Page 84 of The Devoted Game

Pierce put his hands up in a hold-it gesture. “No way am I letting the two of you go into this without backup.”

“Then we might as well all go back home,” Ryan warned, “because if we don’t follow the rules, Worth is a dead man.”

Twenty-Four

2hours, 10minutes remaining...

Twenty-Second Street and Fourth Avenue, 5:50 a.m.

“It’s damned quiet.” Vivian shivered as she stared out the window of her SUV. They had parked across the street, near the newMagic City Newsbuilding.

She could only imagine how Worth felt. Fear for his life had banished her worries over having her past revealed. She would just have to live with it.

Worth could die ... They had no idea what kind of challenge waited for them inside that five-story building. Whatever it was, it could very well be capable of bringing down the century-old brick-and-limestone structure. So far Devoted Fan hadn’t made a single claim he hadn’t backed up.

“Birmingham PD, Pierce, and the team are only three blocks away if we need them,” McBride reminded her.

Yeah, and emergency personnel were close by as well. In case of a fire or explosion or whatever the hell came next. The memory of Martin Fincher’s dead wife made her shudder again. The chief tech from the forensics unit had called McBride five minutes ago to pass along preliminary details. They had found Mrs. Fincher’s organs preserved in spice-filled jars in the closet of their bedroom.

If, as the tech suspected, a quasi-Egyptian mummification method had been used, the body would have been cleansed, rubbed in salt, and then filled with spices. Instead of wrapping her with cloth, it appeared he had varnished her. Original, but truly sick.

The guy definitely had done his research. That went hand in hand with what they had learned about his occupation, an aerospace engineer retired from NASA. If the certificates and plaques hanging in his house were any indication, a brilliant engineer.

An APB had been put out on Martin Fincher and his vintage blue Volvo wagon, the same vehicle he’d had since before his son was born. He had probably researched just the kind of car to buy to keep his child safe. The Finchers had been in their early forties before having their first and only child. Losing him certainly would have pushed them toward the edge Martin had eventually fallen over, perhaps with the death of his wife.

“Grace.”

She snapped out of the disturbing thoughts. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Let’s get in there and find out what the hell we’re up against.”

They had two hours, but there was no way to know what obstacles might stand between them and rescuing Worth. Scanning the building’s dark windows, she emerged from her SUV and then pushed the door shut. She reached into the back seat for her gear. She had brought along flashlights, a box-cutter-style knife, screwdrivers, a pry bar, scissors, and a hammer, just in case—all stuffed into a backpack. The trip to Sloss Furnaces had taught her a lesson about being prepared.

“We’ll start with the top floor.” McBride met her at the front of the vehicle and took the bag. “Work our way down.”

“You’re the boss.”

His gaze met hers in the moonlight. “I’m not so sure trusting me that much is a good thing, Grace.”

Maybe not, but it was too late. She already did. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit, McBride,” she argued, lied actually. “Worth told us all to follow your orders. I’m just doing my job.”

That one corner of McBride’s mouth kicked up, telling her that she wasn’t fooling him one bit.

“Let’s get this done.”

He crossed the street, his attention on the front entrance. She stayed a couple of steps behind, monitoring left and right to ensure nothing unexpected got the jump on them. Birmingham PD’s SWAT unit had scouts prowling the alleys and side streets. They all knew that Fincher would be here somewhere.

She took a last look around. Lots of places to hide.

A slow walk around the building revealed that Worth wasn’t hanging from the rooftop or any of the windows. Since there was no roof access, they could assume he wasn’t up there.

Pierce had suggested the use of wireless communications since they were going inside without any backup, but McBride had declined. What was the point? If anyone else entered the premises, the game was over. So far no one had died, but they couldn’t take the risk. Martin Fincher was not playing with a full deck, which provided the ammo Pierce needed to push for a compromise. Vivian was to check in every half hour or Pierce would send in a tactical team. McBride didn’t like it, but he had left it at that.

TheMagic City NewsCEO had been rousted from bed for the necessary keys. The man had insisted on staying close to the scene with Birmingham PD. Vivian couldn’t blame him, he was responsible for the building. Considering the ongoing war with the Preservation Committee, he was probably hoping it would blow so he wouldn’t have to fight them anymore.

“I guess we won’t be needing the keys,” McBride commented as he opened the door.