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Commercial Box 13-3. Engines 131, 112, 104, 201 Truck 30, Truck 13, Medic Unit 11, Battalion Chief 2 respond for a commercial building fire, reported explosion, at 8503 Magothy Beach Road. Cross streets of Clover Hill Road and Riviera Drive. Respond hot on Echo—
There was more, but Hannah didn’t hear the rest.
Commercial building fire. Reported explosion.
Magothy Beach Road.
She knew almost every road in this part of the county, right down to where each fire hydrant was located. She knew Magothy Beach Road like the back of her hand, and there weren’t a lot of commercial buildings.
Except the Roadhouse.
Right where Michael was meeting someone about a job.
Her phone was pressed against her ear before she realized she had dialed.
Answer. Please. Answer.
It didn’t even ring. Straight to voice mail.
She looked at his last text.
Meeting someone at the Roadhouse at 7.
It was now seven-twenty.
She tried to call him again.
“Pick up,” she whispered. “Pick up.”
“Hannah,” said her mother, her voice concerned. “Hannah, you’re white. What is it?”
Right to voice mail again. Irish was getting his coat from the front closet, calling his thanks for dinner. Her father was already on the phone, saying he’d be there in fifteen minutes, making notes on a small pad with details he’d never repeat out loud.
Hannah looked at her mother. “Can you watch James until I get back?” She didn’t even wait for an answer, just pushed away from the table. “Irish! Wait!”
He stopped with the door halfway open. “Blondie?”
“But—Hannah—” Her mother was on her feet. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to help.”
CHAPTER 12
Even with lights and sirens, it seemed to take forever to get to Magothy Beach Road. Hannah was torn between keeping her eyes fixed on the controls inside the fire truck and looking out the window to see how bad it was.
Then Irish said, “Jesus,” under his breath, and she didn’t have a choice. She looked.
Half the building was gone. She didn’t see much actively burning, but smoke plumed from the remaining structure. Several cars bore heavy damage, and almost none in the lot had escaped the flying debris. Fire trucks lined the road and the edge of the property, along with ambulances and half a dozen cop cars. She saw a lot of people in uniform or firefighting gear.
She didn’t see anyone who looked like they’d survived an explosion.
She checked her phone again. She’d called six more times during the ride to the firehouse with Irish. No response from Michael.
“He’ll be all right,” Irish said quietly. “You don’t know if he was still here.”
“I don’t even know if his brothers are with him.”
“Can you call them?”
