The family abandoned the St. Patrick’s Day charades, Maureen hurried out of the kitchen, and Kennedy ran to her.
Purposely retaining his composure, Colin rose. “It’s just a power outage,” he assured all of them.
“But there’s no storm or wind,” Maureen protested, drawing Kennedy close.
“I know.” Colin shrugged offhandedly. “But an electrical wire might have gone down. Or it could be half a dozen other explanations I’m not qualified to make. I’m sure ConEd will fix it and the power will come on soon.”
“I hope so,” Kennedy murmured, her eyes huge. “I hate blackouts.”
Maureen’s arms closed around her great-niece. “I know, lovey. I hate them, too. But the good news is that the whole family is together and we still have some daylight, not to mention lots of flashlights, to help keep the celebration going.”
Kennedy’s eyes teared up. “But we’re not all together. Ryan hasn’t gotten here yet.”
“He’s on his way; I’m sure of it.” Maureen spoke with utter conviction. “He promised he’d be here by dinner. And he will be.”
A knock at the door broke into the conversation.
“Mrs. McKay?” a male voice called. “It’s Agent Winston. Is everything in there all right?”
Garret walked over and opened the door to one of the agents who’d been assigned to safeguard Kennedy. “We’re fine. Thanks for checking.”
“No problem.” On instinct, the agent glanced quickly at Kennedy and, satisfied that she was safe, spoke to the adults in the room. “I’ve called Con Edison. Apparently, a whole section of your neighborhood is affected by this outage. They’re on their way to find out what caused it. Stay calm and this should be cleared up quickly. I’ll remain inside with you, just as a precaution.”
“We’d appreciate that, sir,” Nolan said.
As Special Agent Winston was assuring the McKays of their safety, the final part of the intruders’ plan was unfolding.
The passenger from the idling black sedan pulled on his gloves and slid out of the car, his few supplies packed in a small duffel bag. He slung the bag over his shoulder and, squatting low, he made his way to Maureen’s backyard. There, he cut a hole in the backyard chain-link fence, pulled back the wire, and, gripping his duffel, crawled into the backyard and up toward the back door. He continued to stay down so no one inside—including the FBI agent who’d run in to make sure all was well during the blackout—would see him.
He reached the porch.
There, he worked quickly and silently. He unpacked the contents of his bag, which included a mason jar with homemade napalm in it and a gasoline-soaked rag. He was a pro. He knew that napalm made a great incendiary device because it was like a gel and stuck to the surface it struck.
He yanked a lighter out of his pocket, lit the rag, and stuffed it into the mason jar. He then threw the jar against the house. The jar broke, shattering glass across the porch and all over the back of the house. Both the wood porch and the clapboard siding burst into flames.
Leaving the place in a blaze, he took off before he could be seen. As he ran, once again squatting low, he used his burner phone to call the great-aunt’s cell. Even from outside, he could see mass pandemonium breaking out inside the house.
It took a long time before the woman answered. “Hello?” She sounded quite hysterical, and he could hear the FBI’s voices as they ushered the family out of the house through the front door. “Is this the fire department? Are you on your way?”
“Just a reminder that we can get to the little girl” was all he said before disconnecting the burner and flinging it as far as he could into the woods.
Maureen let out a scream, dropping her cell phone and falling to her knees.
“Come on, ma’am,” SA Winston said, urging her to her feet and leading her outside to the front lawn. “We’ve got to evacuate.” By now, his counterpart had joined him in his task, as had the FI security team, who’d notified the fire department, and the EMTs, and was helping the FBI make sure that no one was severely burned or had endured extreme smoke inhalation.
On the front lawn, Colin reached his wife’s side as sirens of all kinds began to screech toward the house.
“Maureen?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she wept uncontrollably, her hands covering her face, and her whole body shaking. “My God, what is it? Are you hurt?”
“That phone call… Kennedy…” Her head came up and she frantically searched for her great-niece, her eyes closing in relief when she saw that Kennedy was wrapped in Fiona’s arms. Thank God her daughter understood that a conversation was being held that Kennedy should not be exposed to.
“Tell me,” Colin commanded. “Why did you scream like that? Who was on the phone?”
Maureen repeated what the man had said. “I should have known…the fire department wouldn’t have called my cell phone…”
Colin’s jaw tightened so much it looked as if it might snap.
He turned, summoning Agent Winston with a wave of his hand.
