ABBY HAD TO repeat herself three times before the operator understood what she was saying. When she finally got the message, the operator said that help was on the way. Abby put the phone down and tried to ascertain how Winnen was doing. She heard a crash in the distance but ignored it and concentrated on Winnen.

Not good. She still didn’t see much blood and knew he could be bleeding inside.

“Winnen, medics are on the way. Hang on.”

He moaned. “I can’t. . . . I have to tell you. Phone. Record.”

Abby stared at the man on the ground. She knew what he wanted. She’d asked for such a thing twice in the course of her career. Asked a dying man for a dying declaration. A confession to clear the conscience before death.

She grabbed his phone and searched for a recording app. As she searched, he started talking. “I followed you here. I was going to leave you. But I remembered the funeral. I couldn’t leave. . . . You’re a cop. . . .” He coughed.

“Take it easy, Winnen. I found the app. This is Detective Abby Hart, recording a conversation at the request of J. P. Winnen. Is that what you want, Winnen?”

She put the phone to his mouth and he whispered, “Yes.”

“Did you kill Ciara Adessi?”

“No. It was Chaz.” He collapsed into a fit of coughing, grimacing in pain. “I helped him bury her body. He said it was an accident. I didn’t want an accident to ruin his life.”

He faded out, and Abby checked his pulse. It was weak. She wasn’t going to prod him for more.

She heard footsteps rapidly approaching and looked around for the gun Napier had dropped. There was a flashlight app on the phone, and as soon as she activated it, she saw her gun and leaped up to grab it, pointing toward the sound. A dark figure appeared.

“Abby!”

“How?” It didn’t compute as Abby let the gun lower, pointing at the ground. It was Luke.

“Abby, thank God!” He grabbed her in a bear hug she couldn’t return because her hands were still cuffed in front of her. She didn’t care. She leaned into Luke as the sound of sirens rent the air, and she knew this part of the nightmare was over.

Chaos didn’t completely describe the scene in the storage yard when emergency services began arriving. Winnen was the first to get scooped up by paramedics, but Victoria Napier needed transport as well. It looked as though she’d broken her collarbone. And she barely cooperated with the medics. She was screaming about Stuart. She recognized the Camaro, said Stuart had looked at the car a few days before he shot her, but told her that he didn’t buy it. She was insisting she be allowed to chase him. Abby was convinced that if she had two good arms and legs, she’d have been off and running after Stuart.

Stuart Napier had disappeared. Even though when Luke had checked on him, he’d been out cold, apparently before the medics arrived, he’d run off into the night. But the Camaro bore witness to the fact that Stuart didn’t get off scot-free. The windshield was shattered and there was blood and hair present; he was obviously hurt badly. The local police were coordinating with the FBI on the phone and a police dog arrived to help in the manhunt.

Abby was glad when the ambulance doors were closed and Victoria was gone. But the word obsession rattled her brain. She wondered if she’d looked that maniacal to Luke when she put him on the train two days ago. She watched him handle the emergency responders, explaining everything he knew. Ramrod straight, military posture, and an appealing, confident way about him. Abby knew she loved him and couldn’t for the life of her figure out how she’d let herself be swept in the opposite direction, away from him.

We’re a team. She vowed that they would be again and she wouldn’t let anything come between them, not ever.

Besides Luke, Victoria’s driver was relatively unscathed. The Land Rover’s air bag had protected him. Abby’s wrists were treated on scene, and then a California Highway Patrol officer sent by the FBI to drive Abby and Luke back to the Dancing Purple Grape picked them up. Abby was glad it wasn’t a debate. The FBI had jurisdiction over her debriefing, and she didn’t even mind riding in the back of a patrol car. At least Luke was with her.

But worry for Woody hit her like a punch.

“How is Woody? Did you see him? Did they get that thing off?”

Luke put his hands on her shoulders. “He was fine when I saw him, tired, but the bomb guys believed that IED was stable. He was holding his own when I talked to him.” Luke shared with her what Woody had said about faith.

