CHAPTER 83
I’M SITTING ON MY back steps, holding Willow tight.
She’s still in her pj’s, her head buried in my chest.
The smoke has mostly cleared. But horrible smells hang in the air. Yellow tape runs all around my yard.
My home, my castle, my refuge.
Now a crime scene.
The street is jammed with fire apparatus, police cruisers, a bomb squad truck, and a bunch of unmarked vehicles with flashing lights in their radiator grilles.
And a coroner’s van.
I didn’t watch when they took her out of the car. I couldn’t.
I’m thinking about the way she was last night. Sitting at the picnic table right over there. Smiling, laughing, watching our kids play.
In a little while, I’ll have to go to Anna’s house and tell her two beautiful children that their mom isn’t coming home. Not ever.
“John! John!”
I look up. Bree Stone is just outside the yellow tape.
I stand up and wave her through. She comes over, gives me a quick hug, then wraps herself around Willow.
“Aunt Bree,” Willow says, sobbing. “It was so scary.”
Bree squeezes her tight. “I know, I know. But you’re safe now. I promise. Why don’t you go upstairs, get your clothes and your backpack, and come home with me again, okay? Nana Mama misses you already. Ali and Jannie too.”
Willow looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Is that okay, Daddy?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
An officer comes over and escorts Willow into the house.
Bree gives me another hug, a longer one this time. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Not true. “Thanks for coming over.”
“I came the second I heard.”
She looks at the mangled mess in my driveway, a charred hulk with a huge hole underneath. “John, what happened here?”
“It was an IED. Planted in the driveway sometime last night. It was meant for me, Bree. I would have tripped it when I backed out of the garage this morning.”
“Dear God.” We both know this is clearly connected to the other bombings. Bree glances back at the car. “Do you know who the vic is?”
“Anna. Anna Rizzo. She was an investigator with ATF. We’ve been working closely together, got along really well. She was a good person. Mother of two.”
“I’m sorry,” says Bree. “Really sorry. Let’s get Willow out of here.”
“I’m ready, Aunt Bree.” Willow walks up, her extra-heavy backpack over her shoulder.
“Okay, sweetheart,” says Bree. “Let’s go see what Nana Mama has cooked up for breakfast.”
Willow steps up and gives me a big hug. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, Willow. More than anything.”
I watch the two of them walk off together. Willow gives me one last wave before she disappears behind a fire truck.
I sit back down on my steps and put my head in my hands. Blood from my nose is drying on my shirt. And Anna’s blood is still on my fingers.
“Sampson! Hey! Sampson!”
Somebody’s shouting at me from the street. A familiar voice.
I look up.
He’s coming up the driveway, past the yellow tape.
Shit.
Not him.
Not now.