Jared watched the fire in horror, grabbing each side of his blonde hair with his fists. He shook his head, and then grabbed his knees, leaning over. After a few moments, he ran back to his Escalade and took off at full speed. The wheels squealed against the pavement.

I ran to my desk and grabbed at the phone with trembling hands. I tried to dial 911, but my fingers shook so much that I kept hitting the wrong keys. After the third try, Jared was beside me.

I collapsed into him, tears finally welling up in my eyes. “What happened?” I cried. “Where did you go?”

“I wanted them to think I panicked and drove off. It was a bomb, Nina. They wired your car with a bomb.”

I paused, my eyes widening. “I killed her. I gave her the keys to my car and sent her to her death! Oh my God, Jared, she’s dead! She’s only twenty-two years old! She just got off the phone with her mother not half an hour ago!” My voice grew shriller with every fact.

Jared hugged me to him, unable to find words of comfort. “I should have sensed it. I should have smelled it—something.”

“Nothing?” I said, looking up at him with wet eyes.

He shook his head. “Not a damn thing. The baby and how it affects your body saturates my senses. They must have wired it after you arrived at work. I don’t understand. I wasn’t half a block away. I should have seen it.”

“We have to call the police,” I whimpered.

“Let someone else do it. If whoever placed the bomb somehow mistook her for you, it may buy us some time. That’s why I made such a show in the street. They’re probably watching.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Must have been a shell. There’s no way to tell how many are around.”

I nodded, and Jared pulled my hand, leading me to the stairwell. He held his finger to his mouth, and then opened the door. We descended four flights of stairs into the basement level, and then sneaked out an access door to the alley.

My shoes tapped against the wet pavement and sloshed through puddles. The moonlight glistened on the wet pavement we walked upon. Jared led us through labyrinthine alleyways cluttered with green trash bins and litter until we finally reached the Escalade.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.

“Then whose fault is it?” I sobbed, hitting the door with my fist. “I want to know! I want them to be held accountable for taking an innocent person’s life! She was mean and spiteful, but she had her whole life ahead of her! It’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not. It’s sloppy. They’ve never made a mistake like this.”

“You think it was a mistake?” I sniffed.

“One way or another.”