Sighing with relief, Abby sagged into Luke. “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. Maybe if I hadn’t been so preoccupied, if I’d been more in tune with the task at hand, I would have recognized Napier, stopped him.”

Luke gathered her in a hug. “Abby, don’t blame yourself. Woody doesn’t.”

“You were right. I was blind, obsessed.”

He pushed her back and held her gaze. “Forgiven and forgotten.” He kissed her cheeks as her tears fell.

“But it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been preoccupied, thinking about Mike and Alyssa —”

His kiss silenced her. “No more of the past. Only the now and the future.” His warm hazel eyes held her and she relaxed into him.

The highway patrolman cleared his throat. “I’m ready to go if you two are.”

Abby wiped her eyes as Luke told him, “You bet.”

They climbed into the back of his white CHP cruiser.

“Have you ever ridden in the back of a patrol car?” Luke asked.

“Only with a prisoner,” Abby said, leaning against him. “I can’t imagine what Woody is going through with an explosive device around his neck. He really didn’t mind your prayer?”

“Nope.”

She was about to say something else when the officer driving them interrupted to say he’d received a radio transmission.

“The search dog just caught the fugitive, Stuart Napier,” he said. “Found him hiding in a Dumpster at a gas station.”

“Hallelujah,” Abby said. “Has anyone talked to him? Though I doubt he’ll be cooperative. He said that he would not give anyone the combination to the device unless he was free.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Luke said.

“I don’t have any more information,” the officer said.

Abby closed her eyes. She’d been praying for Woody and didn’t want to stop until he was free of the horrible device. Wisdom, Lord. Wisdom for the bomb techs to take that thing off safely.

Luke held her hand gently. Though wrapped and treated, her wrists were still raw and sore.

“I met the head bomb squad guy, Agent Van Horne. He’s squared away. I trust that he can figure that thing out,” Luke assured her.

The sun was up by the time they arrived back at the Dancing Purple Grape. Immediately they were told that Van Horne wanted to talk to Abby.

As she and Luke walked through the row of official vehicles, she hated it that she and Woody had become victims when they were supposed to be on the other side.

Luke pointed out Van Horne when they reached the operations vehicle. The man might have been an inch shorter than Abby, but she was able to look him straight in the eye. There was an aura of above-average command presence around him as he took notice of them. He reminded Abby of a battle-hardened Marine, complete with the Marine-style haircut.

“Detective Hart, glad to see you made it here in one piece.” Van Horne extended his hand and Abby shook it. “Can you tell us anything that can help us? I’ve been on the phone with the agent with Napier, and the guy has gone silent.”

“He never told me the combination. But he did seem obsessed with a number sequence.” Abby told him about the constant tapping. “Does that help?”

Van Horne shook his head. “Afraid not. I’ve studied the device as best I can, and from what I can see, there are five numbers needed to disarm it. Those three may be a part of it, but I need two more numbers.”

Abby didn’t know what to say. After a minute she found her voice. “I want to see Woody, talk to him, hold his hand.”

Van Horne hesitated. “First, come into the command post with me. I want to show you something.”

Luke and Abby followed him into the vehicle. He led them to the front, where a whiteboard stood. There was a diagram of a device similar to what was around Woody’s neck. And there was an X-ray. Abby could see immediately that it was an X-ray of an object around someone’s neck. Probably Woody’s. They sat in what appeared to be a small planning office.

“You folks ever hear of the Collar Bomber?”

“I have,” Abby said, looking to Luke, who shook his head.

Briefly, Van Horne explained to him about the bank robbery and the man with the explosive device around his neck.

“I was on that case, studied what was left of that very sophisticated IED. There have been a couple of copycats in various places around the world since then. In Australia a similar device was locked around a wealthy girl’s neck. The makers tried to extort money from the girl’s rich parents. Bomb guys got it off.”

