Page 78 of Freeing Savannah

He glanced up as Secret Service began clearing the presidential box. Agents moved like shadows, coordinated and discreet. The President was gone in under sixty seconds.

An emergency announcement was made and requested everyone to quickly and orderly make their way to the closest exit. It was the only way to get the audience moving and avoid dawdling.

But Voodoo’s attention never left her.

“You did good,” he said, voice low, steady, as he kneeled beside her again. “You held it together.”

“I d-didn’t have a choice,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I d-didn’t know what would happen if-if I moved. I still don’t.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Her eyes shimmered and he noticed her hands shaking harder as she struggled to hold the keys down. “Sawyer . . . there’s a bomb.”

“I know.” He placed a hand gently on her back. “I know. And we’re going to disarm it. Together,” he promised. “Someone find me some tools.”

“On it,” Eggs shouted before taking off into the wings.

Voodoo kept his attention on Savannah. Her fingers were cramping. Her leg trembling from keeping the pedal down so long. She was nearing the edge of endurance.

And the timer on the iPad kept ticking down.

00:17:24

00:17:23

CHAPTER 34

As Savannah’shands held down the piano keys of that last chord, a palpable tension resonated even in her bones. Sawyer crouched down to her level and placed a gentle hand on her knee. Her breath was shallow. Focused. And a single bead of sweat clung to her jaw like a fuse waiting to fall.

“Savannah,” he said gently, “I need you to keep holding those keys down, exactly like you’re doing.”

“I am,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “But my fingers . . . Sawyer, they’re cramping.” It was becoming painful, but she refused to give up. Not just for herself, but for Sawyer. Eggs. Hoot. And anyone else who was still in the building. Letting go wasnotan option.

“I know. I know. Just a little longer.” He leaned in. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve got this.”

She nodded once. Barely.

“Hoot,” Sawyer called. “Get over here.” The man was at their side in an instant. “I need you to get down by her feet. Help her hold that pedal down. That should ease some of the tension for her.”

“Good idea,” Hoot said, sliding his large body under the piano. Through the thin leather of her shoe, she felt Hoot’s large hand helping to keep her foot down.

Standing again, Sawyer peered inside the piano. He’d been around Savannah and had watched Brian work enough times during the course of the tour, so she figured he’d be familiar with some of the inner workings of the instrument.

“What do you see?” Eggs asked.

“Bomb confirmed. It’s tucked under the rack on the left side, low in the sound cavity. Oblong. Wires running across the soundboard to the levers and those hammer things. Under the ones Savannah is holding are microfilament trip sensors. They’ll strike those pads if they drop.” Her stomach turned. She understood what that meant. If she released those keys, the lever would fall, hitting the sensors. Then it would be game over.

“This is real,” she muttered.

“Can you disarm it?” Eggs asked.

“I can try.”

Savannah glanced out into the house. The space was emptying faster now. It looked like law enforcement was coordinating a sweep of the building. Probably looking for more bombs. Secret Service had vanished with the president. The orchestra had dropped their instruments and evacuated the stage as quickly as they could. They had the stage to themselves. Just them. The piano. And the countdown.

00:16:38

00:16:37

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