What I've Done (Morgan Dane #4)(90)

Sharp jogged down the stairs and crossed the wood floor to the basement door. A light was on. Bending forward, he peered down the steps. He could just see the legs of Haley’s easel and her bare feet standing in front of it. A deep breath eased the tension inside him. She was safe.

“What’s wrong?” Eric walked into the room from the front of the house.

“Haley is in the basement.”

Eric frowned. “I didn’t see her go down there.”

Sharp explained about the voice coming out of the game console. “It must have frightened her.”

Frowning, Eric said, “The easiest way to get into the device would have been to hack the router.”

Had a terrified Haley run from the voice?

“I’ll get her.” Sharp turned to the basement and called softly, “Haley?”

She didn’t respond. He went down two steps and bent to watch her. She was dabbing gobs of red paint onto the canvas, but her eyes were unfocused, and she didn’t respond to his call. The basement was cold and damp, and Haley was barefoot. Her feet had to be freezing. Sharp stared as red paint dripped from her brush and onto the floor and her feet. She had no idea what was happening around her. “I think she’s sleepwalking.”

“Probably from the meds.” Eric nodded from the top of the steps.

“I’ll try to get her back to bed.” Sharp turned toward the basement. “Can you determine if they hacked the game console or the router? We need to shut that down ASAP.”

He and Eric shared a look. Was someone listening in on them now? How many devices could be compromised?

“I’ll take care of it.” Eric turned away.

But before he could walk ten feet, an explosion rocked the kitchen. The force picked up Eric and flung him into the wall. The blast hit Sharp like an 18-wheeler. The impact hurled his body backward. The stairwell disintegrated beneath him. Arms pinwheeling, he plunged downward, landing on the concrete with a blinding rush of pain.

Debris rained down on top of his stunned body.

Blackness encroached at the edges of his vision. His ears rang, and sound was muffled. His last thought before the pain and darkness consumed him was that he couldn’t save Haley after all.

I’m sorry, Ted.





Chapter Forty

“No.” Lance braked at the base of Eliza’s driveway. His heart stuttered. The house above was engulfed in flames, and at least four people were inside—including Sharp. But there would be no one to open the gate. “Hold on tight.”

Next to him, Morgan grabbed the armrest.

He put the car in reverse and backed up as far as he could. Then he shifted into drive and punched the gas pedal to the floor. The Town Car crashed through the metal gates and bounced up the driveway. He stopped next to Sharp’s Prius.

Lance shoved the gearshift into park and jumped out of the car. Morgan was on her phone calling for help.

The alarm system would have summoned the fire department, but the rigs wouldn’t get all the way out to Eliza’s house that quickly. Unlike Lance’s house, which had been just blocks from the station, Eliza’s house was remote. It could burn to the ground long before help arrived.

“Just making sure.” She lowered her phone.

Lance ran toward the front of the house. He pulled on the door handle, but the door was locked. “We’ll need to break a window.”

He backed up and scanned the ground for a rock. Flames raced up the kitchen side of the house, the fire rapidly eating its way across the roofline. A car roared up the driveway.

Esposito climbed out, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw the fire from my house down the road.”

Lance went back to the Town Car and pulled a heavy metal flashlight from the glove compartment. He raced to the front of the house and swung it at the window. The glass cracked. He hit the window again, smashing through the panes, then used the flashlight to clear the larger shards around the window frame.

“How many people are inside?” Esposito yelled above the roar of the fire.

“At least four,” Lance shouted back as he climbed through the broken window.

Esposito was right behind him. Smoke and heat filled the house. Lance couldn’t see more than a foot in front of his face. He pulled his jacket collar over his mouth and nose. He felt Esposito’s hand grip his shoulder. They shuffled down the hallway toward the back of the house.

Lance’s boot tripped over something. He stopped and reached down. His eyes watered, further blinding him. He groped at the body. Too small to be Sharp.

Eliza.

He shook Esposito, gestured to Eliza, and shouted, “Take her outside.”

Esposito stooped and picked her up. Lance continued down the hall, crouching to get below the worst of the smoke. In the entrance to the kitchen, he found the bodyguard.

Lance wanted to keep looking. Haley and Sharp were still inside, but he had to get Eric outside first. He dragged the big man by the armpits down the hallway and out the front door. Behind him, the fire crackled, the smoke thickened, and the heat intensified as he stumbled through the opening and into the cool night air.

Esposito rushed to Lance and grabbed Eric’s feet. Together, they carried the bodyguard across the grass to a safe spot away from the house.

Eliza was on her hands and knees, coughing and choking, definitely alive. Morgan rolled the bodyguard to his back.