Night Moves. HelenKay Dimon
Nothing separated it from the hall now. The wall between Dr. Hammer’s office and hers had collapsed, leaving a blown-out opening. Fire danced in every inch of her room as bright orange flames raced up her walls, swallowing her framed degrees and bookshelves in one hot gulp.
If she had been where she was supposed to be, she’d be dead. Snooping had saved her.
Ceiling tiles fell from above her head, barely missing her. The walls were buckling. The thundering mix of fire and falling debris filled her ears. The taste of soot lingered on her tongue. There would be nothing left soon, including her, if she didn’t jump through the window. The glass had shattered leaving ragged edges. Using her elbow, she cleared a path and wiggled out the small opening. A final pop propelled her outside, throwing her through the air until she landed hard on her right side on the grassy area outside.
Pain crushed in on her from every angle as she rolled as far away from the burning structure as possible. She hurt everywhere. Her mind reeled and fingers burned. When she looked down, she saw the death grip she had on some of those files. Through all the shock and the explosions, she had held on. The realization sent a wave of relief through her. She didn’t know where the papers fit together with the explosions, but she sensed on some level they did.
She dropped her head back and tried to gather the energy to get up. Smoke spiraled into the dark sky. Alarms hadn’t sounded, but she held out hope someone had heard the crashing booms that even now continued to sound, or saw the flames licking against the cloudless night.
Their building sat at the end of a long private drive in McLean, Virginia. The secluded setting ensured security, or that was the theory. Now the isolation worked against her, guaranteeing that precious data she needed would be lost before the fire department got word and came screaming to the scene.
When she lifted her head again and glanced around, she could make out the outline of a large SUV near the entrance to the building. It was a car that hadn’t been there when she checked in earlier. A second later, three people piled out of the front door in a rush. The bright lights of the outside parking area let her see what was happening. She recognized the straight-backed and serious steps of Dr. Hammer. He wasn’t injured. If anything, he maintained his usual even pace while the men around him tried to hustle him.
Before she could call out his name, one of the other men opened the back door of the vehicle and signaled for Dr. Hammer to get in. With one last long look at the Institute, he slipped in and closed the door. The SUV took off, leaving her alone and the disaster behind.
Maura tried to put the bits she knew together in a reasonable story, but the last hour didn’t make any sense. Dr. Hammer’s precious work was vanishing in front of him and he didn’t show any more concern than he did on a normal day when he left the office. More important, he didn’t seem to notice her car was in the parking lot while the building was on fire. Either he didn’t care that she could be injured or dead or worse, he wanted her to be.
She couldn’t figure out why, but she knew everything had gone wrong. This was more than a problem with the interim report. This went deeper. The fire and the false data were connected somehow. Had to be.
Anxiety flooded through her, making every cell in her body quake and tremble. She didn’t know who to trust or where to go.
No, that wasn’t true. She knew exactly where to go and who could help her untangle the mess.
Ignoring the pain in her shoulder and aches everywhere else, she rolled to her knees. She had to get up and go to Liam. She’d run away from him for years, but now she needed him. Liam would know what to do.
The plan set, she shot up too fast. Dizziness slammed through her the second her feet hit the ground. The move sent her back to her knees. She tried to gulp in air, but it was too late. The shot of adrenaline that guided her through the last few minutes had worn off, leaving behind a blinding headache and exhaustion she couldn’t shake.
When her elbows gave out, she fell back to the ground and stayed there, staring up into the black night. Yes, Liam would help. She repeated that mantra until she convinced herself it was true. Now she had to convince him.
Liam Anderson had been to more memorial services than he could count. A devastated family, shocked loved ones. He knew the drill and always steeled himself against getting sucked into the sad aftermath of someone else’s violent end. But the last twenty hours had been different.
This wasn’t about paying his respects to a victim’s family in a case. This was about getting through those initial horrible hours after the bad news came. This was for Maura, his best friend’s sister.
Twenty-four and dead. It didn’t seem possible. Sitting there and watching Dan descend into madness made it real for Liam. His friend had spent almost every hour in a drunken haze since getting the unbelievable news. Dan only sobered up this afternoon when the police showed up a second time, changed tactics and started asking questions about Maura’s background. They danced around the accusations but it was clear they believed she had something to do with the explosion.
Liam provided support and an ear. Even got pissed off on Maura’s behalf at the accusations. Keeping Dan from crawling all over the cops proved harder. Liam left only after Dan had settled down, but planned to return to Dan’s house after a shower and change of clothes. Keeping Dan sane was the only way Liam knew to beat back his own feelings.
Maura had run from him and now she was gone forever. He would never have a chance to apologize and make things right for what happened nine years earlier. Never get to know the woman she’d become. He’d be stuck with only the memories of a brokenhearted girl.
He shook his head as he slammed his car door. What a waste.
Within two steps, Liam realized something was off at his house. He was a security expert, after all. It was his business to notice things, to sense danger, analyze it and diffuse it. His gaze swept over the front lawn and up the porch to his door. He visually checked his alarm and the other traps he set around the entrance every time he went out, but nothing seemed obviously out of place there.
Still, the prickling sensation didn’t ease. He’d learned long ago to pay attention when a sharp pain whacked him between the shoulder blades. He failed to listen exactly one time in his professional life and had the scar on his leg to prove it. He intended to heed the warning this time.
Unfortunately, his weapons all sat securely inside. He’d never imagined he’d need a gun today. Violence should take one day off.
He scanned the area again, looking for any change no matter how small. The gate to the side yard on the right of his place caught his attention. Every time he closed it, he pulled it tight enough for the gate to swing inside the yard slightly. The gate hung even with the fence now. That meant someone had used the walkway to get to his backyard, outside of the view of the street.
Smart, but not smart enough.
The fact the alarm had not been tripped made him think the burglar never made it inside the house. Liam hoped like hell the guy was still around. It would feel good to pound someone right about now, to work out all of his aggression and anger at Maura’s loss.
Liam knew he had surprise on his side. His dark jeans would provide some camouflage but the white oxford would give his position away. The important thing was he had the freedom of movement he needed to get the jump on whoever wanted inside his house.
If he disengaged the alarm it would beep, so he decided to go with the soundless option: circle around the left side and hunt this guy down from the outside. No need to dissect the plan. He got moving.
He lifted the latch and stalked along the side of the house, careful not to tip off anyone to his location. His feet fell quiet against the soft grass as he inched along the red-brick wall. When he reached the corner, he peeked around to the patio and saw a figure slumped in one of his deck chairs. All he could make out were slats of wood and a mop of brown