“Who was that?” Reese asked, her brow furrowed.
Broyles frowned, his shoulders slumping slightly. “My sponsor.”
“I didn’t know you were in AA,” Reese said, her voice tinged with anger and hurt.
“It’s anonymous for a reason,” Broyles replied, his tone softening as he looked down.
“You should’ve called sooner,” I scolded him, glaring over my shoulder. “Lives are in danger.”
“Are they, though?” he replied doubtfully, crossing his arms. “I’m still not sure I believe you.”
“And yet,” Ezra pointed out, raising an eyebrow, “you called your sponsor.”
Broyles didn’t respond, staring out the window. Had his drinking been the reason he left the military? Was that why he’d come to Garden Cove for a fresh start?
I glanced at Ezra to see if he knew about Broyles’ past with alcohol. He shook his head slightly. The phone call, revealing himself as a recovering alcoholic, had cost Broyles personally.
“Thank you,” I told him, my voice softening. “Thank you for making the call.” It was seven fifty-four now. I could only hope the call hadn’t been made too late.
ChapterTen
By the time we arrived at the church, it was eight-oh-one, according to my car clock. The sun was starting to set, and the old stone church stood eerily against the red sky. Two police cars and an ambulance. Less than twenty civilians were standing around the parking lot, their faces masks of confusion and concern.
“See,” Broyles said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s past your deadline, and no bomb. All you’ve done is invade a lot of privacy.”
The people who attended AA meetings on birthdays knew that families participated in those nights. Anyone wishing to remain anonymous would have avoided the event. However, I didn’t bring this up because Broyles was right about one thing—there hadn’t been a bomb. Had I gotten it wrong again? Had the explosion happened somewhere else and I, worried about my friend, jumped on this lead because it would be too costly to be wrong? Maybe.
As I parked, I scanned the crowd for Pippa and her family, squinting against the flashing lights.
“I see them,” Ezra said, pointing to the right side of the parking lot. “There.”
I noisily let out the breath I’d been holding. When the engine was off, I opened the door and scrambled from the car. “Pippa!” I shouted, waving my arms to get her attention.
A thunderous boom emanated from the building, making the ground tremble. Instinctively, I covered my head and dropped to the ground, my heart pounding. But there was no rain of debris.
“Everyone, get away from the building!” Broyles shouted. A part of me felt vindicated as he stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No one comes within fifty feet of the place until we know there’s not a secondary device.” When the crowd seemed frozen in place, he bellowed, “Move, people! This is not a drill.”
“We’re going to have to call the DHS,” Reese said, her voice calm despite the chaos. “They’ll want to investigate.”
“This isn’t a terrorist,” I said, feeling light-headed with shock.
“Someone put a bomb inside a church full of people,” Reese disagreed. “Regardless of the reason, it’s terrorism.”
I nodded as I searched for Pippa again. She, Jordy, Tippi, and the babies were across the lot, watching the horror unfold with wide eyes.
The front door of the building was open, and a thick cloud of white smoke billowed out into the lot, spreading like an ominous fog.
“That’s smoke,” I said, not caring if I sounded like Captain Obvious.
“No one goes inside,” Ezra ordered, stepping forward authoritatively. “Not until the fire department arrives.”
“What if someone is still inside?” Reese asked, glancing nervously at the smoke.
Broyles spoke up, “Detective Holden’s right. We don’t have respirators or fireproof clothes. It sucks, but we have to wait.”
“Oh, my God!” someone exclaimed, retching. “What’s that smell?”
Within seconds, people who had been frozen in place were now scrambling toward us, covering their faces. A few had yanked their shirts over their noses, their eyes wide with fear.
