Chapter 16

Hugh ground his palms into his eyes. It was four in the morning, and he needed sleep desperately. At eleven the night before, he’d reluctantly woken his sleeping beauty and they’d made their careful—much more careful than if he’d been driving—way down the mountain. Although she wasn’t thrilled to be excluded from the action, Grace couldn’t argue about her lack of law enforcement skills, so she’d reluctantly stopped at the police station to join Jules and the kids for the night.

It had felt wrong to leave her there, to not have her with him for the first time in several days. Hugh hoped she was sleeping, that she wasn’t worrying, but he doubted it. At least she’d managed to doze for a few hours before they’d had to leave their mountain hideout.

His phone beeped, and he grimaced. Although he assumed it was Lieutenant Blessard, leaving his one-hundredth message, he checked just in case it was Grace or Theo or Otto. It was none of those people. Instead, it was the final death knell of his cell phone battery charge. Sliding the phone back in his pocket, he figured the lack of a charge was for the best. Now when he told LT that his phone was dead, he wouldn’t be lying.

He shifted his weight, rubbing at his stiffening thigh, and then hopped up and down in place a few times, making sure to keep his weight on his good leg. It didn’t work. He still felt like he was going to fall asleep standing up. By his feet, Lexi was stretched out on the ground, snoring.

They’d been staking out Main Street for more than four hours. During that time, only thirteen vehicles had passed. Theo and Otto had stopped every one, since they’d all been traveling over the twenty-mile-per-hour speed limit that the city council had pushed through a few years earlier. Hugh had walked Lexi around each car, SUV, and truck, but she hadn’t signaled that there were drugs on any of them. All the drivers had been let off with a warning, except for one who’d been texting as he came through town. The oblivious guy had almost driven right on top of Theo, who seemed grimly pleased to write the citation for that one.

Hugh swayed with exhaustion. His knees softened, and he had to catch his balance on the tree next to him. He needed to move, to do something, or he’d be on the ground, snoring right along with his dog.

“C’mon, Lex,” he said, his voice rough with lack of sleep. What he wouldn’t give to be curled up with Grace on a bed somewhere, even if it was a cot at the police station. “Let’s go bug Theo. Or Otto. No, Theo. He’s more fun to aggravate.”

Yawning, Lexi stood and stretched. Although she seemed to be taking the sleep interruptions well, her tail drooped a little.

“Sorry, girl.” Hugh rubbed the top of her head and behind her ears. “Just a few more hours to go and then you can sleep for a week.” He did his own stretch-and-yawn combination. “I know I’m going to.” The mental image of Grace sharing his bed made that plan even more appealing. As soon as they took care of Truman, and then dealt with Grace’s problem, things were going to be peaceful in Monroe. Hugh set his jaw. They’d better be. After all this, everyone involved—Hugh, Grace, Theo, Jules, the kids, Otto, Lexi, and even the lieutenant—deserved some rest.

As Hugh and Lexi approached the driver’s side of Theo’s car, he didn’t look at them. Instead, he stayed focused on his MCT—mobile computer terminal—screen, only reaching with one hand to raise the window.

“Funny guy,” Hugh muttered, starting to grin. When Theo blocked his efforts, Hugh had to get creative. Crouching down so his face was level with the window, his bad leg extended to the side, Hugh kept his unblinking gaze on Theo’s averted head. It took several minutes of concentrated staring before Theo broke and lowered the window a half inch.

“What?” he snapped, although he kept his voice low. They were going to have enough complaints about all the overhead light action that had been happening on Main Street during the wee morning hours. Hugh wasn’t sure how they were going to explain their unofficial sting operation to the lieutenant. Hugh saw a lot of menial tasks in his professional future…if he still had a job with MPD, that was.

Hugh gave Theo his most innocent look. “What?”

“What’s with the creeper act?”

With a laugh, Hugh asked, “Who’s acting?”

Turning to face the window, Theo frowned. “I have reports to finish. Did you need something, or are you just bored?”

“Bored.”

“Figures.”

“I’m tired.” Hugh stood, catching his balance on the top of Theo’s car when his leg wobbled. The muscle weakness was even worse than the pain sometimes. He could deal with the pain, but it usually took him by surprise when his leg gave out on him. “You need to keep me awake.”

“You’re not going to let me finish my reports, are you?”

“No.”

