“Where was that again?”
“Tanner. You want me to take you to a hotel?”
It’s obvious Dash doesn’t know how to take this all in. He’s slowly swelling from Rory’s punches and looking more miserable by the second. He shakes his head. “No, that’s okay.”
I cup his face as the area we are in fills with onlookers. In my peripheral vision I catch a glimpse of the hazmat guys circling around the back of the car. “I love you, Dash. And I am so glad you came along when you did. I honestly didn’t know what to say or do when I figured it out. I never would have suspected Rory. I was having a heart attack. You saved me.”
He gets a big cheesy grin, but it doesn’t last long. “Holy shit!” He grabs me and runs, dragging me along.
I don’t have a chance to look back and see what it is. I’m thrown to the ground as the sound of a large explosion fills the air. From the ground I can see people rolling and falling, tripping and shoving as they scream with their mouths open wide. My ears ring so I can’t hear the sounds well, but from what I can see all the people within two blocks are on the ground, in obvious pain and shock.
Around us buildings shake, and windows break and drop onto the sidewalk.
When I look back at the source of our situation, I can tell the car was clearly the bomb.
Thankfully we are all far enough away that no one seems to be in grave condition, but there’s something about the white smoke billowing from the trunk that makes my skin crawl. “We need to keep running.” I nod at the smoke filling the air.
Dash barely hears me in the screaming around us. I climb off him, knowing his instinct is going to be to help, and grab his hand. Without giving it another thought, I pull him to a safe distance, watching as the smoke seems to thicken, like a chemical reaction and not smoke from a bomb. I have a terrible feeling about what it might be.
I drag Dash a little farther as the police try to move everyone even farther back. There are no horribly wounded people because we cordoned off a large area, but everyone is shaken up. Car alarms up and down the block are filling the air with even more noise than the screaming people. But I ignore it all and continue to push Dash back. “That’s possibly anhydrous ammonia.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “What? Why—?” He shakes his head slowly. “Never mind. I suppose I know why.”
I nod, gripping his hand and attempting to drag him away from it all, as I send Antoine a text telling him to call the City of Seattle about the cloud of gas that could kill if it is inhaled. He makes a weird face that suggests he might be throwing up.
“You aren’t going to warn these people about the danger?” Dash asks, still holding me in one spot.
I shake my head. “We are running short on time. You think this is the only thing he has planned? He could be, and probably is, doing something far worse, and this is just a diversion.”
“You have to think of the people. I legally have to think of the people. I’m a doctor.”
“Fine, let’s incite a little panic.” I sigh and walk back toward it all, waving my hands and screaming like a maniac about the danger in front of us as everyone runs screaming away from it.
A policeman comes rushing over. “What is it?”
“Poisonous gas, likely the kind you drop dead from the moment you breathe it in. We need to evac the area and keep everyone away from this block. Empty the houses, all of it.”
His eyes widen. “Jesus H. Christ, what in the hell?”
“He was a maniacal bastard, what can I say?” I turn and pull Dash along, hailing a cab when we get back to the main road. “Happy?”
He nods, but he doesn’t look happy.
19. Along came a spider
The house makes me tingle, but I make myself go inside it. I force the steps I don’t want to take. Two FBI agents are with me. One is named Henrico, and the other is Stanley. They both look like they might toss up their lunches onto the floor at any moment. Neither handled the cells well.
No matter how hard I search the house and the rooms, I cannot find a single thing to link the old man to the thoughts I’m having, the suspicions I need confirmed.
“What are the odds we will catch him?”
“Who?”
“Guthrie, of course.”
I shake my head. “Not great. He’s very good at blending in and even better at fighting his way out.” I walk the halls of the gutted cabin. Not a single wall has gone without a piece of drywall being cut away or smashed in. Like a teenagers’ party has ruined an upper-class home.
I shake my head, crouching down and looking up at the hill. It hits me then. “Ski lodge?” Esther had mentioned a backcountry ski lodge.