“Brianne Davenport.” She took the detective’s hand. “I own the winery across the road. Albert and my father used to go fishing together.” She cast another smile at the tall young man whose path Cameron was blocking. “Is this your son?”
“Friend,” she replied.
“Donny Thornton.” He shot his arm over her shoulder to offer Brianne his hand.
“He’s sixteen,” Cameron announced in a sharp tone.
“My,” Brianne gushed. “You’re awfully big for your age.”
Cameron could feel the heat from his blush against her neck.
Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, Brianne stepped in closer. “Do you have your driver’s license, Donny?” Upon learning that he did, she said, “I collect antique sports cars. I have seven in my garage across the road, including a Ferrari. I’ve been told that it’s the only one in the area. Would you like to see it? I may even let you take it for a spin.”
While Donny chuckled behind her, Cameron stepped in closer to tell her in a low voice. “I have a forty-five caliber Colt semi-automatic in my car. Would you like to see that? I may even let you ride in the back of my police cruiser on the way to the station after arresting you for attempted statutory rape—unless you walk away now.”
The two women’s eyes locked.
The predatory grin dropped from Brianne’s face. “Touchy.” She stepped back. Flashing a seductive grin at Donny, she tossed her pig tail over the back of her shoulder. “If you ever want to go for a spin, Donny Thornton, come on by. I’d be glad to let you go for a ride.”
“That would be great.” He stepped forward to follow her out only to find Cameron’s arm blocking him like a gate. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You stay away from her.” With each word, she made her point by jabbing him in his muscular chest with her index finger.
“Why?”
“She’s bad news.”
“You don’t even know her or anything about her,” he replied. “What makes you think she’s bad news?”
“I can tell.”
“I think you’re jealous because she’s rich and gorgeous.”
“More like I’m suspicious because she’s hitting on a teenager young enough to be her son.”
Donny’s eyes grew wide. “Really? She was hitting on me? Do you really think—”
“Whoa, cowboy!” Cameron grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked to force him to bend over so that she could tell him face-to-face. “You better lasso in those hormones right now. If I catch you anywhere near that cougar—”
“Tad!” Doris came up the stairs from the cellar. Her eyes grew wide when she saw them. Cameron still had the young man’s sweatshirt balled up in her fist. “Where’s Tad?”
“Probably outside eating.” Cameron released Donny “Is there anything I can do for you, Ms. Sullivan?”
“I wanted his opinion about something that I found downstairs.” Doris turned to lead her down the stairs.
When Donny attempted to go outside, Cameron, fearful that Brianne would corner him again, grabbed his wrist to drag him along with her. They made their way down the dark brick stairwell that creaked with each step they took. She could feel the rotted planks giving way under her weight.
“Geez,” Donny gasped when he saw the assortment of belongings in the cellar. “I guess this is what happens when you don’t clean your room.”
The piles of stuff were up to the ceiling. Halloween decorations. Christmas trees. Board games. Puzzles. There was also a wide assortment of dismantled small appliances. It appeared as if Albert Gordon tried to fix things when they broke instead of buying new.
“It’s pretty bad.” Doris went to a pile of clothes in the next room and turned on the overhead light. “What do you think I should do with these clothes? Should I stuff them in the garbage bags or take them to Goodwill?”
Cameron’s answer was a gasp.
As the light bulb illuminated the room, it lit up the item that wasn’t stacked on top of the piles of clothes, but instead, secured to the ceiling beam beside it. It was several sticks of dynamite sealed together with duct tape and wired to an alarm clock. The beating of Cameron’s heart drowned out the ticking from the clock.
“Bomb!” Donny squealed.
“What?” Doris looked around.
Cameron pointed with one hand while grabbing Donny with the other. “It’s a bomb! We have to get out of here!”
“Oh, no!” Grabbing her bag, Doris ran back into the other room and up the stairs.
Donny pushed Cameron ahead of him to ascend the stairs. In their haste, the rotting steps gave way under Cameron’s feet and collapsed to send her falling into his arms. Both of them fell to the floor.
Without looking back, Doris Sullivan disappeared up the stairs. They could hear her steps running on the floor above them.
“She left us!” Donny gasped. “She’s gone! She left us down here!” Stunned by her abandonment, he stared up the useless stairs. “I don’t believe—”
“I’m not leaving you.” Cameron grabbed his hand. “There’s got to be another way out.”
Upstairs, tears streaming down her face, Doris screamed while she ran from one room to the other on the ground floor.
“There’s a bomb downstairs! We have to get out of the house! There’s a bomb in the basement!”
Tad caught Doris in both his arms when she raced into the foyer. “A what?”
“A bomb! Downstairs! That police detective found it. She’s still down there with Donny!”
“Did you see it?”
“We all saw it!” The elderly woman’s body trembled. “The stairs broke, and they’re still down there with it!”
In a booming voice, Tad yelled up the stairs that everyone was to leave the house. “Everybody out! Now! There’s a bomb downstairs! Grab your butts and get out—go down to the end of the driveway to the road. Now!”
While the volunteers stampeded out, Tad searched for Joshua to tell him that his son and girlfriend were trapped downstairs with the bomb.
Out in the road at the end of the driveway, Joshua was looking to identify who was missing while ushering everyone back from the house when Jan rushed up to him. She was holding her cell phone to her ear. “Josh, Donny and Cameron are downstairs in the basement with the bomb. The stairs collapsed and they can’t get out. They’re trapped.”
His heart racing, Joshua fled up the driveway.
He and Tad ran around to the back door that went down a set of cement steps into the cellar. The sound of a window shattering came to their ears when they rounded the corner. The door had been padlocked shut from the outside, but Donny had found a sledge hammer to break the window pane.