Theo’s answering growl cut off when they saw the gleam of headlights in the distance. Adrenaline flowed through him, and Hugh was suddenly not so sleepy. He moved back to his spot in the shadows of a couple of pine trees. If it was Truman’s shipment, Hugh didn’t want to risk that the driver would recognize him. Having a shoot-out in the middle of Main Street would be a bad thing.

The vehicle got closer, and Otto’s brake lights flashed. Good, Hugh thought. Otto’s ready.

As the incoming SUV drew closer and then passed Theo’s squad car, Otto turned on his overhead lights and pulled in front of the SUV, forcing it to stop. Theo immediately blocked it from the back. The two cops got out and approached the SUV from opposite sides, with Theo on the passenger’s side and Otto on the driver’s.

From Hugh’s vantage point, the driver looked like a woman in her forties. He couldn’t see a passenger. As he and Lexi approached the rear of the SUV, he heard the woman’s nervous prattle. “…don’t think I was speeding, Officer. I take this route every morning, except for my days off, and I know it so well I could drive it in my sleep. Oh! Not that I’d fall asleep while I was driving or anything. Just, you know, I could drive it if I… Where is that darn insurance card?”

As Hugh walked Lexi around the back of the SUV, he had a sinking feeling that this would be their fourteenth wrong vehicle. The woman could just be a really good actress, but it was more likely she was exactly who she said she was—a nurse with a two-hour mountain commute to the orthopedic clinic in Dresden where she worked. He doubted she ran drugs on the side.

Lexi agreed. She checked where he indicated, but she didn’t signal that she’d picked up on traces of any narcotics. She didn’t even hesitate anywhere. As they rounded the front of the SUV and finished the search along the driver’s side of the vehicle, the woman sucked in a sharp breath.

“Why do you have a dog here?” she demanded, her voice going shrill. “Is it going to smell my car? Do you think I have drugs? Oh my goodness.”

Hugh dredged up a grin. “Morning, ma’am. Don’t mind us. I have a dog we’re training, and I saw that these officers had you stopped, so I thought Lexi here could get some experience. Don’t worry. We didn’t find a thing.”

It wasn’t his best work, since a lack of sleep didn’t do much for his charm, but the woman seemed to soften a little. “Oh. Well, you could’ve asked first before you gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry about that, ma’am.” With a final, forced smile, he retreated to Theo’s squad car.

After a few more minutes, the woman was on her way to work again, and Theo and Otto joined him.

“Is this pointless? Are we wasting time here?” Hugh asked, rolling his sore shoulders. “Bad information, maybe? Or Truman was giving himself a few days of cushion, and the shipment won’t be coming until next week?”

Otto shrugged. “Could be. Theo and I still have four hours of our shift. Might as well stay on this.”

“Yep,” Theo agreed.

Leaning on the roof of Theo’s squad car, Hugh bit back a torrent of frustrated curses. He took a few deep breaths, trying to think rationally. Exhaustion made everything seem impossible, especially when his entire body was aching. “Okay,” he finally said, shoving every jab of pain into a box in his head. Just four more hours. He could do this. “I’ll be by the trees.”

* * *

Grace tapped her fingers on the side of her leg and fought the need to pace. Looking around the interview room, she sighed. It’d been only a few weeks since she’d barely escaped from one police station with her life, and now she was back in another one.

She clenched her hands and then relaxed them, shaking out the tension in her fingers. This wasn’t the same. She had allies with the police now, and even, thanks to those cop friends, with the FBI. This time, she wouldn’t have to run from one of Martin Jovanovic’s henchmen.

It would’ve been nice to have someone there with her. Her brain screamed Hugh, but she resolutely ignored it. She needed to get used to doing things by herself. After all, if this worked, she’d get to go home to California.

Grace waited for the usual flare of excitement at the thought of returning to her life, but it fizzled. She’d be thrilled to see Penny, but other than that… To her surprise, she’d miss parts of Monroe. Jules, Hugh, the kids, Hugh, Theo and Otto, Hugh, Lexi, Hugh, even that old mess of a house, and Hugh.

With a groan, she let her forehead rest on the table. It was time to stop pretending she could just wave goodbye and leave Monroe—and Hugh—without any heartbreak. A part of her wanted to stay, wanted to see what would happen if they did go on a real date, even if that was just to the viner. Hopefully, that date would not include Hugh picking a bathroom lock. Grace couldn’t help but smile at the thought, but then she gave herself a mental smack. She had a life—an incredibly wonderful, hard-won life—in California. Was she seriously considering giving up all she’d worked so hard for? She was probably just caught up in the moment. Once she got back to LA, she’d forget all about a certain gorgeous, clever Colorado cop.

