Split Second

CHAPTER 72

Tully’s leg hurt like hell. Most of the flames were out. He sat a safe distance away, but the heat actually felt good. Someone had thrown a blanket around his shoulders. He didn’t remember it happening. He also didn’t remember that it was raining until he discovered his clothing wet and his hair plastered to his forehead. Somehow Agent Alvando had managed to get the ambulance past the electronic gate and all the way to the burning house.

“Your ride is here.” Agent O’Dell appeared from behind him.

“Let them take the McGowan woman first. I can wait.”

She studied him as if she would be the judge of whether he waited or not.

“Are you sure? They might be able to fit both of you.”

He looked past O’Dell to examine Tess McGowan himself. She was sitting in one of the SWAT team’s trucks. From what he could see of her, she looked to be in bad shape. Her hair was tangled and wild like Medusa. Her body, now wrapped in a blanket, had been covered with bloody cuts and bruises. She could barely stand. Alvando’s men had found her locked in a wooden shack not far from the house. She had been shackled to a cot, gagged and naked. She had told them that the madman had left only seconds before they found her.

“I’m not bleeding anymore,” Tully said. “She’s been through God knows what. Get her out of here and into a nice warm bed somewhere.”

O’Dell turned and caught one of the men’s attention, then waved to him. He seemed to know exactly what she meant and went directly to the truck to escort Ms. McGowan to the ambulance.

“Besides,” Tully said, “I want to be here when they bring them out.”

The men had found a fire hydrant in back, probably a leftover from when the property had been occupied by the government. They were dousing the entire house with thick streams of water that were much more efficient than the light rainfall. Firefighters from some neighboring community had stomped their way to the scene about an hour ago, but only after their truck had gotten stuck in the mud about a mile from the entrance. Now they ventured into the burned-out hull of the house as though on a mission. They had discovered two dead and burned bodies in the basement bunker.

Tully rubbed the soot from his face and eyes. O’Dell sat down on the ground next to him. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on the tops of her knees.

“We don’t know for sure that it’s them,” she said without looking at him.

“No, but who else would it be?”

“Stucky doesn’t seem like the suicidal type.”

“He may have thought the bunker was fireproof.”

She glanced over at him, not moving from her position. “I never thought of that.” She looked almost convinced. Almost.

The firefighters came out of the wreckage, hauling a body on a gurney. It was draped with a black canvas. Two more followed with another gurney. O’Dell sat up straight. Tully heard her suck in air, and he thought she was holding her breath as she watched. The second gurney approached the FBI’s truck, when suddenly the dead man’s arm slipped out from under the canvas. The arm slipped off the gurney, hanging down, clothed in what looked like a leather jacket. He felt O’Dell stiffen. Then finally, he heard her breathe a deep sigh of relief.