went through his pack, double-checking to make sure he had all the equipment he’d need. Two weeks ago, he’d successfully dismantled the bomb that was found behind the counter at the custard stand. He wanted to believe he’d be able to take care of this latest bomb, too. So far they’d been fortunate that they hadn’t suffered more casualties. Although losing three people after the minimart blast, one cop and two civilians, was three too many.
Declan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When they arrived, the area around the school was vacant. The first cops on the scene had done a good job of getting all the students and faculty as far away from the building as possible. Caleb pulled up to the front door and Declan was the first with boots on the ground, his pack slung over his shoulder.
“I’m going in,” he told them. “Isaac, you and Caleb stay here but keep the lines of communication open. I may need some assistance.”
“Roger that,” Caleb said. “We’ll be ready.”
Declan gave a brief nod before following the cop back into the school. The hallways were lined with coat hooks that were hung at what seemed like dwarf level. Even though he’d gone to school here, the place didn’t look at all familiar now that he was seeing the building through adult eyes. Then again, he hadn’t set foot inside a school since barely managing to graduate from Greenland High ten years ago.
He’d signed up to join the marines and left town a couple of weeks later, without looking back. After completing his six-year commitment, including two tours in Afghanistan, he’d returned home to join the Milwaukee County SWAT team to help support his older sister, Karen, and her young twin daughters.
“Third door on the right,” the cop said, hanging back in a way that made it clear the guy didn’t want to go much farther.
“Thanks.” Declan nodded at him, then headed toward the classroom.
He strode through the doorway, sweeping his gaze over the empty desks, papers and pencils scattered all over the floor. He zeroed in on the slender woman seated at the teacher’s desk. Her long wavy blond hair was pulled back from her face, and when she turned toward him, his gut wrenched with recognition.
“Tess?” He blinked, wondering if he’d made a mistake. But as he came closer, he knew he hadn’t. Tess Collins had been a year behind him in high school, but they’d never really been friends. She was the class valedictorian, while he’d been the town troublemaker. They’d rarely spoken until the night he’d saved her from an assault mere weeks before he joined the service. He wasn’t sure why she wasn’t a doctor the way she’d planned, but there wasn’t time to wander down memory lane.
“Don’t move, okay? I’m going to take a look at this device and see what I can do to get you out of here.”
“Declan,” she whispered faintly. And despite the seriousness of the situation, he was secretly pleased that she’d remembered him, too. “I thought you joined the marines.”
“I did, but now I’m back.” He didn’t want to scare her by pointing out how precarious her situation was, so he chose his words carefully as he gave an update through his radio. “Isaac, this looks to be a homemade device, although it appears the perp stuck a lot of extra wires into it, probably hoping to cause confusion.”
“Roger, Deck. Is there a timer?”
“Affirmative. We have less than twenty minutes and counting.” He knelt beside her and opened his pack. “I don’t want you to worry, Tess. Just stay as still as possible.”
“I’m trying,” she said. “I’ve been telling my students for years to sit still, but I had no idea just how truly difficult a task that really was until right now.”
After taking out his flashlight and peering at the device, he gave Isaac and Caleb more information. “This isn’t the exact same makeup as the device from the custard stand, but I still think it’s the same perp. I’m betting it has basic dynamite inside, along with tacks, just like the last one.”
“Tacks?” Tess echoed in horror.
“Roger that, Deck,” Caleb said. “Can you disarm it?”
“Affirmative.” Declan wasn’t about to say anything else that would scare Tess more than she already was. But the fact of the matter was that the placement of the bomb was ingenious. With it tucked up against the inside wall of the desk, and Tess’s knee pressed against the trigger, his ability to work around the device was severely limited. Their perp was getting smarter and bolder at the same time. Not a good combination.
“I need someone to take the teacher’s place,” he said. “Any volunteers?”
“I’ll do it,” Caleb offered.
“No way,” Isaac said. “You have a wife and daughter depending on you. I don’t have anyone dependent on me so I’ll do it.”
“No,” Tess spoke up. “I’m not switching places with anyone. That’s a waste of time. Just figure out how to shut it down, okay?”
Declan glanced up at her. “Tess, I want you to be safe.”
“I’m not trading places, end of discussion.” Her brown eyes were haunted. “I trust God and I trust you, Declan. We’ll get through this.”
Her faith, even after all this time, was as strong as ever and only proved once again how far out of his league she was. “Negative, Isaac. She’s refusing to leave. Sixteen minutes and counting.”
“I trust you, Declan,” Tess said again.
Humbled by her faith, he wanted more than anything not to let her down. “I’m going to move your chair as far over as possible so I can get closer to this thing, okay?” Deck stuck his flashlight in his mouth and turned over on his back, scooting under the desk. He held the wire cutters and then painstakingly followed the various wires.
Sweat beaded on his brow, rolling down the side of his face. Normally he was glacier cold when it came to disarming bombs. He didn’t mind putting his life on the line to save others. In fact, he figured this weird talent he seemed to have was his calling.
But knowing that Tess would suffer—and probably die if he failed—elevated the tension to a whole new level.
He twisted several of the wires and found the bogus ones, holding his breath as he clipped them and tugged them from the clay inside the box. When he was down to four wires remaining, he wiped his brow with his forearm.
“Five minutes and counting,” Isaac said in his ear.
He didn’t want to think about what Tess was going through right now. She hadn’t said a word as he worked, not even to ask how close he was to disarming the bomb.
“I’ve got four wires left. The rest were decoys,” he informed Isaac. “They’re all the same color, so I have no way of knowing which one is the ground, which one is attached to the timer and which one is the live wire leading to the fuse.”
“You can do it, Deck,” his teammate said. “Go with your gut.”
Normally that was good advice. But not now. Not when Tess was the one who’d die alongside him if he failed.
He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, trying to imagine what the device looked like on the inside. With Tess’s knee pressed up against the trigger, he hadn’t been able to get the casing off to see for himself.
“Three minutes and counting,” Isaac said.
“Dear Lord, please guide Declan,” Tess whispered. “If it be Your will, give him the wisdom and strength to disarm this bomb. We ask for Your mercy and grace, Amen.”
Tess’s prayer caught him off guard, but then again, praying certainly couldn’t hurt. He opened his eyes, and lifted the wire cutters.
“Two minutes, ten seconds and counting,” Isaac told him.
Declan stared at the wires. He grabbed the