The whoop-whoop of a siren startled them apart, momentarily concerned the ambulance they’d fallen against was about to move, but then lights from another approaching firetruck cut across the shadows.
Chest heaving, catching his breath, Nic fell back against the side of the ambulance next to Cam. “That’s what I wanted to do the second I heard your voice on the radio. And I was fucking across town.”
Cam lolled his head to the side, eyes heavy-lidded as he reached for Nic’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “I’m fine, baby.”
“Barely.” He rotated onto his shoulder, angling toward Cam, needing to stay close. “And I was no safer in the van.”
“Jamie got you out of the blast radius.”
“But we couldn’t catch the car.”
“Ditto on the car at Matt’s scene,” Cam said. “At least the shot to Murphy wasn’t fatal.”
“Warning shot.” Nic surveyed the smoldering building again. With multiple FBI and BPD teams involved, EMS had been on alert and had converged quickly. They hadn’t lost any personnel and enough of the metal garage structure had survived so that crime scene techs were scouring the scene. “Anything salvageable?”
Cam’s hand spasmed in his and the tortured expression that crossed his face made Nic want to pull him back into his arms.
“What is it?” he asked.
Cam let go of his hand, and Nic instantly felt the chilly loss. “Follow me.” The chill continued to creep through his veins as they tiptoed over soot-covered rubble to an open hatch door in the back corner of the structure. “We got the fire contained before it made it downstairs,” Cam said. “This was what they were trying to destroy.”
In the basement, halogen work lamps aided crime scene techs who were busy processing a workbench full of homemade explosives materials. Mingled in were burner phones and, Nic stopped to look, sheets of paper with BPD district phone numbers, addresses, and schedules.
“Price,” Cam called. He stood at the end of the hallway, holding open the door to another room. Nic didn’t want to go in there. A tremor ran up his spine and foreboding settled in every cell of his body. Nothing good awaited there.
His instincts proved correct.
It was the room from the ransom video, and with the bright lights shining, Nic realized how small it really was. And how covered it was in blood. The mattress, the floor, the cuffs that had held Shannon Murphy.
And God knew who else.
“Someone was definitely held captive here.”
“Maybe multiple someones,” Cam replied.
Maybe also Erin he didn’t say, but Nic heard it all the same.
“The techs will take samples and tell us.” Nic stepped closer, shoulders brushing, and spoke low, comfort for Cam’s ears only. “We don’t know what they’re going to find, Boston.”
“No, we don’t,” he croaked. “But we have to find Shannon fast.”
“No argument there.”
Before either of them could posit next steps, Cam’s phone rang, the “Sweet Caroline” ringtone sending another tremor up Nic’s spine.
A family member was calling at two in the morning. Cam brought the phone to his ear, listening, and his face blanched ghostly white. The news couldn’t be good.
“I’ll be right there.” Cam hung up the phone, moving stiffly, slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.
Nothing good. “What is it, Boston?”
Cam’s dark eyes were twin pits of misery. “Mom’s had a stroke.”
Cam had never been so grateful for Jamie’s driving skills as he had been today. First, getting the van out of the blast radius, then getting him to Tufts Medical faster than humanly possible. At the hospital, he drove up to the drop-off curb and parked in the 24 Hour Reserved for Security space. “I think we qualify,” Jamie said.
“Works for me,” Nic agreed.
Cam didn’t argue. He was out the door the next beat, Nic and Jamie on his heels.
