I put a hand up to cover my mouth as the most unnatural sound reverberated from inside the house right before a giant ball of flame came shooting out, and windows and sections of the roof literally blew up in a huge, deafening explosion that cracked the glass on the driver’s side doors of Faraday’s car. Officers and agents threw themselves to the ground, and I dove down onto the seat, too. Bits of debris pummeled the roof of the car. and I shrieked at every thump. Shouts from the radio were drowned out for only a second or two before picking up again, this time at double the intensity. I found the courage to lift my head and peek over the rim of the door out the window, and the scene was chaotic. The house was fully engulfed in flames, and one of the patrol cars was on fire. All around, agents and officers were scrambling to help one another get away from the house. People in neighboring houses began running out of their homes to see what was going on, and those agents and officers on scene tried in vain to wave them to get back inside.
I waited and watched, unable to believe my own eyes and fearing the worst for Agent Faraday. Had he been at the back of the house when it exploded? If he had, he was probably dead. Without taking my eyes off the scene, I felt around for the photo of Faraday and Wallace. That’d let me know if both men were still alive, but it wasn’t next to me or under me. It must’ve gotten tossed on the floor when I dove for cover.
And then, as if a prayer had been answered, Faraday appeared with singed shirt, carrying Wallace with two other agents. I saw a lot of red on Wallace’s chest, and I grabbed the photo, which had, in fact, fallen to the floor. Pulling it up, I realized that his numbers were still flickering back and forth—but 2051 was now getting more play. He was still alive, and I thought he’d make it if they could only get him to the hospital in time.
As if on cue, an ambulance pulled up and Faraday shouted to the two men helping him—who were also a little singed—to move toward it. Two paramedics jumped out, and within seconds they had Wallace on a gurney and were putting him into the ambulance bay.
More sirens sounded in the distance and I knew that the fire trucks were on their way.
The moment the ambulance took off, Faraday limped his way over to me and pulled open the door. “What’s the picture say?” he demanded, his face, clothing, and hair smudged with soot.
“I think you got to him in time. His numbers are still flickering, but the twenty fifty-one date is a little stronger now.”
Faraday jumped in the car, and without another word he put it into gear and headed off in the direction of the ambulance.
I peered behind me. “Should we really be leaving?”
“They can handle that mess for now,” Faraday said, pressing his foot to the accelerator.
When we reached the hospital, Faraday’s phone was going off repeatedly. He ignored it. After parking in an illegal zone, he flashed his badge to a hospital worker, who looked like she might protest, and pulled me over to the ambulance, which was parked with the back doors flung open. Faraday went right over to the gurney where Wallace was being unloaded, and ran alongside it when he was wheeled inside. “Kevin!” he yelled. “Buddy, you gotta fight! You hear me? You gotta fight and stay with us!”
I hurried along behind the gurney but was soon crowded out by emergency room staff. Faraday was finally tugged away by a woman in scrubs who grabbed him by the elbow and tried to get a look at a bad cut on his arm. “It’s fine,” he said moodily, trying to shake her off.
She lifted up his elbow. “You need to let them work on your friend without you in the way. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, you also need stitches.” She tugged him back down the hall toward me. “Don’t make me sedate you!” she snapped when he resisted.
I had to work to suppress a smile. Faraday caught my eye and motioned to me with his chin. I followed him and the nurse to a curtained area. The minute he was seated on the gurney he said, “He’ll need blood. I’m O negative; I can donate to anybody. Hook me up and let me help him.”
The nurse scowled. “Oh, you FBI boys sure know how to give orders, don’t you?”
Faraday was looking around wildly. I knew he was worried about Wallace. I lifted the photo, which I’d brought with me, and peered at it. “What’s it say?” I heard him ask me.
Wallace’s numbers were flashing less and less frequently and settling for longer and longer periods on 8-7-2051. “He’s doing better,” I said. Lifting my gaze, I saw the nurse eye me curiously—but she continued scrubbing Faraday’s arm and prepping it for the stitches.
I waited with him while he was stitched up, and when the nurse finally left him to answer a page, I moved over to his side. I’d been keeping an eye on Wallace’s photo, and I hadn’t seen it change in almost two minutes. “Anything?” he asked me.
I turned the photo so he could see it. “I think you can put this back on your desk, sir. He’s gonna make it.”
Faraday let out a huge sigh and grabbed the photo to hug it to his chest while turning his face away from me. “He’s my best friend,” he said after a few minutes, lifting his gaze back to look at me. “And you saved his life, Maddie.”
“Me? You’re the one who found him.”
“I never would’ve gone looking if you hadn’t seen his photo. He’s got a gunshot wound to the chest. That son of a bitch shot him.”
I’d guessed as much from all the blood. “Do you think Wes Miller was inside the house when it blew up?”
Faraday ran a hand through his hair. It came away covered in singed black hairs. He looked at his palm with some measure of surprise before answering me. “I have no idea. They’ll need to put out that fire first and then go looking for a body, but I doubt he was inside. His truck wasn’t in the drive or on the street, so he’s probably running for the Canadian border by now. If I was him, that’s where I’d be headed.”
“Can you catch him?”
Faraday lifted his phone and tapped at the screen, wincing as his injured arm moved. “Oh, we’ll catch him,” he said. “Or die trying.”
I LEFT FARADAY TO HEAD to the waiting room. He came out and sat with me while Wallace was in surgery. Faraday spent much of that time on the phone getting yelled at by his boss, who was angry at him for leaving the scene. Around four thirty my own phone rang. The caller ID said it was from Stubby’s house. “Dude!” I sang happily the moment I picked up. “I’ve missed you!”
“Maddie?” I heard a woman say.
It took me a minute to recognize her voice. “Mrs. Schroder?”
“Yes, sweetie, it’s me. I’m calling to see if you’ve heard from Arnold.”