Shattered (LOST #3)(43)

Molly wasn’t on the ground anymore. She was standing up, and she had a broken chunk of the chair in her hand. “Yeah . . . I did.” She swung that wood at him.

The little bitch.

IT SOUNDED LIKE thunder. A deep, horrible rumble of thunder that made the ground shake. Sarah froze at the sound but Detective West whirled toward her. “What the hell is that?”

Jax had his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I can smell smoke,” he said.

So could Sarah.

They ran back out and Sarah saw the fire, coming from Warehouse 508. There were shouts and screams and—fire.

“He set another one to blow,” Jax said.

Sarah’s gaze darted at the row of buildings, now looking even more like cemetery headstones to her as she stared at them. “Call your men back,” she ordered the detective. “He’s got the buildings rigged!” Some of them? All of them? Sarah didn’t know. They needed the bomb squad in there before they could search.

And that means Molly loses time. He did this . . . to stop us. So he could finish with her and escape.

Or maybe the guy had thought Sarah would be the one racing in first. And he’d done this because he just wanted to hurt her.

Fire . . . it’s about fire to him.

But as far as Sarah knew, her father had never used fire on any of his victims. He’d preferred the intimate touch of a knife.

A man was burning. A cop who’d just come out of the blazing warehouse. Jax ran to the guy, tackled him, and they rolled, tumbling around until those flames were out.

Sarah couldn’t see Gabe or Dean or Emma. The smoke was getting too thick. Detective West was on his radio, ordering everyone to fall back. Sarah pulled her out phone and called Gabe. Answer, answer . . .

Hell, now she knew exactly how Jax had felt when he’d been trying to get her at the earlier scene.

“Sarah? What’s happening? The cops—”

“He’s got more explosives set. Stay back!” Sarah said.

Another cop had just run from the burning warehouse. He was staggering when he burst out of that smoke-filled interior.

Sarah spun around. Her heart was racing as chaos erupted. Molly was so close. Sarah knew she was close.

And if we wait for the bomb squad to come, Molly’s dead.

HE GRABBED THE wood—looked like the arm of a chair—in his right hand. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

He yanked that wood away from Molly. She’d lost so much blood . . . she was no match for him.

“I think . . . you’re the devil,” Molly whispered. Then she opened her mouth and screamed. Loud and long and—

“I’m still alive!”

She wasn’t begging for death. She should have begged. Now he’d make sure she suffered every single moment that she had left.

He drove the knife into her side.

“Not for long, you aren’t,” he promised her.

“I’M STILL ALIVE!”

That scream had been so terrifyingly close. Detective West was helping the wounded officers and Jax was pulling a man from the smoky building.

They hadn’t even heard the scream. Sarah had been the only one to hear Molly.

It’s a trap. She knew it. It had to be a trap but . . .

If I leave her now, she’s dead.

Sarah took a tentative step toward that building on the left—the old clothing warehouse. When she got inside, it could explode on her, too.

No, sweetheart. No one is screaming. No one at all. Her father’s voice seemed to creep through her mind.

“Molly is screaming,” Sarah said. “I hear her.” Then she took a deep breath and she ran toward that second building. Ran as fast as she could.

Because if the killer is inside, he won’t have set the bombs to kill himself. It will be safe. It will be safe . . .

Maybe.

JAX HAD NEVER thought he’d see the day when he was saving a cop’s life. Not just one cop, two. “Remember this shit,” he muttered to the guy he’d just dragged out of the fire. “You owe me.”

Then Jax looked up, searching for Sarah. He wanted to get her back in case those flames spread. But she wasn’t standing near the dock. His heart slammed against his chest as he rushed forward. “Sarah?”

He turned to the left. Only saw cops scrambling.

To the right.

He saw Detective Brent West. That dick Cross had joined the guy. They had a uniformed cop between them, and they were helping the guy get clear of Warehouse 508.

Jax ran to them. “Where’s Sarah?”

Brent blinked at him. “With . . . you?”

Would he be asking the damn question if she was with him?

“Where did you see her last?” Jax demanded.

But Brent just looked confused. “She was behind me . . . I think . . . but then I went to help the men out of that fire . . .”

Jax had gone into the blaze, too. Was that where Sarah was? He hoped to hell not. The place had been an inferno moments before, seemingly seconds away from the whole building collapsing. But if Sarah was in there . . .

He rushed back toward the fire.

Then . . . stopped.

Fuck. Slow down . . . think. He yanked out his phone, but the thing had melted. He dropped it, swearing when it singed his fingers. He’d gone into the fire before. He hadn’t seen Sarah in there. He and Brent had been helping the cops.