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No phone call had come in.

No new clues had been found.

Not a word from whoever had his little girl.

Son of a bitch, he thought, son of a goddamn bitch!

Standing, he turned away from Shannon’s house and zipped up his surveillance kit.

What good would upsetting this woman’s life do? Just because he was desperate didn’t mean that—

BOOM!

An explosion blasted.

The earth shook.

Glass shattered.

What the hell?

Travis’s head whipped back, his eyes trained on Shannon’s house.

It was intact.

But a building near the cottage, a shed of some kind, was suddenly afire. Flames shot out of the roof, sparks flew high only to rain down on the tinder-dry ground.

Travis started running.

He yanked his cell phone from his pocket.

Dialed 9-1-1 on the fly.

One ring.

“Nine-one-one, what’s the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

BAM!

Another explosion blasted and the roof of the shed blew into a million pieces. Fire leapt to the sky. Darkness scattered in the wake of curling, wild flames crawling toward the heavens.

Dogs howled.

Horses screamed.

“There’s a fire,” Travis yelled into the phone as he ran. “And two explosions at Shannon Flannery’s place.” He rattled off the address he’d memorized less than a week earlier. “Send trucks. Emergency vehicles.” Smoke billowed to the night sky. Flames crackled greedily. Sparks ignited in the dry twigs, leaves and grass.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“Don’t know yet. You got that address?” he yelled.

She repeated it back to him.

“Emergency crews are on their way.”

“Tell them to hurry!” Travis clicked off the phone and using both hands on the top rail, propelled his body onto Shannon’s property and started running again.

BOOM!


Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery