Page 96 of Deathtoll

By midafternoon, Murph was going out of his mind with worry.

They’d gotten zip out of the traffic cameras, but he refused to give up. His instincts said Asael was keeping Kate and Emma in Broslin.

When his phone rang on the passenger seat, he snatched it up.Bing.

“Anything?” Murph demanded.

“Where are you?”

“About two blocks from the station. Thought the FBI might be there by now. I want to talk to Cirelli.” A warm day, his window down, he could hear cheers and clapping in the distance, horns blowing. The festival had begun, with a dozen parade floats making their way down Main Street.

“Cirelli isn’t here yet. But we just got a message.”

“From Asael?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Okay. FBI just walked through the door. I have to go. We’ll talk when you get in.”

The line went dead, and Murph needed every ounce of his self-control not to snap the phone in half.

What freaking message?

When he finally reached the station and parked his truck, he took off running. He burst through the door, sailed by reception with a hurried nod to Leila, past the empty desks on his left, and straight to the captain’s office.

Cirelli hadn’t aged a day in the past five years—same short hair, same strict suit. Murph didn’t waste time on greeting the agent. He didn’t apologize for interrupting either.

“What message?” He couldn’t breathe until he had it. “Let me see.”

The captain turned his laptop around with an ominous expression, and Murph stared at the screen. It took him a few seconds to decipher that he was squinting at an explosive device attached to a two-by-four board with duct tape. The photo was a close-up, showing little else other than plywood behind the board.

“Any text with it?”

Bing scrolled up until three characters were revealed: 1/5.

“One of five.” Murph reached over and scrolled back down to the picture. “Any idea where they are? Or at least where this one is?”

“Inside some kind of a wooden structure,” Cirelli pointed out the obvious. “Beyond that? No.”

“It’s Asael,” Murph said.

The agent nodded. “Multiple crazies on this level in a town the size of Broslin, at the same time, would be highly unlikely.”

Murph kept his eyes on the picture. “The wood isn’t weather-beaten. Looks like something recently constructed. Do we have a list of building sites in town?”

“The two new developments,” Bing said. “Then hundreds of small-time reno projects probably. I already asked the township for a list of current building permits. And then there are people who work on their houses without asking for a permit.” He scratched his chin. “But why blow up something and kill a couple of innocent carpenters or a DIY enthusiast?”

“Unless Kate and Emma are in the house.” Murph was ready to tear the town apart with his own hands to find them. “Who’s tracing the phone that sent the image?”

“The FBI.” The captain nodded toward Cirelli.

“We should have the information soon,” she said. “But it’s probably a burner.”

“Has everyone on the team seen the photo?” Murph asked. “Someone might have a better guess than we do.”

“Sent it to everyone at the PD,” the captain told him. “They’re all out securing the…” His right hand curled into a fist that he banged on the table. “Parade.”

The single word had the power to suck the air out of the room.

They stared at each other in horror.