Lifting her head, she sat back in her chair with a sigh. If she couldn’t have Hugh with her for moral support, she wished at least Jules had been there to talk to. The previous night, after Hugh had dropped Grace off at the station, the kindly desk sergeant had shown her where the women’s locker room was and then led her to a storage room where cots had been set up. Jules and the kids had occupied five of the cots, and there had been an empty one for her.

Jules and Sam had sat up when she’d entered. Once they saw it was her, Jules had given a sleepy wave, and both had fallen back asleep quickly. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Grace had collapsed in her cot, her entire body aching with the need for sleep. Unfortunately, her brain hadn’t cooperated, spinning with worries and scenarios that blended into her dreams and jerked her out of a light doze several times.

There hadn’t been any other extra cots, so she wasn’t really expecting Hugh to join them, but a tiny part of her had hoped he would stop in to let them know that the bust had gone well and that he wasn’t hurt. The hours had crawled by, however, and then it was early morning, and still there was no sign of Hugh. Jules and the kids had headed to the viner with a police escort, and Grace, after a quick shower in the locker room, had been shown to the interview room to wait for FBI Special Agent Shankle to arrive.

The door opened abruptly, and Grace jerked back, making the chair scrape against the floor. The memory of Officer Jovanovic escorting her toward the stairway and her possible death ran through her mind, and she stood, ready to flee. As soon as she got a good look at the man in the doorway, however, she calmed, recognizing him as the cop Theo had been talking to at the Rack and Ruin bust. She could tell just by his rigid posture, wiry form, and thinning gray hair.

He was frowning at her. In fact, that was an understatement. He was scowling ferociously at her. Grace stared back with wide eyes, not sure what she’d done to deserve the glare.

“Why is he not answering his goddamned phone?” the man demanded.

Comprehension dawned, and Grace smiled as she figured out who the angry man in front of her was. “You’re the lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant Blessard,” he snapped. “Do you know where he is? Will he answer if you call him? You have a phone on you? Call him right now. No, actually, give me your phone.” He held out a hand, palm up.

She dug her phone out of her pocket and handed it to him even before she realized what she was doing. The man had a commanding presence. “I’m pretty sure his phone is dead.”

“Yeah, that’s what he always says,” the lieutenant muttered, jabbing at the buttons. His heavy eyebrows drew together as he held the phone up to his ear. Almost immediately, he moved it down and stabbed his finger to end the call.

He tossed the phone back to her. She fumbled as she caught it but managed to keep it from hitting the floor.

“When you talk to him, you tell him that he needs to get his ass in here yesterday. Got it?”

“Got it.” As he turned away, she added, “What’s going on? Is he in danger? I mean, more danger than the Truman stuff, which I know is a pretty big danger, but…”

His glare made her words dry up, and she fell silent. “Yes. He’s in danger. What do you know about Truman? That’s an open investigation.”

“What kind of danger?” Her anxiety spiked as she thought of him being out all night, searching cars for the drug shipment. Was he okay? Had something already happened? Theo and Otto were there, though. She reassured herself that they would’ve called for help if anything had happened to Hugh…unless something had happened to them, too. Fear squeezed her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

The lieutenant’s face softened slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll track him down and drag him in by the scruff of his neck. He’ll be fine.”

With that perfectly useless platitude, he left, closing the door behind him with a sharp bang. Letting out a frustrated sound, Grace plopped back down in her chair and stared at her phone, wondering if she should call Theo and have him warn Hugh that…what? He already knew that his lieutenant was looking for him, and Hugh was well aware that he was in danger, thanks to the hit Truman had out on him.

If Blessard knew of something else, however, if there was a new danger that Hugh needed to watch out for, then it was worth a call to warn him. Decided, she found Theo’s number on her sadly short list of contacts. Before she could dial, the door swung open again, less violently that time. Although Grace startled again, she managed to stay in her chair.

A short, stocky, disheveled man stood in the doorway, holding a paper cup of coffee balanced on a short stack of files and notepads. His receding hairline and ill-fitting suit fit every television cliché, down to the visitor pass clipped to his jacket that had FBI printed in large letters. “Miss Robinson?”

“Yes?” She lowered her cell phone to her lap.