After helping Cameron crawl out through the window pane and jump down, Joshua and Tad helped Donny squeeze his broad shoulders through the opening. “How much time do we have?” Tad asked Cameron while helping Donny out.
“I don’t know. I didn’t take the time to check out the timer.”
The four of them made a wide berth of the house while running around to the front and down the driveway to the road where the volunteers were waiting.
After everyone hugged and assured each other that they was safe, a silence fell over the group of volunteers. Cameron clutched Irving in her arms. Then, after the adrenalin wore off, they waited for the police to arrive or the house to blow up or for something to happen to justify the panic they had suffered. A murmur traveled through the crowd and eyes turned to Cameron, who they recalled had initiated the exodus from the house.
Even Irving eyed his mistress from where he had climbed up onto Donny’s shoulder to drape his body around his neck. His tail twitched from where it hung down to below Donny’s chest.
The murmur grew to a question that Tad was brave enough to voice. “Cam, are you sure that was a bomb you saw?”
“Yes, I’m sure it was a bomb,” she replied with her hands on her hips.
The glare in Joshua’s eyes matched those of Irving’s when he asked, “Do you even know what a bomb looks like?”
The house exploded into a fireball. The roof went straight up into the air. The windows shot straight out in every direction.
As if the bomb was under him, Irving sprang from where he had been lounging around Donny’s shoulders and landed in Cameron’s arms.
The blast hit the catering truck to detonate the gas tank and kerosene to set it ablaze, which detonated the garage.
“What a bummer,” Brianne Davenport said to the caterer, whose eyes popped open wide and mouth dropped open at the sight.
Within moments, Albert’s home, garage, and the catering truck were engulfed in a total inferno.
Out in the road, Joshua shoved Cameron and Donny down to the ground and threw himself spread eagle over both of them. The heat from the blast washed over them like a tidal wave.
The deafening explosion shook Snowden Road to be followed by silence that seemed to encompass the whole countryside.
Turning to Joshua, Cameron broke the silence. “Does that answer your question?”
Chapter Three
One Week Later
Pennsylvania State Police’s crime lab was still sorting through the debris of what had once been Albert Gordon’s farmhouse for evidence of who and why someone had blown up the elderly man’s home after his death. An already difficult job was made more challenging by the volume of junk that had been catapulted across the countryside by the bomb’s blast.
Detective Cameron Gates took the lead for the investigation since she was on the scene at the time of the explosion. Based on Albert Gordon’s long career as a criminal lawyer, she concentrated on looking through his background for disgruntled clients who may have sought revenge for a case lost. After a week, she was still empty-handed on leads or suspects.
After a long day of reading one ancient case file after another, Cameron went to Joshua’s home, a three-story stone house located on the corner of Rock Spring Boulevard and Fifth Street in Chester.
Friday night had become their date-at-home night. Unless he was in court, Joshua would work remotely at home and cook dinner for him, Cameron, Donny, Admiral, and Irving, who would spend the evening glaring at the other man who had come into his life. After dinner, the cat would curl up on the chair in Joshua’s study and sulk.
The scent of roasted chicken embraced Cameron like a mother’s loving arms when Donny opened the door to let her and Irving in. Her stomach growled reminding her that all she had eaten that day was a bag of tortilla chips with hot and spicy salsa.
On his way up the stairs to his room, Donny gestured down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Dad’s about done cooking dinner.”
In the Thornton kitchen, she found Joshua standing over a pot of homemade giblet gravy. The Thornton’s Irish Wolfhound-Great Dane mix, Admiral, was sitting next to him with his eyes focused on the pot. Spotting some tasty-smelling food, Irving jumped up onto a window sill. His tail twitching, he eyed the gravy.
Joshua was tearing off bites of the warm French bread and dipping them into the pan of gravy before eating them. It was a habit left over from his childhood. As a boy, Joshua claimed he had to taste his grandmother’s cooking before it was served to make sure it was cooked right. “You caught me.” He popped a second bite of gravy soaked bread into his mouth. “I can’t resist.” He dipped a bite of the bread in the gravy and tossed it in Admiral’s direction. The dog caught it in mid-air.
When Irving stretched out a paw as far as he could without falling off the window sill, Joshua tossed a bite doused in gravy, which the cat caught in his mouth, and then dropped. His whiskers soaked with gravy, he jumped to the floor to retrieve the morsel. He then tried to pick it up with his paws, only to get them wet. The cat shot Joshua a glare as if to say, “Why didn’t you tell me this was so messy?” He bit into the bread, shook it, and then proceeded to work on eating it bite by bite.
Meanwhile, Admiral was stomping his big feet to demand his next serving.
Ignoring the two of them, Joshua cut off a slice of the bread, dipped it in the gravy, and fed it to Cameron. She had barely swallowed before he kissed the gravy from her lips.
“Yummy.” She sliced off a helping of the bread that was still warm to the touch. “They’ve finished tearing down the house, and the state police are now going through Albert’s basement. They found parts of a square alarm clock. I recognized it as the timer on the bomb. With so much garbage in that basement, forensics has a lot to sort through to find the explosives, but they’ll get it done.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Albert led a completely low-risk lifestyle. He was as clean as a whistle. His closest friends were his neighbors who lived up and down Snowden Road, and they’ve all known each other their whole adult lives. That’s an old road out in the boonies.”
“Most everyone who lives around there is born and dies there,” Cameron said.
“Albert has been dead for almost a month,” he said. “If one of his clients wanted revenge, why blow up his house after he’s already dead? It isn’t like it’s hurting him any. I have yet to find one person who has ever been inside. Which leaves another question? When was that bomb planted?”
“And why was it set to detonate when the house was filled with people? I’m beginning to think one of us was the intended victim.” She tore off a bite of bread and tossed it at Admiral, who seemed to swallow it without chewing.