Fireproof

that smell?
    “They’ll think you were lovers. That you were both targeted. Especially since his house is on fire, too. Poor Patrick Murphy. Even his famous FBI sister couldn’t save him.”
    Through a blur she watched Jeffery pour the liquid on the tray of purple crystals. The trail of smoke was so pretty.
    She didn’t even hear him leave. Sam had no idea how much time had passed when she saw the white flash of light. The tray sparked and in seconds the stack of newspapers underneath became engulfed in flames.
    Whatever drug Jeffery had used, it relieved her of panic. It weighed her down, glued her to the floor. Her vision was blurred, her mind a pleasant haze, almost as if she were dreaming. She simply watched the red and yellow dance up the walls. Even the heat from the flames soothed her, like a warm breeze on a cool day.
    Sam closed her eyes. Listened to the crackling and swoosh filling her ears. And she thought about Iggy in those silly red suspenders.

CHAPTER 74

    Maggie hardly noticed her headache. The rest of her body felt completely drained of energy. So deep was the exhaustion that she drove home with the windows rolled down, hoping the cold night air would keep her awake.
    Seeing Dr. Kernan had certainly put things in perspective. The curmudgeon had actually been sweet and gentle with her. He had heard that a Kathleen O’Dell had been admitted and checked to find out if she was Maggie’s mother.
    “I practically live here, so if you need anything, you let me know.”
    He didn’t need to explain why he rarely went home. Two months ago his wife of forty-seven years had gone into a medically induced coma. Maggie hadn’t asked any questions and he wasn’t ready to share more details.
    This was one of those times when nothing made sense in the world and she was too exhausted to do anything about it. Racine had left an hour ago, after getting some information on Wes Harper. Tully had called to see how Maggie was doing and to tell her Ganza and his crew had left State Patrol officers to guard thesite until morning. There was too much to process to do it in the middle of the night.
    All Maggie wanted right now was to go home. Patrick had offered to wait up and she ordered him to bed, promising she’d let him know if she needed anything. And she had finally called Ben. They talked for thirty minutes about how much James Kernan reminded her of Spencer Tracy and then went back and forth with lines from Tracy and Hepburn movies. To others it would be nonsensical and trivial, but it was exactly what she had needed.
    In her frenzy to get to the hospital she had parked in the facility’s garage without paying attention to the level, let alone what corner, she had left her Jeep. Now she wandered the cold concrete building, which was quiet as a tomb. She thought she remembered being on Level 2, but after a walk clear around the dimly lit area she knew she had to be mistaken. She took the ramp up to Level 3. More cars here and yet she couldn’t find hers. Again, complete silence at this time of night. Not even a car door slamming or an elevator binging.
    Maybe it was the opposite corner. She turned to circle back and caught a shadow disappearing between cars. Her hand immediately dug into her jacket as she sidestepped and then backed against a wall.
    Her pulse raced as she listened. Somewhere above she could hear a faint sound of an engine starting. She stayed close to the wall and started slowly toward the area where she had seen the shadow. She weaved around car bumpers and almost stepped on a discarded fast-food bag. She didn’t let her eyes leave that area even as she let them dart around.
    There was no one there. Only a doorway, an exit to the stairwell.Could someone have escaped without her hearing the whoosh of the door? Maybe she had imagined the shadow.
    She continued to the next level, her fingers on the butt of her revolver. By the time she found her Jeep and locked herself inside she was convinced that exhaustion was simply playing havoc with her. She tried to calm herself. Turned on some music and eased her vehicle into the flow of interstate traffic.
    When she heard the first siren, she pulled to the side of the road and waited for it to wail past her. The closer she got to home the more sirens she heard, and her insides clenched. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. With the windows down she thought she could smell smoke. More flashing lights behind her. She jerked the car to the side just in