“Special Agent Josh Barrett from the FBI.” He placed the pile of papers on the table and held out the coffee cup.

“Thank you.” Grace accepted it eagerly, immediately taking a sip. It was some of the worst coffee she’d ever tasted, but she forced herself to take another drink. After her short, broken sleep the previous night, she needed caffeine desperately. “I thought I’d be talking to Agent Shankle.”

“He’ll be here shortly,” Barrett said, taking a seat across the table from her. “Lieutenant Blessard requested a word with him first.”

“Ah.” His answer reminded Grace that she needed to call Theo, but she couldn’t do that with the FBI agent in the room. She avoided glancing at the phone in her lap, taking a sip of coffee instead.

Barrett pulled a small digital recorder from his pocket. “Do you mind if I record this?”

“I don’t mind.” Exhaustion flooded Grace at the thought of having to tell the story of that terrible night, and she mentally shook herself. If she lived through it, she could talk about it. This would be the easy part. “I assumed it would be. Aren’t the police videotaping this room?” She glanced around, looking for a camera, but there were just bare walls.

Barrett chuckled. “Not in Mayberry—I mean, Monroe. This is just an office turned into an interview room. For these tiny towns, surveillance cameras aren’t in the budget.”

There was a smugness to his tone that made her frown, offended on behalf of Hugh and the other Monroe cops. The town might be small, but they worked hard. She could tell they really cared about their jobs. She started to defend them, but a wave of dizziness flooded her, and she lost her train of thought. Grace blinked hard, trying to bring the room back into focus.

“Miss Robinson, are you feeling okay?” Barrett’s words had a strange echo to them, and she stared at his blurry form. What was wrong with her? She’d thought it was just lack of sleep, but this was different. Fog rolled over her brain, and she fought to keep her eyes open. “Miss Robinson? Or do you prefer Kaylee?”

Her alarm was muted, her panic smothered under a thick blanket. Drugged. The realization came slowly, even as the room darkened and tilted sideways.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Kaylee.” The agent’s voice was distorted, the words stretched and blurred. “You can call me Truman.”

* * *

Grace woke up unable to move. Panic flushed through her, and her eyes popped open as she immediately started to struggle. Her muscles strained, but her arms and legs were restrained. She tried to yell, but something in and over her mouth stopped the sound. As the haze of unconsciousness started to clear, Grace realized that she’d been gagged and hog-tied, with her wrists and ankles bound together.

She blinked, trying to figure out where she was. The memory of the FBI agent—no, Truman—coming into the interview room, giving her coffee… Grace groaned, and the sound was absorbed by the gag. He’d drugged her. He’d drugged her and somehow moved her to wherever she was. Fear accelerated her heartbeat as reality returned. Where was she?

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Twisting her head back and forth, she realized that she was lying on her back in a small, rectangular space. Like a coffin. Her panic started to return, and she firmly shut it down. Light was coming from between the slats of a metal air vent next to her head. If the enclosure she was trapped in had been a coffin, there wouldn’t have been any light, and there definitely wouldn’t have been any air.

Even so, the horror of her situation was starting to sink in, and her breath came hard and fast. Stop! she commanded mentally, reining in her building terror. Giving in to fear would not solve her problem. She wasn’t sure what would solve it, but she knew for certain that getting hysterical wouldn’t help.

Turning onto her side, she twisted her hands so she could feel her bonds. Her fingers slid across a slick, familiar surface—duct tape. Her wrists worked, her fingers straining to find an edge, to pull and work at the tape, but the angle was wrong. Giving up on freeing her wrists, she reached for her feet. A rope of duct tape connected them to her hands, and she arched her back and pulled her bound ankles closer to her.

The front of her thighs screamed a protest at her awkward position as Grace picked and tugged at the tape. There was a thunk, and the light from the vent brightened, making her go still. Releasing her ankles, she craned her neck to peek through the slats.

She was in the back of a van, one that had been converted into…something. She could see a large, low sink and a table with a rubber, textured surface. The table looked familiar, and she remembered that Nan had a similar one at the kennel that she put the dogs on for grooming. Confusion added to Grace’s fear. What was this place?

One of the back doors was open, and Special Agent Barrett—no, Truman—climbed inside. Grace froze, not moving, not breathing. What was he going to do? Kill her? Torture her? This was the guy who put a hit out on Hugh, a cop, just to make it easier to run drugs. That kind of monster could be capable of anything.

