had yours out in that insane crowd, you wouldn’t have dropped it and it wouldn’t be smashed mush right now.”
“Not the point. Can you please call Craig for me?” she asked.
“Sure. Or here—you can call him.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say that before?”
“You never said anything.”
“My phone was smashed.”
“Yeah? So you should have thought to ask me.”
And, of course, she should have.
“Give it to me now.”
“Here.” He handed her his phone. She found Craig’s number on it quickly and hit the speed dial for him.
Craig answered. “Danny? Danny, is Kieran with you? Where the hell is she?”
She inhaled deeply. He was going to be angry.
“Craig, it’s me.”
“Why in God’s name aren’t you answering your phone? Where are you?”
She didn’t want to tell him her phone had been stomped on in a crowd—he’d know where she’d been. But she did have to tell him where she was, and then, of course, he’d know where she’d been, anyway.
“I broke my phone,” she said simply. “I’m safe, and I’m with Danny. I...we came to Brooklyn. I was worried about you. We ran into Jacob Wolff in the crowd. He thought we should come with him. We’re in some kind of a hideaway or safe house or whatever you all call it. I’m not sure I know how to give you the address for this place—”
“I know where it is. Kieran, what the hell were you doing at the scene of the explosion? Mike was trying to find you for me. I was crazed here, not knowing... Damn it—these people are ruthless when it comes to killing!”
“Yes, and I was worried about you. I’m sorry!” she said. “Anyway, we’re fine. And you didn’t let me know what was going on—I didn’t know that you were okay. Seriously, Craig...” Her voice trailed. Danny was looking at her, shaking his head.
Craig was trained; she was not. Craig carried a gun; she did not.
She let out a breath. “Look, I apologize, but we’re safe. Wolff said that Egan was going to send someone for me—”
“I’ll talk to Egan. Hold tight. I’ll come and get you myself.”
“Okay. We’ll be here,” she said lamely. Then words rushed from her. “I’m sorry. I saw the news. I know that a man was killed. I know that we’re getting information too late. I know that they even killed a nun. I’m...so sorry.”
“You’ve got to be careful,” he warned softly. “Anyway, hang tight. Mike and I will be there.”
“Sounds good,” she murmured. She wondered if she should add an “I love you.”
People were listening; this was a professional situation.
Danny was staring at her.
She was pretty sure that Craig was with Mike.
“Sounds good,” she repeated, and she clicked the end button and handed the phone to Danny.
“They’re coming.”
“What should we do until then?”
“There’s always the TV.”
“And the news is just great,” Danny said drily.
“I’m sure we can find something else.”
“I don’t think they have a bunch of the premium channels being piped in here,” Danny said, playing with the remote control.
He paused as another anchor went on and on about the explosion. This man connected it—somehow—to the murder that had taken place in Manhattan the Friday before.
“Strange happenings, even for this city,” the man was saying. “Last week, a Jane Doe murdered in broad daylight. This week, a building going up in a massive mystery explosion, and another man—unidentified—dead. Melinda,” he went on, talking to the anchorwoman in the studio, “I’m going to say that police have their hands full with this. And, of course, we’re reminded of that poor woman found bleeding to death in Brooklyn five years ago. This is a city of dreams turned into a nightmare for many!”
“I thought the police were being very closemouthed about the things they learned to protect the women who are in danger,” Danny muttered.
“They aren’t giving out any information, Danny. I guess reporters are going to know what has happened in the past and they’ll be able to look up anything that was ever told in a police press conference. They’re bound to speculate.”
“Everyone is speculating.” Danny stared at the television and then turned to her. “Kieran, if they did kill Sister Teresa, they will stop at nothing.”
A chill seemed to catch in her heart and streak through her veins. She was about to reassure him, to remind him that Craig and Mike were coming. Before she could speak, she heard a thud against the front door.
Her heart nearly leapt from her throat.
Danny did leap from the sofa where he had been sitting.
They stared at one another for a long second, and then ran on tiptoes together to the door.
There was a tiny peephole. Kieran found it first and looked out.
She could see nothing. Only darkness. Shaking her head, she moved away from the door.
Danny had to see for himself. He pressed his face to the door, one eye to the peephole. He kept changing his position. He shook his head, and then beckoned her away from the door.
“The bolts on it are good and strong,” he said in a whisper. “No one is coming in that way without a battering ram. And as for the back entrance...no. We’re fine. We need to sit tight. If someone knows that anyone is in here, they’ll be listening. We need to be quiet.”
“The television,” Kieran said.
“It’s been on—can’t turn it off now. That would clearly show that someone is in here.”
“But—”
“Trust me. I was one hell of a punk, even if I thought I was a crusader for truth, justice, the American way and little kids who were picked on,” he said, grinning. “Me being one of them, of course.”
She tried a weak smile for her brother. “The door is good and solid,” she said.
They looked at each other; there was nothing more to do.
Kieran tiptoed back to the door, followed by her brother. They both looked out the little peephole again. There was nothing but darkness.
“Guess the city can’t afford lights for these poor alleys, huh?” Danny asked.
“Maybe it’s just the way that the lights are set up,” Kieran said. “They’re on the main streets, so they don’t quite glow down the alleyways...”
Danny grunted.
Then they heard the sound of something thunderous slamming against the door.
Kieran jumped way back from the door.
Danny hesitated, and then looked out.
Kieran waited, barely daring to breathe.
“Well?” she whispered.
“Nothing,” he told her. “Whoever it is,” he whispered, “they might be figuring out the fact that the door is solid and the bolts are steel.”
“What about the back?” she whispered urgently. “We never checked!”
“No, we didn’t,” Danny said.
“Let’s go,” Kieran mouthed.
She led the way; Danny hurried after her down the small hallway. She hadn’t put the box back after Wolff had left. They had, at least, latched the bolt.
They had barely reached it when they heard a sound.
This time, it wasn’t someone pounding on the door. It was as though someone were trying to test it as quietly as possible. Kieran looked at Danny. His eyes widened. She wasn’t imagining it.
She reached out and tested the bolt. It was strongly in place. Whoever was trying the door could twist and twist at the knob—it wouldn’t change the fact that steel was holding the door closed.
She wasn’t sure it helped any, but she started to shove the box back in front of it. Danny helped. The door was bolted, and now there was a second layer between them and whoever was out there.
Danny beckoned Kieran back in. “Call Craig,” he said, barely moving his mouth and making sound. “If he can get here while this is going on, first off, he can save our asses! Secondly, he might catch someone who has something to do with all this.”
Kieran started to accept the phone from Danny. As she did so, they heard a strange scratching sound at the front door.
Then, to her surprise, she heard a voice. It was a male voice, deep and rich, but sounded as if the speaker was putting on a deliberately scary tone.
“We know you’re in there...we’re going to get you! We’ll huff and we’ll puff and...eventually, we’ll get to you. It will be so, so bad. You can, however, open the door and make it easy, and if it’s easy for me, it will be so much easier for you!”
Danny and Kieran stared at each other; they shook their heads simultaneously, almost reading one another’s minds.
No. This guy meant to kill them—meant to kill whoever he found. There was no way in hell they were going to make it easy.
Another voice sounded, but softly. The speaker was a female—and she wasn’t trying to be heard. She was nearly whispering, and it was impossible to make out her words.
The male voice came to them again, strong and loud. “I’m not going to give you any second chances. You’re dying tonight one way or another!”
Kieran stared at Danny.
“What the hell do we do?” she whispered.
He shrugged. “I guess we can pray?”