Chapter 13
Kendall
"William Thornfield," I whisper, staring at the text on Morrison's phone. "Valerie's husband is behind all of this?"
"It makes sense," Jax says, already dialing Captain Ramirez. "He owns Sunset Services. Has access to everything Valerie knew, plus the resources Morrison lacked."
The Walking Ladies are still hovering nearby in their ridiculous FBI costumes, but Captain Ramirez approaches with a stern expression.
"Ladies, I appreciate your help today, but this is now an active investigation involving explosives and a dangerous suspect. I need you to go home for your own safety."
"But we—" Gladys starts.
"That's an order," Captain Ramirez says firmly but kindly. "You've been invaluable, but we have SWAT, bomb squad, and both departments here. This is beyond civilian involvement now."
Betty deflates slightly. "Well, if you insist."
"But call if you need us!" Florence adds as they reluctantly head for their car.
"We'll keep you updated," the Captain promises.
As they drive away, I feel both relief and, oddly, a little loss. Their chaos was at least a distraction from the horror of watching Building 3 burn to the ground.
"We need to find William," Jax says. "And Valerie. If he's willing to let her take the fall—"
"She might be in danger too," I realize. "He could eliminate her and make it look like guilt or suicide."
My phone buzzes. Unknown number.
Unknown: Building 3 was just the beginning. You have 24 hours to resign and leave town or the other buildings burn too. Then that lovely facility where you sent Mrs. Parsons. How many residents can you evacuate in time? —W.T.
I show Jax the message. His jaw tightens.
"That's a direct threat. We have more than enough to arrest him now."
"If we can find him," Declan points out, approaching with an evidence bag. "His house is empty. He's gone dark."
Captain Morgan from the arson unit approaches, his face grim. "My team swept Buildings 1 and 2. We found devices in both. Same sophisticated timers as Building 3."
"Can you disarm them?" Captain Ramirez asks.
"Already done. The state bomb squad handled it. But here's the concerning part—these aren't amateur devices. This is military-grade hardware."
"How does a developer get military explosives?" I ask.
"Money," Captain Ramirez says. "With enough money, you can buy anything. And according to the forensic accountants, Thornfield's been moving large sums through offshore accounts."
"He's planning to run," Jax realizes. "This is his exit strategy. Destroy the properties, collect insurance, and disappear."
My phone rings. Unknown number. Jax nods for me to answer while Declan starts a trace.
"Hello, Ms. Greene." William Thornfield's voice is smooth, cultured, completely calm. "I trust you received my message?"
"I got it. The answer's no."
"That's unfortunate. I was hoping to avoid further casualties."
"You mean further felonies? You're done, William. We know everything."
"Do you? I doubt that." He chuckles. "You know what Morrison and my wife told you. Two unreliable witnesses with their own agendas. Nothing ties directly to me."
"Except for the explosives we just found. The ones you paid for."
"Prove it. If you arrest me, my lawyers will have me out in an hour." He pauses. "But you won't get that chance."
"We'll stop you," I tell him, frustration clear in my voice.
"No, you'll be too busy with the fires. I wonder which building will go first. Will it be Building 1 or Building 2? Or maybe the memory facility with that ridiculous goat. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"You resign. Publicly. Tonight. Make a statement that you're leaving due to stress, incompetence, whatever story you prefer. Then actually leave. Tonight."
"And if I do?"
"Then the devices you haven’t found don't activate. Simple."
"What about your wife? Morrison?"
"They've served their purpose as scapegoats—pun intended." He laughs coldly. "Perhaps it'll be a tragic murder-suicide. My wife, overcome with guilt over her affair and crimes, kills her lover and then herself."
My blood runs cold. "You're going to murder them?"
"I'm going to tie up loose ends. You have one hour to decide. Your career and exile, or hundreds of lives."
He hangs up.
"Did you get a location?" Jax asks Declan.
"Burner phone, but the tower ping puts him near the marina."
"He's got a boat," Captain Ramirez realizes. "The Sunset Dream. Hundred-foot yacht."
"We need teams at the marina," Jax says. "And we need to find Valerie before he does."
My phone buzzes. Valerie's number.
"Valerie?" I answer cautiously.
"It's William," his voice comes through, cold and amused. "Using my wife's phone. She's a bit... tied up at the moment."
"What have you done to her?"
"Nothing permanent. Yet. She's become a liability, you see. Too emotional, too sloppy. Did you know she was actually falling for Morrison? Pathetic."
"Where is she?"
