The phone ringing at 2:42 a.m. jerked him out of his sleep. This was not the first call he’d gotten from Omega in the middle of the night. Derek looked at the caller ID: Steve Drackett.
“Steve, what’s up?” Derek tried to wipe the sleep from his voice the best he could.
“Derek, I need you to get back to HQ right away. There’s been an explosion at the building. I’m on my way in now, but you’re closer.”
Derek was instantly awake. “Like what, a fire?”
“No. I don’t have many details yet, but I know it was an explosion. In the forensic lab.”
Derek could actually feel his heart stop beating. “Forensic lab?” he parroted.
“Yes. And I know there’s at least one confirmed death.”
Derek’s general idea of “help from above” was a sniper on the roof, but he prayed like he had never prayed before as he broke multiple traffic laws driving back to Omega Headquarters in downtown Colorado Springs.
It was nearly three in the morning. The forensic lab had just exploded. One person was dead.
No matter how much he tried to twist it, there was no way to think that it wasn’t Molly. Who else would even be there at almost three o’clock in the morning?
Acid ate at his gut when Derek thought of the fact that she wouldn’t have been there at all if he hadn’t asked her to stay. To do something specifically for him.
But he categorically refused to assume the worst until there was no other choice. Until he was presented with proof positive that it was Molly who was dead.
He hit the gas harder and rounded a corner, nearly blinded by all the emergency vehicle lights parked at Omega. A uniformed officer stopped him from pulling into the parking lot, but let Derek through when he flashed his badge and ID.
Which saved Derek from having to pull his gun on the man. Because there was no way in hell he wasn’t getting into that parking lot.
Chaos reigned as Derek parked his car far enough away not to hinder any emergency vehicles and jogged over to a small group of personnel who seemed to be directing the efforts.
Behind them he could see the building burning, the concentration of flames largest in the southwest corner. Smoke billowed from right where the forensic lab was located—what was left of it.
“I’m Omega agent Derek Waterman, standing in for Director Drackett until he gets here in a few minutes.” Derek pulled out his ID, but the men barely glanced at it.
“Captain Jim Brandal, with Station 433,” the man closest to Derek, holding a hand radio, said, nodding at him. “You’ve had some sort of explosion in the southwest corner of the building.”
“That’s the forensic lab.” Derek kept the panic out of his voice.
Captain Brandal looked over at the man standing next to him and both of their faces turned more grim. “That’s what we figured. Any hazardous materials there?”
Derek shrugged. He was sure there were, but he didn’t know what. “Almost definitely. You have one confirmed dead?” His throat tightened as he said the words.
“Yes,” Captain Brandal agreed, and then started to say more before stopping to respond to a report from the radio in his hand.
Derek shifted in frustration. Who was dead? Where? Had the ID of the victim been established?
But looking at the smoke from the forensic lab, so much more than from the house fire today that had been minutes from taking his own life, Derek realized no one could’ve survived in there.
Derek steeled himself, forced himself to cut off emotions altogether. It was one of the things he’d become an expert at over the years.
The fire department captain turned back to Derek after his radio conversation. “Sorry. Yes, one confirmed dead. But the good news is that the fire doors in the building instantly shut after the explosion. So there should be very limited causalities outside of the immediate blast site.”
Some part of Derek knew that was good, but the biggest part of him didn’t care if everyone else in the building survived if Molly had died. He managed to nod at Captain Brandal.
Brandal continued, “Based on what the firefighters closest to the blaze reported, it looks like there was an explosion in the lab, which is why we asked about hazardous materials.”
“I’m sure there were flammable items in the lab, but the safety record there is exemplary. Never been any problems reported whatsoever,” Derek told the man.
He had a hard time imagining meticulous Molly being anything but completely safe in her lab. But she was overworked and overtired. Anyone could make a mistake under those conditions.
The Captain shrugged. “It only takes one time.”
Derek felt guilt threaten to overtake him as the man’s words echoed his thoughts. But he ruthlessly tamped it down. There’d be time for guilt later. Right now he had to know the answer to the question burning a hole in his gut.
“Has the body been identified yet?” he asked through gritted teeth. Then an ugly thought hit him. “Can it even be identified here on scene?”
Maybe there wasn’t enough left of the body to be identified visually. The thought made him sick to his stomach.
“Hang on.” Captain Brandal spoke into the radio again and waited for a response. “The body is over by the paramedics. I’m sorry for your loss, but truly, with an explosion of this size, it’s nothing short of a miracle that only one life was lost.”
Nothing felt further from the truth to Derek. He wiped a hand over his face. “Thanks,” he murmured.
“Paramedics said you should probably be able to ID the guy visually. If not, we can use other means.”
Derek’s head jerked up. “Guy? Paramedics are sure the victim is a man?”
Brandal spoke into his radio once again, then turned back to Derek. “Yep. Young black male. Midtwenties.”
Definitely not Molly. Derek felt relief flood through him.
But where was she?
* * *
THE EXPLOSION ROCKED the whole building. Molly had been staring at the vending machine in the break room outside the lab, feeling guilty because she had promised Derek she would eat hours ago in the cafeteria, when she found herself thrown back against the wall and crumpling to the ground.
For long, panicked moments she couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. She struggled to get her bearings, feeling around along the floor. The emergency generator lights kicked on, casting a ghoulish gray light around the break room. But at least she could see.
The vending machine lay broken on the floor, the chairs and table knocked over and scattered across the room. The coffeemaker was hanging precariously off the side of a shelf, held by just its cord plugged into the wall. Dust floated around everywhere, like snowflakes in slow motion, moving in all directions.
Molly began moving toward the hallway, trying to shake off the ringing in her ears. What had happened? Not an earthquake. It was too loud. Definitely some sort of explosion.
She needed to get back to the lab, but once she rounded the corner from the break room she realized the lab was on fire. In all the chaos it took her longer than it normally would’ve to realize that the explosion had come from the lab.
Oh, no. David had been working in there.
Molly rushed forward, but after only a few feet