Trace caught up with her and turned her to face him. “Let me take a look first, see if it’s safe.” He glanced at Edge, who nodded.

Trace grabbed a pair of binoculars and took off walking, heading for a gully that led up the hill, making his way to a vantage point on top where he could look down into the compound. He returned a few minutes later.

“DEA’s got agents all over the place. No sign of the women or any of Henson’s men.”

“I’m tired of waiting,” Edge said. “Let’s go.” They all piled into the Yukon, Trace behind the wheel. He pulled out from between two parked vehicles, drove back onto the main road, and headed the short distance to the compound.

As the Yukon reached the front gate, which stood open, agents swarmed the grounds inside, too busy to worry about a vehicle they had seen parked outside and figured was somehow connected to the raid.

Trace pulled through the gate, got as far as the church before two agents in black tactical gear ablaze with big yellow DEA letters stepped in front of the car, blocking their way.

One of them walked around to the window, an assault rifle slung across his chest. “Sorry, this area is closed. How did you get in here?”

“Edge Logan. We’re working with SSA Cross.” He flipped out his PI badge. “We saw the explosion and figured you might need some help.”

“You can park over there.” The agent pointed to a spot out of the way in front of the church. Trace parked, and all of them got out.

“Skye Delaney.” Skye flashed her badge as she walked back to the agent. “We have women friends in here. We need to find them, make sure they’re okay.”

“Special Agent Joe Monroe.” Of medium height and well-built, he had a hard, serious face under his black ballistic helmet. “The women are all in the church, but you can’t talk to them until they’ve been interviewed and we’ve taken their statements. Sorry.”

“I live here,” Callie said, her chin lifting. “My name is Callie Delaney, and the women in there are my friends. I’m going in.” Without waiting for permission, she whirled and marched off toward the wide front steps leading up to the front doors of the church.

The agent swore beneath his breath. Plucking his cell out of a pocket, he made a call, spoke briefly, then hung up the phone.

“Ms. Delaney can stay, but the rest of you need to leave. This place is toxic. We had guys in hazmat suits ready to go in, but the building turned out to be wired. The explosion nixed the plan.”

Skye and Edge both looked past Agent Monroe to the thick smoke still climbing into the sky at the far end of the compound.

“Any casualties?” Edge asked.

“Lucky for us, the bomb went off before we entered the structure. Except for the women, the entire compound was empty when we got here.”