It was ironic that she really did fall down when she was just a few feet away from her car door. She even bumped her forehead on the fender.

She got the door open and slid into the driver's seat. Her gaze locked on her watch as the seconds ticked by. Less than three minutes remained. Perfect timing. She glanced up at the old Victorian brick mansion at the top of the hill and laughed to herself. To think that she'd ever want such a monstrosity was ludicrous. The old man hadn't done anything in thirty years to update or maintain it. It was just a huge, ugly monument to his mean and selfish life.

She knew she was supposed to wait until after the explosion to make the call, but she thought it would be more convincing if she were on the line pleading for help when the house exploded.

Two minutes to go. Now, she thought. She pushed 9-1-1.

An operator answered on the first ring.

"What is your emergency?"

"Please, please help me," she cried out. "He's got a bomb, and he's going to kill her. I got out, but she's still inside the house with him, and I can't… oh, please…"

"What is your address?" the calm operator asked.

"Four-seventeen Barkley Road. Please hurry," she screamed.

"We have two cars in your area, ma'am. They're on their way. Just stay on the line with me until they get there. What is your name?"

Vanessa was sobbing and panting for breath and hoped she sounded hysterical. "Vanessa MacKenna. They've got to get here now. Don't you understand? He's going to kill her."

"Who, ma'am? Who are you talking about?"

"Kate MacKenna. My brother-in-law Ewan has her."

Less than a minute to go.

The operator continued to ask questions.

"Where are you now, ma'am? Are you away from the house?"

"Yes. He looked the other way, and I ran. I'm at the gate at the end of the driveway-by my car. Oh, I hear sirens. They're coming."

"Just stay with me until they get to you, okay?"

"Yes, I will. Oh, please, they have to stop him." She took the phone from her ear and turned it toward the house.

Five… four… three… two… one.

Time ran out… and nothing happened.

Dylan's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. How could he have let this happen? Kate… oh, God, Kate…

No sooner had he absorbed the news that she had disappeared than he heard a car screech to a stop in front of the building. Agent Kline had told him he would meet him at Smith and Wesson, but he didn't get out of his car. He pounded on the horn.

The security guard who had left his post leaped out of the way in the nick of time, or Dylan would have plowed over him as he bolted out the door. His brain was on automatic now.

Kline had the window down and was shouting, "Get in! Let's go, let's go." He leaned across the seat and pushed the passenger door open.

Dylan jumped inside. He was pulling the door closed when Kline hit the gas pedal. The car rocketed forward.

"Kate's gone," Dylan roared.

"I know," Kline answered. "I heard it from dispatch. I know where she is," Kline said, hoping to God he was right. "A call was patched through from Savannah PD. Vanessa left the hospital, said it was an emergency. She was meeting Ewan at Compton's house.

She's been staying there, and I'm guessing Kate's with her. Process of elimination," he rushed on.

He ran a red light, turned left, and shot down the street.

"Vanessa told people where she was going? It could be a setup," Kline said.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking," Dylan said, trying to make sense of it all.

They both knew Kate could already be dead, but neither voiced the fear.

"Kate has to be there with Vanessa," Dylan said. "And if she isn't, I don't know where they could have taken her. I never should have left her. I should have stayed."

"We're close," Kline said. "And every available unit is on the way. We'll get to her in time." He took another corner on two wheels, straightened, and, tires squealing, sped on.

Dylan pulled his gun out of the holster, popped the magazine out, checked it, and then snapped it back in with the heel of his hand. "If anyone hurts Kate, I'll kill them. And it's not going to be quick or clean."

Dylan's tirade made Kline nervous. "Try to remember I'm a federal agent, okay? Don't tell me you're going to kill someone. That's called premeditated murder. You're a detective. You know that."

Dylan shoved the gun back in the holster. "Can't you drive faster?"

The radio in the police car Kline had commandeered crackled to life as dispatch relayed the 911 call from Vanessa.

Dylan heard the word "bomb." It felt like a crushing blow hit him in the gut.

The dispatcher was routing police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks to the neighborhood. Kline got on the radio and gave the operator his approximate ETA.

They turned onto a four-lane, heavily congested street flying past other vehicles. Most drivers pulled over when they heard the siren, but there were a few who either hadn't heard the noise or had heard it and didn't care. Kline swung the car in and out with the efficiency of a NASCAR driver.

Dylan still thought he could do better, go faster.

"Vanessa's saying Ewan's got a bomb, right?" Kline asked.

"It's not Ewan," Dylan shouted.

"I know, I know," Kline said. "You convinced me, but what I'm trying to say is that I don't think it's been detonated yet. If it's anything like the other two bombs, we'd have heard about it by now."

"Yeah, that's right." Dylan actually felt a kernel of hope. "I never told her…"

"Told her what?"

He didn't answer. "You're slowing down."

"The hell I am. We're closing in. Bomb squad should be right behind us. Damn, another bomb. Third time's the charm? We've got to get this prick."

Kline spotted an ambulance in his rearview mirror weaving in and out of traffic. "One more turn up ahead and straight about a mile," he said. "In this ritzy neighborhood, the estates are spread out-that's good because I hate to think-" He stopped, but not in time.

Dylan finished the thought. "If the houses are crammed together and a bomb goes off, the number of casualties escalates. You think I don't know the problems?" he snapped.

Kline shouted back. "I don't want you to become my problem, got that? You're involved with Kate, aren't you? I can hear it in your voice and see it in your face. Emotional involvement makes you a risk. You've got to keep it together, or you'll be no help at all."

Kline didn't slow down enough when he turned the corner, nearly putting the car into a spin. Quickly compensating, he regained control.

"When this is over, Kline, you need to take driver's ed. You drive like an old lady."

"I'm going sixty down a residential street."

Ahead there was a four-way stop. Two police cars raced toward the intersection from opposite directions. Kline fishtailed around the stop signs, narrowly missing both cars.

Cars rushed at the MacKenna mansion from every direction. Two police cars blocked the street, and the uniforms were cordoning off the area. One signaled Kline to stop, but he ignored the directive, driving over the curb toward the iron gates. Through the trees, Dylan glimpsed the house. An ambulance was parked next to another car which obstructed his view of the people clustered together.

Kline had a better vantage point. "Hallinger's here. That's his car, isn't it?"

"I don't see Kate. Do you see Kate?" Dylan asked, reaching for the door handle.

"Hold on! Let me get inside the gate. Keep looking," Kline urged. "Ah, there's Vanessa. Over on the right. You let me handle her, you hear me?"

"I don't see Kate. I don't see her."

"Bomb squad's here. They're getting ready now. Dylan, what the hell are you-"