Shiver

Or—”
    Shaking his head, he broke in before she could finish. “I’d like to hook up with Sanders if we could. We may need the firepower. But we’re going to get away from here and see what’s what before we decide.” Passing Tyler the crutch to hold, Marco stretched out on his stomach on the shingles and looked over the edge, then a moment later beckoned to Sam to come closer. “When you get through the gate, run around the outside of the fence toward the street behind us. In case somebody’s watching from out front.” The prospect made Sam’s blood run cold. She nodded wordlessly, and he held out his hands to her. Scooting into position, she put her hands into his. “Okay, go.”
    Sam slid over the edge. Briefly she dangled in space, suspended from Marco’s strong hands. When he let go, she dropped the few remaining feet to the ground, landing softly on the balls of her feet. Nobody attacked her. Nothing bad happened. Glancing fearfully all around, she saw nothing beyond the rectangle of fuzzy light thrown by the sliding glass window, and the tree and the basketball goal and the chairs and the grill, along with the ghoulish shadows they cast. Everything lookedabsolutely as it should, everything was absolutely still. And something about that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
    The killer could be anywhere.
    “Mom.”
    Looking up, she caught Tyler as Marco lowered him down to her. He weighed practically nothing at all, and she gave him a quick hug as she set him on the ground. Then she grabbed his hand and together they ran for the gate, staying low, hugging the shadows near the fence as they went. A slight thump made her look back: the crutch lay on the ground. Marco had dropped it. Out of the corner of her eye, as she fumbled with the latch, she watched Marco swing over the side. Landing lightly on his good leg, he hopped once or twice before he got his balance. Then he grabbed his crutch and came after them.
    Finally the latch opened. She and Tyler made it through the gate and around the corner and were running through the even more absolute darkness of the strip of empty land on the other side of the fence when she glanced back to make sure Marco was following.
    He was. Her gaze had just found him, coming around the corner of the fence, moving fast for a man using a crutch, when the town house exploded behind them with a sound like a sonic boom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
     

     
    T he force of the blast slammed Sam face first into the ground. Debris flew past her, pelting the grass around her like some hellish rain. Behind her, the night was suddenly as bright as day as flames engulfed the town house with a roar. The acrid scent of the fire reached her nostrils on a whoosh of blistering air. Stunned, she lay there for a moment, ears ringing, cheek pressed into the thick grass, and then she thought Tyler, and lifted her head.
    He was a few feet in front of her, lying flat in the grass, facedown just like she was. Even as Sam’s heart skipped a beat he rolled into a sitting position and looked back at her, and then past her, at the blazing town house. Blinking dazedly, he watched the conflagration shooting through the roof. The fire painted his small face, and indeed everything around them, a flickering red. Sam looked back, too, and saw Marco sprawled on the ground behind them. He was unmoving; if he were hurt, she couldn’t tell. Beyond him, she watched flames reaching like bright orange fingers toward the sky. The roar of the fire had afierce crackling quality to it now, and she could feel its intense heat.
    If the explosion had occurred only a few minutes earlier, they would have been dead now. The certainty made her insides clench.
    “Tyler, are you hurt?” Her voice was high-pitched, wobbly.
    “No—” He broke off, his head turning sharply to the left. “Mom, look out.” Fear infused his voice.
    In the process of pushing herself into a sitting position, Sam jerked a glance in the direction in which he was looking just in time to see someone racing at her from the shadows. Her heart leaped into her throat. Every instinct she possessed screamed danger.
    “Run, Tyler!” she shrieked, and with her heart in her throat watched him scramble to his feet and bolt even as she shot to her feet and started to run herself. The bear mace in her pocket: remembering it, she grabbed for it, fumbled to pull it out. But the man—it was a man, stocky and strong—caught her too soon, grabbing