Joe accepted the help to stand up, where he found his legs to be surprisingly wobbly. “No … I’m fine. Not an everyday experience, you know?”

Willy compressed his lips doubtfully. “The day’s still young,” he said, and escorted his boss toward the door.

The way out was like following a demented version of Twister, where the targets for your feet were as just convoluted and challenging, but the area expanded to one room after another—a long, meandering journey where a loss of balance ran the real risk of bringing down the roof.

Seamus was abandoned where he lay. Until the building and what remained of his vest were thoroughly vetted by a team of bomb techs, no peripheral activities—including a body retrieval—would be allowed.

That level of caution was evident even outside, where Joe and Willy met with Christian Mock and others who were directing everyone to leave the property entirely, all the way to the highway beyond the gate.

“That much of a concern?” Joe asked.

“We found a couple of nonactivated det cord traps, designed for approaching personnel if needed. God knows what else this nutjob has rigged. Your ICAC pal in the van says he picked up radio signals right now coming from somewhere off-site.”

Joe shook his hand as he prepared to leave. “Thank you, Christian, for landing on top of me. It was unexpected and much appreciated.”

Mock brushed it off. “Pure instinct. Probably born of a simple mind. That’s what my wife tells me. I’ll look forward to seeing you back in Vermont sometime, hopefully under more pleasant circumstances.”

He wandered off to wrap things up with his colleagues. He’d be leaving for Vermont almost immediately, his hasty team role completed. New Hampshire’s bomb squad would take over cleaning up the Shaw property from here on out.

Joe and Willy made Fred Houston’s van their destination upon reaching a highway clotted with official vehicles stretching for half a mile, most of them flashing strobe lights unnecessarily.

As they walked up this line, Joe asked Willy, “You okay after all that? Any combat flashbacks?”

Kunkle’s honest response surprised him. “Worse than that.”

Joe paused to study him. “What happened?”

“I froze.”

“What d’you mean? You were right there. I saw you.”

“Still. I wanted to leave you high and dry.”

Joe tried to process Willy’s obvious distress. “For crying out loud. That’s perfectly reasonable. What the hell? You really think that’s a bad thing? It’s not like we were surrounded by bad guys, shooting it out.”

“It’s never happened before.”

A vehicle was heading toward them, and Joe steered Willy between two cruisers to avoid it.

“You were never a father before. What d’you think? That’s why I mentioned Emma when Mock was rolling up his sleeves.”

“You got Hillstrom,” Willy pushed back as the vehicle rolled by and they resumed walking toward Houston’s van.

“That’s different,” Joe replied. “You know that. Kids are a part of you. You don’t think of Sam every time you get in a jam. And I bet she doesn’t worry about you then, either. But Emma? Get used to it. And pay attention, too. You owe her that.”