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Penny grimaces. “No. Someone saw smoke in there.” She pauses, gnawing on her lip. “I can’t believe it. I hope the books aren’t all ruined.”
“Where’s Thea?” Tension strains my voice. “I don’t see her.”
Her eyes widen, brows jumping up. “I… I don’t know. I thought she was out here.”
My heart rolls over, a boulder speeding downhill. “Could she be out back?”
“She could. But—”
Danielle joins us, worry darkening her eyes. “She should be here by now. All the employees are supposed to meet out front.”
In eerie synchrony, we all glance to the side of the library, searching for Thea. But it’s an empty expanse of grass and pavement.
“The fire trucks should be here soon,” Danielle offers, but it’s more question than statement. “The fire department is supposed to be called automatically whenever the alarms go off.”
But they aren’t here yet. And neither is Thea.
Fear drapes over me, heavy and suffocating. And a terrible sense of knowing.
There have been a few times in my life when I was absolutely certain of something without needing proof. The patient who wasn’t having an allergic reaction but a heart attack instead. The stairs that were about to collapse even though they looked stable.
Thea’s in trouble. I know it. And I need to do something right now.
Glancing back at the library, I take stock.
Wisps of smoke are curling through one of the open windows, a dull, orange glow beyond. Red lights flash from behind the glass doors. Sirens approach in the distance, but they’re still minutes away. Minutes to get here, and more still to assess. For the firefighters to unroll the hoses and form a plan of attack.
More precious minutes for them to get inside, to find the woman I’m sure is still inside.
The woman I love.
I can’t stand here waiting. Not while Thea is inside, trapped, possibly in pain, struggling to breathe…
There’s no time to waste.
Already running toward the entrance, I toss over my shoulder, “I’m going in!”
An older female voice shouts from behind me, “You can’t go in there! It’s not safe!”
A man runs alongside me and grabs my arm, tugging. His tone is stern and scolding. “You need to wait for the firefighters. You can’t go in there yourself.”
I snarl at him. “Don’t touch me,” and I yank my arm out of his grasp. He recoils, his face jolting with shock.
If he tries to stop me again, I’ll knock him out. No one is stopping me from getting inside.
Just as I’m about to reach the entrance, an older woman calls out, “There’s a fire extinguisher past the checkout desk. On the right side.” I whip my head in her direction for less than a second, but long enough to identify the source. Mrs. Plimpton.
“Be careful!” she adds. “Stay low!”
I’m running full-speed, barely slowing as I shove open the glass doors and burst inside. Then I freeze in place, assessing.
A thin haze of smoke fills the main entrance area. It’s not thick yet, mostly hovering by the ceiling, but rapidly increasing. Beyond the checkout desk, the smoke in the adult non-fiction section is heavier. Darker.
A flickering glow comes from the right, accompanied by the sound of crackling and snapping. The source of the fire. Or at least, one of them.
And the direction of Thea’s office.
Oh, God.
