She was acquainted with lots and lots of restaurants all over town since she rarely dined at home. The place she had in mind stayed open until eleven, so there was plenty of time. At that point she would decide the best course of action for delving into this case.
After ducking under the tape once more, she waited while Brandon locked the door. His pale blue coat looked lightweight but she knew from the brand, one skiers preferred, that it would keep him warm despite the chilly Chicago weather.
He stood back, allowing her to descend the stairs first. A few steps down, she glanced back to see if he had said anything. That he watched her so closely warned her that he was suspicious to some degree. She would have to share the truth with him—soon.
It was only fair.
She had already made an assessment about his challenges. Approaching the subject would be touchy and would have to wait. Her own challenge, however, would not wait. Yet she put off the inevitable. Selfishly clung to any reprieve. Her previous superior had called her on that strategy many times.
The stairwell abruptly shook as if an earthquake had rocked the entire building or block. Brandon had stopped his downward momentum and now whirled back toward his apartment. With her attention over her shoulder, Merri lost her balance and barely caught the railing before plunging forward.
When the building had stopped shaking, she turned back to check on Brandon and to better assess the situation. The door of his apartment had blown open, and now hung precariously on its hinges. Even as she stared at the unexpected sight, debris drifted downward to settle on the scarred tile floor.
Fear brushed against Merri’s skin.
Not an earthquake or any other natural disaster.
An explosion.
They had just exited the apartment. Fifteen, twenty seconds ago! Her sense of smell was keen. She’d noticed no gas…nothing.
Instinct railed at her.
Get out of the building!
Now!
“Brandon!”
He couldn’t look away from the landing outside his door.
“That was an explosion!”
Something had blown up in his apartment! He blinked, stared at the door barely hanging on its hinges.
What the hell had just happened?
“Brandon!”
He turned to the woman waiting a few steps below him. The questions reeling through his mind would be the same as hers. Should they call the police? What the hell would they say? Your crime scene just blew up. But this wasn’t just a crime scene, this was his home.
“We have to get out of here,” Merri urged.
His feet were taking him down the stairs before his brain analyzed her warning. They were in danger. Imminent danger. If they hadn’t walked out that door when they had…damn! It was a miracle they weren’t dead.
Like Kick.
When Brandon hit the step where she waited, she grabbed his hand and rushed downward. They moved past the second floor and onto the first in record time. He moved toward the front entrance.
She held him back, her face a study in worry. “Is there a rear exit? There could be trouble waiting for us out there.”
“A side exit. To the alley.”
“We’ll try that way.”
Once more she urged him forward. He took the lead, showing the way. She stayed close behind him, weaving through the narrow corridor that ended at the only other exit on the ground floor.
Brandon hit the release on the door, bursting out into the alley between his building and the next. The cold air slapped him in the face, making him immensely thankful for the coat and sneakers. He’d half frozen this morning. The cops hadn’t cared, probably could care less that there had been an explosion in his apartment, except that there might have been more evidence to collect. This was insane!
Why would anyone do that?
The tug on his hand slowed his rush toward the street. He turned back to the woman who’d stopped shy of his destination.
“We should call the police.”
He tried to catch his breath and slow his racing heart. She was right. He patted his pockets for his cell phone. Tried to remember if the police had given the phone back to him. No, he decided, they hadn’t, hadn’t given him back his wallet, either.
Didn’t matter. She had her phone in her hand before he could explain the absence of his own.
Headlights fanned across the dim alley. The vehicle had come from the narrow cross street at the back of the alley. Only the city’s garbage collection truck or a delivery truck usually drove through the area. The lights bobbed as the vehicle cut around Dumpsters and trashcans, coming closer. Too close.
What the hell?
She was pulling on his hand again, moving toward the street at the front of the alley.
Hadn’t she said they shouldn’t go out toward the front?
But the vehicle was bearing down on them now.
After them.
Damn! What the hell?
He surged forward, letting her drag him toward the street.
Tires squealed.
Brandon ran faster in an effort to keep up with the woman one step in front of him.
“Stop!”
The male voice was close behind them. Too close.
Merri Walters kept running for the street that seemed so far away. Brandon slowed but didn’t stop as ordered. She kept moving…shouldn’t he?
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Brandon dared to glance back. The blinding headlights on either side of the man made Brandon squint. But there was no mistaking the black ski mask he wore, his fire-ready stance…or the gun in his hand.
Brandon stopped. Merri’s forward momentum jerked on his hand. He tightened his grip, halting her movement. He didn’t have to wonder if she looked back and saw what he’d seen. She was suddenly standing next to him, staring at the man with the gun.
“Put your hands up,” the man warned. “Now!”
Brandon heard the sirens in the distance. Help was on its way, but it wouldn’t get here in time to stop this man from shooting one or both of them if they failed to obey his command. Brandon’s hands lifted in surrender. Merri looked at him, then did the