He looked at the vent, and a cold smile crept over his face. “You awake in there, Kaylee?”

In a couple of strides, he was right next to her. With a click, the top of the enclosure—not a coffin, not a coffin—opened, and Truman stood over her, grinning. Trying to hide her shaking, she forced back her fear and packed all her rage and disgust into her glare.

“Comfortable?” he mocked. “I made it myself. From the outside, it looks like a water storage tank and heater, but it’s actually a very convenient hiding place.” His expression was expectant, as if he was waiting for her to rave over his cleverness. When she just continued to glower, Truman gave a tiny shrug. “I usually use it for…other things, but Jovanovic asked so nicely that I couldn’t refuse. When I told him a woman wanted to talk to the FBI about Martin Jovanovic, he guessed it was you right away. I must say, the photo he sent does not do you justice.” His reptilian eyes ran over her, and she fought the urge to cringe away from him. “He was quite desperate to know where you were hiding, but I’m keeping that to myself. I don’t want Jovanovic to send one of his goons to pick you up just so he won’t have to pay me. He’s cut me out of deals before. Fool me once, and all that.”

As much as she wanted to keep her tough expression, Martin’s name sent a surge of fear through her. Truman might not torture her, but he was delivering her to Jovanovic, and he wouldn’t have any qualms about causing Grace pain. She had firsthand evidence of that. The men’s bloody, battered faces filled her mind, and she forced them back. She couldn’t panic, not now. She tried to move, to pull free from her restraints, but all she managed was to bump her knees against the side of her enclosure.

“None of that.” Truman gave her a casual shove that rolled her onto her back, crushing her hands and feet painfully beneath her. “No one can hear you anyway. This auto shop is closed for the winter, and Monroe is like a ghost town. Just be a good girl, and I’ll deliver you into Jovanovic’s loving arms lickety-split. Well, I won’t be the one driving, but I’ll pay someone to get you there. How about that?”

He patted her on the head, and her rage returned, smothering the worst of her fear. If she hadn’t been gagged, she would’ve bitten his condescending, evil hand. Straightening, he lowered the top of her cage, and she heard a snap as something locked into place. Grace had a feeling that Truman hadn’t built in an emergency release lever for someone trapped in his drug hiding place.

Twisting onto her side again, she peered through the vent, watching as Truman hopped out of the back, leaving the door open. Grace felt a surge of urgency. She had to do something to take advantage of his absence and the open van door. Soon, they’d be in motion, and escaping would be that much more difficult. Once she was back in Martin’s hands… Squeezing her eyes closed, Grace blocked out the panic that followed. Think! There had to be some way to escape.

Her cell phone had been on her lap when she’d lost consciousness, so it was probably still in the interview room, unless Truman had grabbed it. Calling for help was out. Hugh’s face filled her mind, and she desperately wished she was with him, teasing him, joking with him, feeling safe. It hurt to think about him when she might never see him again, and she banished the thought. Plan! she ordered her brain. Think of a plan!

Her mind just spun in helpless, useless circles. Needing to do something, she reached for her ankles again, starting to pick at the tape while she thought. Truman had said they were in an auto shop. The only one that came to mind was a squatty little place perched on the very edge of town, a good distance away from any other buildings. Even if Monroe hadn’t been mostly empty, the shop was isolated. If she managed to make noise, no one would hear—no one except Truman. Her fingers dug at the tape more and more frantically, and she forced them to slow. Panic wouldn’t help. It only made it harder to think.

Truman climbed into the van, and she went still. Even though he knew she was there—he’d put her in there—she still instinctually tried to hide in place. As she stared through the vent, he carefully placed what looked like a canister vacuum on the shelf under the grooming table. His movements were so tentative that she examined the vacuum more closely, wondering why something labeled Pet Vac-N-Blow required such careful handling. She didn’t notice anything obviously off about it, though.

Once the vacuum was in place, Truman backed away, sending a grin toward Grace’s vent. “A little present for your cop friend, just in case he decides to stop your delivery today.”

Grace’s eyes went wide, and her body involuntarily jerked, thumping her bound feet against the side of her cage. Hugh? Her heart pounded as she stared at the innocuous-looking vacuum.

“Smells like coke,” Truman said, his tone slightly amused. “Officer Murdoch’s ever-so-talented dog will lead him right to it.”

It was hard to hear Truman with her blood roaring in her ears, so Grace tried to force herself to calm down so she could listen. Air tore in and out of her lungs in frantic gasps as Truman smiled.

