"Laurant!" Nick shouted her name as he raced back through the living room. He thought he heard the squeal of tires out front and he stopped at the front door long enough to unlock the dead bolt, but he didn’t open the door because he knew the fresh air would only feed the fire.

Joe had handcuffed Brenner and was trying to get him to his feet, but his prisoner was fighting him every inch of the way.

"Get him out through the front door, but hurry. The fire’s out of control."

"That son of a bitch," Brenner screamed. "That miserable little piece of shit. I’m going to kill him."

Joe pulled Brenner to his feet and shoved him ahead of him down the stairs.

Nick burst into Laurant’s room. She had already put on jeans and loafers and was pulling a T-shirt down over her midriff.

She’d packed too. He couldn’t believe it. The empty overnight bag she’d left on the floor by the closet door was now on her bed and stuffed full. The bathroom door was wide open, and he could see that the counter had been swept clean.

"Let’s go." He had to shout to be heard over Brenner’s screams. "Leave it," he ordered when he saw her reach for the bag. "We’ve got to get out of here. Now."

Ignoring his order, she grabbed the bag and slung the strap over her left shoulder. Then she noticed he was barefoot. She grabbed his loafers and shoved them in the bag on top of the photo album.

That gave her two more seconds to grab his wallet, the car keys, and her purse from the top of the dresser. She was shoving them into the side pocket of the bag when Nick grabbed her. He pulled her tight into his side and half carried her along the hallway and down the stairs. She had a death grip on the strap, and she could hear the bag banging on the steps behind her.

Black smoke rolled up the stairs to meet them. Nick shoved her head down against his chest and continued on.

She heard an unearthly sound behind her, like a dragon wheezing, and then a crackling roar followed. The air conditioner in the dining room window crashed to the floor and exploded. The force was so great the walls shook, and the hardwood shivered beneath her feet. The living room window shattered then, and shards of glass the size of butcher knives shot out onto the porch. The fire hissed and then roared again as it fed on the gust of wind that rushed inside the open doorway.

They made it outside just in the nick of time. Another few seconds and they would have had to climb out one of the bedroom windows. The fire chased them outside, the flames licking at their heels. They stumbled down the steps and onto the front walk, coughing from the inhaled smoke.

She squeezed her eyes shut to try to get rid of the stinging. Nick recovered much quicker than she did. He spotted Wesson leaping out of his car and running toward Joe and Brenner. The agent and his prisoner were standing in the empty lot beside Laurant’s house. Feinberg was still in the car, the motor running.

How had the agents gotten here so soon, Nick wondered. First things first, he thought. He squeezed Laurant. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse from coughing.

She leaned into him, thankful for his strength. "Yes," she answered. "Are you all right?"

"Good to go," he said.

She looked around her in a daze. The entire neighborhood was waking up. Families up and down the street began to spill out of their houses onto their front porches and lawns to watch the fire. She could hear the sirens wailing in the distance. She saw Bessie Jean and Viola standing by the big old oak in their front yard where they had kept Daddy chained. Both ladies were dressed in heavy, fuzzy robes one pink, the other white, that made them look like giant bunny rabbits. Bessie Jean, her hair in pin curls, was wearing an old-fashioned hairnet, the knot she’d tied in the netting hanging down on her forehead. Viola was dabbing at her eyes with her lacy handkerchief and shaking her head as she watched the fire.

Laurant turned back and saw the flames shooting through the roof over her living room. It had been a near miss, she realized then. But Nick was all right, and so was she, without a blister between them.

She watched the fire and thanked God no one had been hurt. Suddenly, the fog lifted and the truth settled. She began to shake.

"Laurant, what’s the matter?"

"You got him. It’s over Nick. The nightmare’s over."

She dropped her bag and threw her arms around him. He held her close. Then he heard her whisper, "Thank you."

"We aren’t going to celebrate just yet. Let’s take this a step at a time."

She looked up at him. "I still can’t believe it. When I heard him shouting at you in the hallway, I recognized his voice and I knew it was Steve, but I just couldn’t put it together in my mind. I was so shocked." She took a deep breath and tried to be more coherent. "You told me he was a suspect, and you were right all along."

She couldn’t stop trembling. Impatiently wiping the tears away with the back of her hands, she remembered the man on the roof. "There were two of them," she said. "Yes, two," she repeated.

"The other man was Lonnie. He started the fire."

"Lonnie?" She didn’t know why she was stunned to know the sheriff’s son had been involved. Brenner had obviously been the brains. He had been the one to plan the nightmare from start to finish.

Nick was looking around for Lonnie. Where the hell was he? He should have been cuffed by now with at least one agent on him.

Willie and Justin came running across the street to help. Justin immediately went to Bessie Jean’s yard to turn on her garden hose to try to contain the fire. It was pitifully inadequate.

Nick pulled Laurant toward Wesson. The agent was talking on his phone.

"I got him, sir. I certainly did, and as soon as I get the warrant, I’m positive I’m going to find more evidence to nail him."

"I got him?" She repeated Wesson’s boast to Nick.

"Yeah, I heard what he said."

Joe had obviously also heard. He was glaring at Wesson, letting him see his hostility. The agent in charge ignored him and continued to speak into his slick, palm-size phone. Wesson could barely contain his enthusiasm.

"By the book, sir. That’s how I got him. And for the record, instinct didn’t have anything to do with the apprehension. It was careful planning and following through. No, sir, that wasn’t a criticism of your methods. I’m simply telling you that it was hard work and not anything else."

The fire truck barreled down the street, the siren blaring. Feinberg moved his car out of the way of the fire hydrant and parked it in front of Bessie Jean’s house, then got out and ran over to Joe. Like everyone else, he watched the blaze.

Volunteer firemen wearing yellow slickers and hats jumped from the truck and raced to hook up the hoses. The driver turned off the siren and then shouted, "Is everyone out of the house?"

"Everyone’s out," Joe shouted back.

Nick was seething inside. He swore that if Wesson didn’t get off the damn phone in the next five seconds, he was going to rip it out of his hand and beat the hell out of him if that was what it would take to get some answers. Where was Lonnie? And where were the agents who were supposed to be watching the house?

"Laurant, I want you to get in the car and stay there. I’ll move it onto the street," he said as he grabbed her hand and pulled her

She could hear the anger radiating in his voice. He was still acting as though he was supposed to protect her and she couldn’t understand why. They had caught Brenner, and they knew who his accomplice was.

"Nick, it’s over." Maybe it hadn’t sunk in yet. Yes, that was it, she thought. "You did it. You and Joe got him."

"We’ll talk about it later," he said curtly as he reached down and picked up the bag.

When they reached the car, he muttered, "Ah, hell, the keys."