I reached for my radio to call them and say I was up. As I swung my legs over the bedside, the smell hit me. Faint…but familiar. A memory flash. I’d been eight. Brad and my mother had gone out, and I’d wanted to cook dinner for my dad. That was the only time I’d ever heard my father yell at my mother, when he’d come home, and found me alone…passed out on the floor because I’d forgotten to turn off the gas after making his meal.

I leapt to my feet so fast I tripped and nearly dropped my gun. I recovered, and raced out the door. So this was Wilkes’s plan—knock everyone unconscious and make easy work of the killings.

As I hit the hall, I heard the hiss of gas, not from downstairs, but from a bedroom. The gas fireplace in the master suite. I started to run, then checked myself. It could be a trap.

I lifted my gun then looked down at it and froze. Fire into a room full of gas?

I stuffed the gun into my holster, so I’d have both hands free…and so I wouldn’t instinctively fire if I saw Wilkes. As I holstered the gun, I thought of the radio. I’d left it in the room, running on instinct and thinking only of my gun. I considered going back, but that steady hiss of gas changed my mind. Shut that off first, then worry about the radio.

I stopped before reaching the doorway, and let my eyes adjust to the near dark as I listened. The hiss of gas from within covered any sounds, but that would work both ways. I reached into my pocket and made sure I had my penlight handy. Then I peered around the doorway.

The room was empty. In a sweep, I took in every place a man Wilkes’s size could hide. Dresser—too low. Bed—see-through iron headboard. The closet. It would have to be the closet. As I slunk along the wall, I paused to take out my penlight. Then I moved alongside the door.

Empty hangers clinked as I swung the door open. A walk-in closet. Empty except for a forlorn handful of hangers and a couple of plastic storage containers. The storage containers were stacked in the middle of the large closet. I looked up to see an attic access hatch above that stack. Was that how he’d come in? Shit!

I backpedaled out of the closet. My gaze flew to the hissing fireplace. Get that turned off first, then—

I took one step and froze. There, at the base of the fireplace, was a little box. On the box, a timer, a simple windup timer. And it was about to go off.

Dubois! I had to get to him—

No time!

“Dubois!” I screamed. “Get out!”