As they headed toward the kitchen, Molly pulled out her flashlight. The short time she’d spent outside had ruined her night vision, and the house seemed even gloomier than before. She automatically checked rooms as they passed, noticing that John had his own flashlight in hand and was doing the same thing. For some reason, this similarity in their methods made her smile before she ordered her brain to focus on the potentially dangerous task ahead.

A loud crash came from upstairs as they moved through the kitchen, and Molly glanced back at John. He gave her a grim look and took the lead up the stairs.

“Trip wire at the top, close to the floor,” she whispered.

His glance back at her was quick but telling. “You couldn’t have just told me where it was instead of insisting on coming along?”

Even though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “You might’ve missed something.”

He muttered under his breath, too softly for her to hear.

Although she wanted to say something else, she stayed quiet as they reached the top of the stairs. Instead of stepping over the trip wire, John pulled a small pair of wire cutters out of his pocket and snipped the line.

Good idea. She patted him on the back in approval. There were going to be a lot of innocent first responders tromping through in ten minutes or so, and it was better that they didn’t blow themselves up by accident. When John turned, his eyebrows lifted in question, she just gave him a thumbs-up.

They moved toward the doors again, and Molly pointed at the one on the right, even though it was obvious where the explosion had occurred. The door was still wide open after her mad dash to escape, and shrapnel had peppered the wall and door across the hall from Sonny’s room. Although there was a slight haze of smoke, the room wasn’t the smoldering pit she’d expected. The glass from the uncovered window littered the floor, but otherwise all the mess was the same as before the explosion.

“Concussion grenade?” she asked, stepping cautiously into the space.

John caught her arm, tugging her back as he slid in front of her. That seemed to becoming a habit on his part. “Most likely. Be careful, though. In an old house like this, it still could’ve done damage.”

The faint wail of an emergency siren drifted in through the open window, reminding Molly that they were short on time. “I’ll search in here. Go break down the other two doors and see why they’re locked. I’m guessing Sonny did that to slow down anyone who’s searching for him, but there might be something useful. Be careful, though. Apparently, Sonny loves his booby traps.”

John’s eyebrows lifted. “Break them down? Look at you, Miss Demolition.”

She gave a small shrug, even as she internally preened a little at the admiration in his voice. “Mother Tick can’t get mad about the damage. She pretty much demanded that we search for Sonny.”