Fireproof

the Mad Hatter.
    Displayed on the credenza were antique surgical instruments. One in particular Maggie recognized as a tool used to perform lobotomies. She knew, because Kernan had brought it to the abnormal psychology class that he taught years ago at the University of Virginia. Maggie had been one of his students. One of thousands, and yet he still remembered exactly where she had sat in his classroom.
    She heard his shuffle down the hall and caught herself sitting up straight in the hardback chair, the only chair, incidentally, that he had in his office for guests or clients. Another sound accompanied Kernan, a click-pat, click-pat-patter on the hallway’s linoleum floor.
    “O’Dell, O’Dell, the farmer and the dell.” He began his ridiculous chants before he entered the room.
    Maggie’s back was to the door. She tried to stay quiet, tried to shrug off what sounded like the rants of a senile old man. He played word games, using silly rhymes to throw off his students and now his patients. He’d probably been doing it for more years than Maggie was old. It broke down anyone’s focus, little by little, and dismantled his opponent’s thought process, putting them on guard for the next slew of unpredictable phrases instead ofthinking about a response to a question he lobbed into the fray. It wouldn’t work with her this time. She was prepared for his mental duels.
    It was the dog that surprised Maggie, coming in first. A small brown-and-white corgi who touched his muzzle to her hand as if to warn her of his master’s entrance.
    Directly behind, connected by a leash, Kernan shuffled past her, his short frame a bit more hunched, his thick hair completely white, his suit wrinkled, and his thick, black-framed glasses at the end of his nose. He didn’t even glance at her and continued to his chair back behind the desk.
    The corgi settled in a corner before Kernan sat down.
    “So O’Dell, Margaret,” he said, his back still to her as he eased into his high-backed leather chair. “Premed. The little bird who sat in the back left corner of my classroom taking very few notes. Miss FBI Agent with yet another scar to heal.”
    Maggie gripped the seat of her wooden chair. There was nothing to dig her nails into.
    The bastard .
    She wouldn’t let him get to her. Bring it on .
    “I thought I already fixed you once,” he said as he turned to face her.
    Even through the thick lenses she could see his eyes roam well over her head. She glanced at the dog and back at Kernan. The watery blue eyes weren’t focused on her face and tracked just a bit to the right of her.
    Maggie couldn’t believe it. The old man had actually gone blind.

CHAPTER 48

    Sam felt relieved, even though Jeffery was in a foul mood. It had turned black—directly to black, no gray—as soon as they brought the last person out. Alive!
    Seven survivors. No dead bodies.
    Jeffery’s immediate response: “What a fucking waste of a day.”
    Sam realized she was probably just as bad as Jeffery, because her relief didn’t come from the news that everyone had escaped safely, but rather because Jeffery wouldn’t be using any of her footage. Especially not the footage she had purposely messed up of Jeffery’s exchanges with Patrick and Agent O’Dell.
    “Big Mac will cut this entire afternoon to a couple of minutes,” Jeffery huffed as he yanked his tie loose and almost snapped off the top button of his shirt. “He’s already said, ‘No dead bodies, no story.’ Doesn’t even matter that it’s churches. Or that you’d need a chemistry course to time these sons of bitches.”
    “Are you sure he’s not interested? Two churches in the middle of the day? And in Arlington? It’s not like the warehouses in a homeless district that nobody cares about.”
    She stopped herself as she broke down her equipment. Did shereally just say that? Jesus! She really was starting to sound like Jeffery.
    “I talked to him earlier. Said he needed something to keep this story alive.”
    Jeffery stood watching her. Usually he’d leave her to do this by herself, but he needed a ride back to the diner where he’d left his car.
    “He loved the crap out of my profile on O’Dell,” Jeffery said. “Wait till he sees the interview with the mother.”
    Sam felt a momentary twitch. Would he be wanting the nonexistent footage after all? She hadn’t known about the interview. Jeffery had invited O’Dell’s mother to come down to the news station, so he hadn’t