He leaned back in his chair, expression pensive. “The device on Woody’s neck is a copy, or attempted copy, but I don’t think it’s as well made.” He pointed to the board. “An IED is basically four parts: a power supply, a trigger, a detonator, and a main charge, the thing that makes it go boom. To disarm it, I need to cut off the power supply, or stop the trigger from activating the detonator, or break the circuit and stop the detonator from providing energy to the main charge. The combination deactivates the power supply.”

“Can you do that another way?” Abby asked.

“I think with this device, stopping the trigger is our best bet. I see a kind of ruse where the combination is concerned. If we did input the wrong number here —” he pointed to the X-ray —“it would go boom.”

“But you can stop the trigger?”

“I believe so. I’ve spoken to Woody about it and he told me to talk to you, that you two were his family. He said that if you agree, he’s okay with me trying.”

Abby stared at Van Horne. She’d prayed for wisdom, for someone to have the ability to make the device safe without the combination. Van Horne knew his stuff, and she saw his confidence. Luke asked the question at the tip of her tongue.

“You’re putting yourself in danger to try this, yes?”

“I’d rather be able to move the device to a safe distance and blow it up. I don’t have that option here. But I’ll be wearing as much protective gear as possible. Unfortunately there isn’t much we can do for Woody. I won’t say this is a piece of cake, but I believe that I can do it.”

Abby looked at Luke, who squeezed her hand.

“It’s okay with me, but can I talk to Woody first?”

“We have him on closed circuit —”

“I want to see him in person.”

Van Horne considered this for a moment. “Okay, it will take me a few minutes to get into my suit, but you can’t be in there when I get to work. I just don’t need the distraction.”

“Fair enough.”

“No hugging, minimal touching. We think the device is stable, but there’s no reason to tempt fate.”

She and Luke left the command post and walked across the road to the manager’s house. Her head spun with the knowledge that it was not even twenty-four hours since she’d first approached this small house, thinking it charming and enjoying the beautiful weather.

What a difference a day makes.

Abby had to steady herself when she walked into the house and saw Woody sitting with his back to the pillar, the horrible device around his neck. She also saw the dog, the one that had greeted them when they first drove up that morning that now seemed like days ago.

“Hey, kid.” He smiled when he saw her and his eyes brightened. “You’re okay! So glad to see you.”

She knelt next to him, grasping his hand. “I am okay, just a little scratched up. I see that you made a friend.”

“Yep, he’s a good dog. He’s kept me company all night. One of the guys told me Napier is in custody.”

“He is. But he won’t give us the combination.”

“I figured as much. But this Van Horne is a sharp guy, don’t you think?”

“I do. I think he can get this off. I told him so.”

Woody gave a slight nod. “Good, then this will be over soon, and this thing will be off my neck.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about me. The last time Luke was here he told me God wasn’t deaf. I took him up on that and we’ve had a good conversation. I’m okay. No matter what happens, I have peace.”

The tears fell and Abby brought his hand to her cheek. “Outstanding. We have to wait in the command post. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Can you do me a favor? Take the dog with you when you go. I don’t . . . Well, just take him.”

He smiled and Abby could see his eyes fill as well. She let go of his hand so Luke could shake it.

Abby called to the dog and for a second he looked uncertain. But Woody told him to go, and he got up and went to Abby’s side.

“We’re still praying for you, buddy.”

They left the little house, and a few minutes later, Van Horne went in wearing a full bomb suit, moving slowly and deliberately. They listened from the command post. He had with him a toolbox, and as he opened it, he said, “I believe I can do this, but there’s still a risk. And I’m not certain how long it will take.”

“Then get started and git ’er done. I’m sick of sitting here staring at the wall.”

Luke grasped Abby’s hand and the two of them bowed their heads. They couldn’t watch because the screen went blank as Van Horne began. She could only trust that God had given Van Horne the wisdom and ability to remove the evil device safely.

She lost track of time and kept her eyes closed until she heard a click and Woody exclaim, “Yahoo!”