“Don’t tell him, but there’s a surprise inside. One that goes boom.”

Grace screamed into her gag.

* * *

As the van rolled into motion, jostling her back and forth in her tiny prison, Grace lost control of her panic. She fought her restraints wildly, not even feeling her muscles shriek as she pulled against her bonds. Her fingers scrabbled to grip the tape, and two of her short nails bent back past the quick, but it didn’t matter. She needed to get free before Hugh stopped the van, before Lexi found the drug-laced explosives, before the bomb went off, killing them all. Bound as Grace was, there was no way to warn them. She’d just have to lie there and watch, helpless, as everyone died.

With each second, they rolled closer to the street where she feared that Hugh, Theo, and Otto waited, and with each second, Grace prayed frantically that they’d already left, given up, gone back to the safety of the station. She’d still be sent back to Martin and killed, but at least Hugh and Lexi and the other cops wouldn’t die along with her.

Flashing red-and-blue lights lit up the back of the van as it rolled to a stop. A sob jerked through Grace, and she choked on the wad of fabric in her mouth. This was it. She renewed her struggles, but then paused to listen as a stranger’s voice said from the driver’s seat, “Was I speeding, Officer?”

Otto’s low rumble responded. “Yes. License, registration, and proof of insurance, please.”

“Sorry about that.” The driver gave an unconvincing chuckle. “These small mountain towns come up so fast. I’m on the highway, going fifty-five, and then suddenly I’m on Main Street. Takes a while to adjust.”

Grace shifted, moving her lower body into place so she would be ready to bang her knees and feet against the wall of her enclosure as soon as there was a second of silence. Unfortunately, the driver continued to babble.

“I drive this route all the time, since the Dresden ladies love their fluffy lap dogs to be clean, but I’ve never been pulled over here before. Didn’t even know you guys had cops in this town.” That awkward half laugh came again, and Grace gritted her teeth. If only the guy could shut up for five seconds, she could slam her legs against the wall hard enough for Otto to hear. If the cops found her first, before the bomb was activated, then she could warn them.

The faint sound of Hugh’s voice made Grace stop breathing. She strained to hear, but his words were unintelligible. Otto must have heard what he needed to hear, though, since he interrupted the still-babbling man. “Step out of the car, please.”

“What? Why?” The guy sounded panicked. He must have obeyed Otto, because the van bobbled slightly as he climbed out of the driver’s seat, and his babbled excuses and bluster grew fainter.

The back door jerked open, and Lexi hopped inside, followed by Hugh. No! Grace screamed, but the gag took away all of the sound. She swung her lower body as best she could, hitting her feet and knees painfully against the side of the small space, but an arriving squad car’s siren gradually grew louder, muffling the sound. With a glance toward Grace’s vent, Lexi went straight to the grooming table and sat in front of it, her attention locked on the pet vacuum.

“Good girl, Lex!” Hugh said. He limped toward Lexi, pulling a braided tug out of his pocket, but the dog didn’t grab on to the toy. Instead, she spun around and started sniffing Grace’s vent.

Good girl, Lexi! Grace made a grateful sound in her throat. Hugh was watching the dog curiously.

“What’s up? Bored with Mr. Tugs already?” he asked, his words barely audible above the siren. “Too many dog smells in the pet-mobile to resist?” After a few moments, he turned back toward the pet vacuum and pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. As he lifted the rigged, deadly appliance, Grace screamed at him, but the sound was lost in her gag and the multiple sirens gathering outside.

Over and over, she slammed her body against the side of her enclosure. Tears of terror and frustration filled her eyes, turning Lexi into a blurry brown-and-black blob. Grace blinked, desperate to see, to know what was happening, and tears ran sideways across the bridge of her nose and down her face. Lexi started to paw at the vent and bark.

Frowning, Hugh put the vacuum on the grooming table and moved to crouch next to Lexi. The sirens went silent, and Grace’s knees hit with a dull thud. Hugh jumped back, drawing his gun. “Lexi, here!”

Lexi reluctantly moved to his side, her tail low and her attention still on Grace’s vent. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Grace babbled silently, rolling so her shoulder hit the side this time.

