Page 2 of One Final Target

Momentum from Tiny’s toss propelled her across the yard, but Jodie couldn’t flee.I have to save my friends.

Catching her breath, she rolled to her feet and pivoted to go back in—too late. The horrific boom of the blast obliterated Tiny’s yells and exploded chaos in Jodie’s frantic thoughts. A punch of hot air, much stronger than Tiny, lifted her from the ground as if she were a rag doll and pitched her across the yard again.

Jodie’s stomach lurched, her eardrums popped, and pain screamed up her right arm as it took the full force of her landing, the thin layer of snow doing nothing to cushion her fall. All around, the sky rained flaming debris. Scrambling to her left side, she pushed herself to her knees, ignoring the bits of jagged glass abrading her palm.

The house she’d just been inside became a fireball.

Heat hit her face in a wave, and Jodie watched in horror as angry flames consumed the house and her coworkers. Staggering to her feet and holding her good arm in front of her face to shieldit from the heat, she stumbled toward the inferno, screaming for Tiny, Gus—anyone.

Voices clamored behind her.

“Sergeant King, get back, get back!”

Someone grabbed her.

“My guys! They’re still in there.” She tried to pull away, but the arms were strong.

“No one could have survived that blast,” the voice said as the man dragged her back.

Another explosion rocked the house, and a wave of searing, noxious heat rolled over them.

The foul smoke from the burning log home brought hot tears that stung her eyes. Coughing and fighting, Jodie could not prevent herself from being dragged to safety. The paramedics forced her behind the waiting ambulance as fast-approaching sirens from alerted fire personnel drowned out her complaints. A swirling cloud of black smoke snaked across the cloudy sky, smearing it like ink.

As darkness closed in, one thought ran through Jodie’s mind:How did something so routine go so horribly wrong?

CHAPTER2

THREE MONTHS LATER

“A memorial plaque and four blue spruce pines, dedicated to your team.”

Jonah Bennett meant well by offering to plant a memorial to the dead somewhere on the mountain, but when Jodie parked her car and stared at the still-desolate square footage where they’d lost their lives, realization dawned—she’d have to say no to the offer. At least for now. A memorial honored something that was finished, over. Nothing about the case was over for Jodie, not by a long shot.

She got out of the car, a shiver running through her when the cold wind assaulted her face. Who knew it was cold in hell?

She knelt in front of the charred foundation, unsteady, nearly bowled over by the intensity of the emotion vibrating through her. Coming back to the scene hurt more than she’d imagined it would.

Fueled by a busted gas line and open propane tanks, the fire had obliterated the house. A black smudge on the ground pierced Jodie as a sharp reminder of all she’d lost.

Jodie was no stranger to loss, having been orphaned at eight. As devastating as losing her parents had been, she survived. Now, losing her team made her feel orphaned all over again. More than Jodie’s arm and wrist had broken because of the blast. She felt as if she were Humpty-Dumpty, broken in pieces by the memories hounding her day after day. Surely no one—not all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men—could put her back together again.

But God.

Those two words gave Jodie comfort and stabbing pain at the same time. With all her heart, she believed God was present and in control. Yet she could not climb out of the pit she found herself in. The valley walls surrounding her kept her from God’s line of sight.

A cold wind sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. She hugged her arms to her chest when an eerie snapping sound drew her gaze to the lot boundary. The remnants of yellow crime scene tape popped and cracked as it twisted in the frigid breeze.

Closing her eyes, she saw the fire, smelled the acrid smoke, and grieved for her lost teammates and friends. Tiny appeared in her mind’s eye, bloodied and charred, expression accusing.

“You let us down, Chief.”

She jerked to her feet, running her palms across her cheeks to wipe away the tears, as grief threatened to overwhelm her. Would the tears ever stop? For a few minutes she stood still, hoping her legs didn’t give way beneath her. When her thoughts cleared, she hugged her arms to her chest as tight as she could, wishing she’d wake up from this nightmare.

Even in her grief and pain, Jodie wanted to move from this place, this mire she found herself in. She just didn’t know how. She had tried. After the last funeral, days morphed into weeks, weeks into months. Slowly, feeling as if maybe time helped ease the heavy crush of pain and loss, she’d resolved to take steps forward, to return to the land of the living. The removal of her cast signaled it was time to go back to work. She tried.

Two weeks ago, while still in physical therapy for her wrist, she accepted an administrative position. Jodie sat at a desk reviewing arrest reports. She lasted only a week before turning in her badge and filing for early retirement, against the advice of her friends and the department psychologist.

Her team had been multijurisdictional. Gail hailed from Seal Beach PD, Tim from El Monte PD. Gus and Tiny were from her department, and the station seemed filled with ghostly memories: Tiny working out in the basement gym. Gus boasting about the retirement home he had planned. Gail pretending she didn’t notice Tim was sweet on her and working up the courage to ask her out.

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