Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “But Belmont destroyed her phone.”

            “Yes, but she had an iPad in the car, and the app identified its last known location as of six this morning. After that the battery died. Get there ASAP. Rodriguez is right behind you.”

            Tom checked his rearview and, sure enough, Agent Rodriguez was following him. “Thank you. Do we have a warrant to search?”

            “We have permission from the homeowner. The wife was out of town with her grandchildren, but is on her way home. Her husband wasn’t answering her calls and she got worried because he’d texted that he’d been sick.”

            “Make and model of Mrs. McGrail’s car?”

            “Blue Honda Civic, three years old. Feed from the security cameras at the radio station show it parked down the block when the station blew. We put out a BOLO and got lucky. The car was spotted by SacPD, which is following now. Driver is wearing glasses and a wig, but is the same height and weight as Belmont. I’ve sent agents to back up SacPD, with instructions to intercept the car and take Belmont into custody ASAP.”

            Yes. Finally, Tom thought, his pulse thrumming. “Where is he?”

            “About twenty minutes from you. I expect to have him in custody before he arrives. If we don’t, do not engage Belmont without backup. I’ve sent more backup to your location.”

            “Yes, sir. I’m pulling up to the Smythes’ house now. Will call you back soon.”

            He met Rodriguez at the front door. The other agent had a battering ram and together they broke the door in. The house was very quiet, but the scene in the dining room proved that Belmont had been there. Several sticks of dynamite lay on the dining room table, wires and detonation caps strewn about.

            “Dammit,” Tom said. He pointed to two sets of packaging. “He bought two alarm clocks.”

            “Two bombs,” Rodriguez said. “My money’s on the Sokolovs’ house for the second.”

            “Mine too. They know not to accept any deliveries, but we need to alert them.”

            Rodriguez was already texting. “I sent a message to Raeburn and the agent he put in charge of guarding their house. They’ll get a bomb squad out there to sweep the property to make sure he hasn’t already managed to get a package into the house. Let’s keep going. Keep your eyes open for the homeowner. I don’t think he’ll be in good shape, if he’s still alive.”

            “Can you also let Raeburn know that we only found a few sticks here? And that he could have the box with him?” Tom had done a cursory search and saw no sign of the box DJ had stolen from Kowalski’s garage. “If the box was full when he stole it, he could be carrying a fuckton of explosives.”

            They continued searching the house, Rodriguez checking the master bedroom and Tom heading to the side of the house that faced the street. He checked every room, in the closets and under the beds. Just in case.

            He came to a halt when he saw the pink camera on the windowsill in a spare bedroom. “This window has a view of the Sokolovs’ street,” Tom called out. “He’s got a camera set up. He’s been sleeping in here. Printers are here, too, including a 3D printer.”

            Rodriguez joined him. “I found a lot of hair in the trash can. I think he shaved his hair off.”

            “We’ll have to update the BOLO.”

            “Already done.” Rodriguez grimaced at the view of the street. “He can’t see the Sokolovs’ front door from here, but he could see all the vehicular traffic.”

            “And the foot traffic.” An unpleasant shiver ran down Tom’s spine. “That spot, right there?” He pointed out to the street. “I was standing there yesterday with another agent. We were in tactical gear, but . . . damn. We were just standing there.”

            Rodriguez grunted. “You’re charmed, kid. Either he didn’t see you or he didn’t want to risk shooting, knowing we were all there. Come on. Let’s keep going.”

            They continued searching, ending up in the garage. Tom pointed to the hair dryer sitting atop a chest freezer. “What do you think?”

            Rodriguez made a face. “That we need to open the freezer.” He picked up the hair dryer and lifted the freezer’s lid. “Fucking hell.”