"Somewhere safe. For now." I hear muffled sounds in the background—someone trying to speak through a gag. "She wants to say hello, but her mouth is otherwise occupied."
"Let her go. She's your wife—"
"Soon to be ex-wife. Or late wife, depending on how this evening goes.
" His tone is conversational, like we're discussing the weather.
"A murder-suicide would tie things up nicely.
Distraught wife kills her lover, Morrison, while in jail, then herself.
Leaves behind a confession taking responsibility for everything. "
"No one would believe that."
"They would if she's found at the scene of the next fire. Building 2, perhaps. Overcome with guilt and smoke inhalation."
"You're insane."
"I'm practical. Now, I believe you have a decision to make. Your resignation, or more fires. One hour."
The line goes dead.
"We need to find Valerie," I say. "He's got her somewhere, planning to kill her."
"Could be anywhere," Declan says grimly.
Then my phone buzzes with a text from Valerie's number. It's a photo—Valerie tied to a chair, mouth taped, in what looks like a pool house. The timestamp shows it was just taken.
"He's taunting us," Jax says. "Showing us he has her."
"Wait." Declan zooms in on the photo. "That's the country club pool house. See the logo on the equipment?"
"He left her there alone?" I ask.
"Or it's a trap," Jax points out. "He shows us where she is, waits for us to go get her... or that photo is hours old and she's already dead."
"Either way, we can't leave her if she's still alive," Captain Ramirez says. "SWAT will clear it first."
"We need to move," Captain Ramirez continues. "SWAT's ten minutes out, but—"
"We can't wait that long," Jax interrupts. "If William hasn't killed her already..."
"I'm coming," I say.
"No," Jax, Declan, and the Captain say simultaneously.
"She's there because of me. Because of this whole sick game. I'm coming whether you like it or not."
Jax looks ready to argue, but Captain Ramirez nods, recognizing a losing battle. "Stay with the officers. Don't take unnecessary risks."
Twenty minutes later, we're at the country club. The main building is dark—closed for the season—but there's a light in the pool house. Through the grimy window, I can see Valerie tied to a chair. Still alive, thank God.
"No sign of William," Declan reports through the radio. "Thermal imaging shows she's alone."
"This feels like a trap," I whisper to Jax.
"Everything about this feels like a trap." He checks his weapon. "Stay behind me."
SWAT goes in first, fast and professional. Within seconds, they have Valerie and are checking for explosives.
"Clear!" the team leader calls.
We rush in. Valerie's a mess—mascara streaked, clothes torn, duct tape marks on her wrists.
"He's insane," she sobs. "Completely insane. I thought we were just trying to force you out, get the properties condemned. I didn't know about the bombs, the plan to kill people."
"Where is he now?" Captain Ramirez asks.
"The marina. His yacht. He's leaving tonight." She looks at me, and for the first time, I see genuine remorse. "I'm sorry, Kendall. I was jealous, angry about my life, and he used that. Manipulated me."
"We need to get to the marina," Jax says.
"It's covered," Captain Ramirez assures him. "Coast Guard's been alerted. He's not getting out of the harbor."
My phone rings. William again.
"I see you found my wife. How touching."
"It's over, William. Turn yourself in."
"I don't think so. You see, I've had a change of plans. Instead of waiting, Building 2 goes up in thirty minutes unless you're standing at a podium announcing your resignation."
"You said I had an hour—"
"That was before you involved SWAT. Thirty minutes, Ms. Greene. The community center's right next to Building 2. There's a children's event tonight. How fast can you evacuate them all?"
The line goes dead.
"We need every unit at Building 2 now," Captain Ramirez barks into his radio.
"The device was disarmed," Captain Morgan says. "But he could have a backup."
"Or he's bluffing," Declan suggests.
"Can we risk that?" I ask. "With kids there?"
"Get everyone out," Jax orders. "Every building within a three-block radius."
We race back to the property. The next twenty minutes are controlled chaos—police, fire, everyone mobilizing to evacuate.
Parents grabbing children from the community center, and residents fleeing their homes.
And through it all, I keep thinking about William on his yacht, watching his sick game play out.
"Building 2 is clear," Declan reports. "The bomb squad is doing another sweep."
My phone buzzes. Another text from William.
Unknown: Five minutes. I'm watching the news. I don't see you at a podium.
"He's not at the marina," I realize. "He's somewhere he can see the buildings. Somewhere with a news feed."
"His office," Jax says, looking around. "Top floor of the Thornfield Building. View of half the town."
"SWAT's still at the country club—"
Captain Ramirez nods. "Declan, you're with them. I'll redirect SWAT."