“Copy, Command. Holding.”
“We need a bomb disposal unit,” Wyatt said.
Galvez looked at him. “Already requested. ETA two hours minimum. They’re coming from Charlottesville.”
Two hours.
Wyatt looked at the orange glow still visible above the trees. The fire burned steadily now, fed by the dry timber of a decades-old building in frozen winter air. The snowpack would keep it from spreading to the surrounding forest.
At least there was that.
Graham stepped closer to him and lowered his voice. “This was on purpose, meant to cause injuries.”
“If they wired one section, they most likely wired other areas.”
Graham’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted behind it. “The entire compound was probably rigged to go.”
Wyatt glanced at the tree line. “It was deliberate. They wanted anyone who came after them to know exactly what kind of people they were dealing with.”
Graham rubbed his jaw slowly. “I think that’s clear.”
“Until the disposal unit clears the area, we can’t do anything.” Wyatt looked at the map on the table. “That means we’ll get nothing from that compound tonight. No forensics. No evidence. No indication of where they went.”
In other words, this was another setback—which was the last thing they needed.