“Who’s there?” Hugh barked, and Grace thumped her knees in response. He moved toward her, but slowly, too slowly with the bomb sitting right next to him. Who knew where Truman—in his Agent Barrett guise—was, or if he had a way to detonate the explosives remotely. They didn’t have much time. Grace knocked into the side with her head. It was the loudest sound she’d made so far, but it hurt the most, and her vision grayed slightly. She gritted her teeth, blinking rapidly. If she passed out and couldn’t talk, then Hugh would never know about the bomb, even if he got her out in time.

As Hugh cautiously crouched by Grace again, her head cleared. Obviously taking Hugh’s movement as permission, Lexi resumed scrabbling at the vent. Hugh peered through the opening, and Grace pressed her face against the other side.

“Ah!” He jumped back slightly before his eyes widened. “Grace?”

She stared at him, making useless sounds in her throat. Get out! There’s a bomb! her brain was screaming, but he couldn’t hear her, couldn’t read her mind.

“Otto! Theo!” he shouted, standing.

No! Don’t call them! Her mental shouts were useless, though. All Grace could see of Hugh were his lower legs, but she heard him tapping and thumping on different parts of the fake water tank. She squeezed her eyes closed. He was trying to figure out how to get her out when he and Lexi should’ve been running away as fast as they could.

“What is it?” Otto asked, sticking his head inside the van.

“Grace is in here.” His voice was grim and frantic at the same time.

“What?”

There was a click. “Got it.” His voice was thick with satisfaction as the top swung open.

Grace stared at him, desperately saying, “Bomb!” over and over, but it came out as incomprehensible, muffled sounds.

“I’ve got you, Gracie,” Hugh crooned, his voice gentle although the look on his face was ferocious. He pulled out a pocketknife and cut through the tape rope hog-tying her. Her legs straightened, her muscles protesting, and she groaned. He carefully started slicing through the tape on her wrists, but Grace shook her head adamantly.

The gag! Take off the gag!

He was obviously a terrible mind reader, because he ignored her and continued separating her wrists. As soon as they loosened, Grace yanked hard, pulling her hands apart.

“Careful!” Hugh warned, pulling back the knife.

Ignoring him, she reached up for the tape covering her mouth, scratching her skin as she tried to peel up a corner.

Hugh frowned and reached out with the hand not holding his knife. “You’re hurting yourself.”

She didn’t care. A few scratches were nothing compared to what would happen to all of them if the bomb detonated. Finally, finally, she managed to get hold of the edge of the tape, and she yanked it off. It was painful…very painful. Despite her desperation and adrenaline, she still felt the sting, but she ignored it and spit out the wad of damp fabric.

“Bomb,” she croaked as soon as her mouth was clear.

“What?” Hugh and Otto said in unison.

Grace swallowed, trying to moisten her throat. It was so dry that she retched, but she forced herself to speak again, to get the words out. “Bomb!” Her voice was harsh and cracked, but at least it was understandable. “The vacuum is a bomb!”

There was barely a half second pause before the cops sprang into action as smoothly as if they’d rehearsed. As Otto grabbed Lexi’s leash, Hugh snatched up Grace, slinging her over his shoulder.

“Agent Barrett is Truman,” Grace gasped. “Is he here?”

“Yeah, and he’s on his phone.” Otto’s voice was grim as he leapt out of the van with Lexi.

“His phone?” Her words were shrill, but Grace couldn’t help it. Was Truman using his phone to remotely set off the bomb? They had to get out—now.

Hugh grabbed the vacuum in his right hand, and rushed toward the door behind Otto and Lexi.

“Are you crazy?” Every word tore at Grace’s throat, but she didn’t care about the pain. “That’s the bomb! The vacuum is the bomb!”

“Yeah, I got it,” Hugh grunted as he leapt out of the back. “Don’t want the van to be an even bigger one. Gas tank and nasty shrapnel and all.”

As he landed, Grace’s body thumped down hard where she was folded over his left shoulder, and he staggered before catching his balance. Lifting the vacuum, he hurled it, football style, into the air. Arching her back, Grace craned her neck to watch. It seemed to move in slow motion, arcing high with hose and cord fluttering behind like the tail of a funny-shaped kite. It tipped down, returning to the earth, dropping over the embankment and into Big Creek.

Hugh dove, bringing Grace to the ground, his body covering hers, just as the sky turned impossibly bright. The boom came later, seeming to go on and on until everything went quiet. The silence felt worse than the earlier cacophony.

Grace opened her eyes, blinking away the splashes of light that popped up, blocking her vision. When it finally cleared, she couldn’t see anything except for Hugh’s shoulder. He was on top of her, his body heavy. He wasn’t moving.

