Page 17

“Watch her legs,” Nova said.
Booth stepped back. “Your turn.”
Nova shook her head and took a step to the side. “You first.”
This was no time for arguing, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway. Nova was too headstrong. “See you on the other side.”
He crawled through the hole and felt hands grabbing him under the arms, helping him up. Booth sucked in clean air and coughed.
Then Nova was by his side, coughing right along with him. She ripped off her mask and dropped it to the ground.
Local firefighters had arrived and were dousing the building with water. An ambulance screamed to a stop on the asphalt, and two men jumped out. One ran to get his gear. The other headed for where Finn had laid Jan on the ground.
Still coughing, Nova gave the paramedic a rundown. “Her name is Jan. She was unconscious when I found her in the fire. One of those big tree logs in the museum fell on her legs. Last I checked, she was breathing. Pulse steady. Both slow.”
“Thanks, we’ve got her.” The paramedic knelt and went to work. “Do you know this woman’s medical history?”
Booth searched the crowd. The fire captain was with Miles, shouting over the roar of water now streaming out of hoses. A few other faces he didn’t recognize stood around, arms folded. Hotshots probably. He spotted Myron shuffling toward them. “That’s her husband right there.”
The second paramedic said, “We can take it from here.”
Behind Myron, a burly man with a shaved head and bushy beard stood alone near the airplane hangar. He wore baggy jeans, a concert T-shirt, and a black leather vest. Black wraparound sunglasses obscured his eyes. Smoke drifted from the tip of the cigarette between his first two fingers.
Definitely not meant to be here.
They made eye contact. The man stuck the cigarette between his lips. Inhaled a long drag, then flicked the still burning stub into the grass.
Booth’s throat tightened. He wasn’t just out here on a smoke break. There was nothing innocent about the man or the cigarette.
I know you.
A familiarity tugged at Booth’s memory, like an invisible string stretching to connect the dots. If the guy would take off those shades, let Booth see his eyes, maybe he could figure it out.
Shades fished in his pocket and pulled out something small and red. A lighter. He leaned against the hangar and worked his thumb over it, lighting a small flame and letting it die. Again and again, with a big stupid grin on his face.
Clearly Shades knew something Booth didn’t. Why not go ask what was so funny?
He strode across the parking lot on a mission. Shades pushed off the aluminum building and disappeared around the corner.
Booth picked up his pace and jogged the last few yards. The stink of cigarettes lingered along with another distinctive odor. Gasoline.
This guy had set the fire.
The fire that’d almost killed Jan. And Nova.
Booth clenched his fists and rounded the corner in time to catch a blur coming.
He ducked.
The object sailed inches above his head. He bounced up to see Shades holding a tire iron. The big stupid grin had transformed into a sinister smirk.
Booth rocked back on his heels, fists up. “Who sent you?”
“Don’t matter. Money’s money.” Shades turned the tire iron over in his hand.
All the saliva in Booth’s mouth dried up.
Shades was some sort of assassin. One who didn’t care about collateral damage.