Mason watched with bated breath as Bill entered the building. He was growing impatient, unable to stand still as he was forced to stand outside. His concealed weapon felt totally useless, hanging under his arm in a leather shoulder holster that had served him well, back when he was allowed to enter such buildings in pursuit of killers.
The officer followed Bill inside, and they were in there for ages. Mason spent this time pacing back and forth, unable to keep his eyes off the front door. Every minute they were inside produced more doubt that they would find anything of worth in there. He began to think this was simply a discarded hideout that he had used briefly while plotting his return. The thought of another dead end mortified him.
At long last, Bill emerged in the doorway. The look on his face offered consolation and sympathy, and that worried Mason further. He shrugged, sliding the sidearm back into its holster and checking over his shoulder for the officer. Mason watched him, his heart in his throat as he gave up on hope that Diane was in there.
Then, the worst happened.
A flash of light came from inside. Every window of the building spewed out a quick, silent blink. A blast erupted behind the bricks. The damage followed. Bill’s body was flung forward as an explosion of fire escaped the house. Brick and dust puffed outward, the overwhelming sense of burning fleeing up Mason’s nostrils as it shoved him into his car. The building collapsed on itself, falling debris missing Bill’s lifeless body by inches while small rocks of brick rained down on his back.
Mason’s ears were ringing, his breath caught in his chest. He suddenly felt weak, unable to stand up straight. All he could bring himself to do was gaze up at the now half-building that Wendell had rented from its owner, while Bill lay dying in the rubble.