“Hugh?” her voice came out scratchy, and she coughed, trying to clear her throat. It was hard to get enough air in her lungs, and her mouth was still painfully dry. “Hugh?” She tried to roll, to push him off so she could see his face, but his body kept her pinned. “Hugh!”

What if he’s dead? Oh God, what if he sacrificed himself to save me? Her breaths started coming in short pants at the thought of Hugh being gone, of him never teasing her, or laughing, or picking the lock on a bathroom door ever again. She let out a gasping sob.

“I’ve got you, Hugh,” a male voice said, sounding muffled, and the weight on top of her lightened. Strangely, after nearly being crushed by it, she didn’t want it gone. What if that was the last time she could be that close to Hugh? As soon as he was lifted enough that her arms were freed, she tried to push off the ground so she could follow wherever they were taking him.

“Hang on, Grace.” That was a different voice, but it had that same strange, underwater sound to it as the first one did. Gentle but firm hands held her still. “Let’s get you checked out before you move.”

She struggled, but the hands were too strong, or she was too weak. Her ears began to clear, that odd muffled sensation easing, and she started to hear other things, like sirens and people crying and Lexi whining and voices shouting urgently and truck engines and even more sirens.

Grace tried to turn her head to see what was happening, where they were taking Hugh, but those hands held her in place.

“Better not move until they make sure your neck’s okay.” She finally recognized the voice—it was Theo. He crouched behind her, his hands surprisingly gentle as they supported her head, keeping it still. “Should just be a minute.”

“How’s Hugh?” she asked, her voice still coming out rusty, little more than a croak. A flash of stark fear crossed Theo’s face before he blanked his expression.

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” he said.

“He’s not dead?”

He gave her a little smile. Grace was sure it was supposed to be reassuring, but having serious Theo smile at her unnerved her more than if he’d burst into tears. “No. He’s not dead.”

Her body went limp in relief as she closed her eyes. Hugh was hurt, but he wasn’t dead. There was hope.

“Grace?” Theo sounded worried. “You still with me?”

“Yeah.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “Hugh’s alive.”

“Yeah.” This time, when Theo smiled back, it wasn’t scary at all. “Can’t kill that stubborn bastard. Death would get so annoyed with him that he’d get tossed right back into the land of the living.”

“Otto? Lexi?”

“They’re okay. Check out Otto.” His grin was fierce as he helped her roll to her side so she could see without turning her head. Emergency vehicles were scattered around, with more pulling up to the scene. All the flashing lights and sirens were disorientating, especially with the emergency services crews rushing around, adding to the confusion and turmoil.

Otto strode through the chaos, cutting a path as people automatically moved out of his way. When Grace saw the target of his ferocious focus, she sucked in a harsh breath. Phone clutched in his hand, Truman was walking quickly around the perimeter of the crowd toward the parked FBI vehicles.

“It’s okay,” Theo said, sounding darkly satisfied. “Otto’s got this.”

When he spotted Otto heading his way, Truman started to run. He dropped the phone, reaching into his jacket for what Grace feared was a gun. Shifting into a sprint, Otto quickly overtook Truman and grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt. He twisted the gun out of the FBI agent’s hand and tossed it to the side in one smooth motion. Truman’s smug expression changed to shock and then fear—and then Grace couldn’t see his face anymore because it was pressed into the dirt after Otto dropped him to his stomach on the ground.

Pressing a knee into Truman’s back, Otto handcuffed him with jerky motions that showed his anger. Despite how much her body hurt and how worried she was about Hugh, Grace managed a tiny smile. It felt incredibly good to watch the bastard who’d put a hit out on Hugh—and kidnapped her and tried to blow up everyone—get tackled and arrested. Score one for the good guys.

“That’s Truman?” Theo asked. He sounded almost clinical, but his face showed his true rage.

“Yes.” Her voice was still rough and shaky.

“Otto’s a better person than I am. I would’ve hit him at least once.”

“Me too.” All the horror of the past days came rushing back as she stared at the man who’d caused so much of it. “In the junk.”

Theo barked a surprised laugh. “You know, Grace, I didn’t think I’d like you at first, but you’re growing on me.”

Still smiling, she watched as Otto hauled Truman to his feet. The agent’s front was covered in dust, and fury emanated from him, but Otto just dragged the smaller man toward one of the squad cars. “Thanks. You Monroe cops aren’t too bad yourselves.”