Chapter Nine

Zack’s doubts had begun the moment he’d walked out Lucy’s door, and Anthony hadn’t helped any at all with his needling. He knew he’d had a good reason for walking. His feelings for Lucy were screwing up his Me. But she was also the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he was growing increasingly more miserable without her every moment. He’d been dumb. So had she. They were both dumb, but they’d never have any dumb children now because he’d walked out instead of staying to fight.

Or talk.

He’d been at his apartment for several hours, staring at four empty walls and a moth-eaten couch, wondering why he’d never fixed the place up better and kicking himself for leaving a place that was perfect, when the phone rang. If it was Anthony trying to make him feel guilty again, he was going to pay.

Zack picked up the phone and snarled, “What?” into it.

“There’s something wrong with my bed,” Lucy said.

“Lucy?”

“There’s something wrong with my bed. I know it’s stupid, but I’m scared.”

Zack sat down on the couch, his heart hammering. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was going to bed but it just didn’t seem right. And then Heisenberg tried to jump on it, and I hit him.”

Zack’s hand tightened on the receiver. “You hit a dog?”

“I know. I feel terrible. My hand just shot out… I don’t know.”

“Instinct,” Zack said. “You stay away from that bed. I’ll be right over.”


FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Lucy followed Zack up the stairs, still clutching Heisenberg. The relief she’d felt on seeing him had been overwhelming, and for the first time she really began to doubt that there was something wrong in the bedroom. Maybe she’d just done this to get back upstairs with him.

Would she hit a dog to get great sex?

Of course not.

Not if she was in her right mind.

Maybe Zack had made her insane.

If anybody could do it, he could.

Zack stopped at the bedroom door, and Lucy almost bumped into him. “Stand here in the doorway,” he said. “Now what’s wrong?”

She peered in through the doorway and looked around the room. “Nothing. I’m sorry. There’s nothing.”

Zack shook his head. “No. If you hit Heisenberg, there’s something. Take your time. What is it?”

Lucy surveyed the room again. Nothing. It was exactly as she’d left it. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing.” Then her eyes went back to the bed, and she frowned.

“What?” Zack said. “It’s the bed, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It looks the same. It’s just…” She stopped and then she shook her head. “Forget it.”

Zack turned to the phone on the hall landing table. “I’m calling the bomb squad.”

“No!” Lucy stepped between him and the phone. “Riverbend PJD already thinks I’m a flake. You are not calling the bomb squad because I’ve got a funny feeling about my bed.”

Zack jabbed a finger at her. “Hey, don’t knock funny feelings. They’ve saved my life more times than…”

“Yours, not mine,” Lucy said.

“Yours once,” Zack reminded her. “But okay. We’ll compromise.”

“You? Compromise? I don’t believe it.”

“Get a safety pin and a ball of string. And put the dogs in the kitchen.” Zack stepped cautiously into the bedroom. “You sure you don’t know what bothers you in here?”

“Zack, get out of there,” Lucy said with an edge of panic in her voice.

He looked back, interested. “That’s a good healthy instinct you’ve got there, lady. Go get the stuff.”


TEN MINUTES LATER, the dogs were shut in the kitchen, and the end of the string was safety-pinned to a corner of Lucy’s quilt.

“Everything okay downstairs?” Zack asked Lucy when he met her outside her bedroom.

“Yes. Except I hope you didn’t tell Anthony to call. Einstein knocked over the phone again. That’s the second time tonight.”

“Forget the phone.” Zack took a deep breath. “Here’s the deal. Chances are, if it’s a bomb, it needs some kind of pressure to set it off. Like you getting into bed, for example. So, if we pull the quilt off, we should be able to see if there’s anything wrong with bedding underneath. That quilt is so lumpy they could hide damn near anything under there, but the sheets are flat, if there is something there, we call the bomb squad. You with me?”

Lucy nodded. “I’m going to feel really stupid when there’s nothing under that quilt.”

“You’d feel even stupider if you got into bed and there was.” Zack went cold at the thought. “Thank you for calling me.”

“Thank you for coming over,” Lucy said. “I’m scared.”

“Good. Stay scared.” Zack looked at the bed again and then closed the door part way as a shield. “Stay behind me.”

When she moved back, he pulled firmly on the quilt and yanked it off the bed.

The bed blew up before the quilt hit the floor.

Dust whooshed out the partly opened door, and Lucy sat down on the floor, her legs suddenly giving out from under her.

“So much for the it-won’t-explode-without-pressure theory.” Zack slammed the door. “Call 911. Where’s your fire extinguisher?”

The phone rang.

“The closet” Lucy pointed at the next door and then ran to call the fire department.


THE PHONE RANG AGAIN as she got downstairs, and she grabbed it to tell whoever it was to get off the line so she could call for help.

“Get out of the house,” a voice rasped on the other end. “There’s a bomb.”

“What?” she whispered.

“Get out of the house now. There’s a bomb. It’s going to go off. Get out.”

“It already did.” Lucy’s voice returned with her anger. “You creep, it already did. Who are you?”

But the caller had already hung up.

Lucy yelled for Zack as she dialed 911.


THE FIRE DEPARTMENT left when all the random embers in the bed were dead. The bomb squad left after a detailed search of the house for other explosives, making several pointed remarks to Zack about amateurs messing with things they didn’t understand. Most of them stopped to say goodbye to Lucy on their way out, having met her when her car had exploded. It was almost a party.

And Anthony came by to see the mess for himself.

“Well, this is interesting,” he said, looking at the wreckage of Lucy’s bed, and Zack said, “More than you think. Lucy got a phone call warning her about the bomb. After it went off.”

Anthony leaned in the doorway, considering. “He was cutting it awfully fine. The bomb went at around eleven-thirty. A lot of people are in bed by eleven-thirty.” He looked at Zack. “He could have killed her.”

Zack leaned on the doorframe opposite him and shook his head. “That was Einstein’s fault. He knocked the phone off the hook. The guy had probably been calling in a cold sweat for hours.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy said.

“This is the same deal as the car bomb,” Zack said to her. “Nobody’s trying to kill you. The bomb squad said this one was more like a big firecracker. A big firecracker with a hair trigger, but still. It wasn’t meant to hurt you. There’s no point in warning you if he wanted to kill you.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped. “But I could have died!” she said finally. “I almost got into that bed! I don’t care if it was a firecracker. Firecrackers kill people. That was a real explosion in my bed!”

“Well, if there was a fake one, his plan wouldn’t work,” Anthony pointed out. “He’s still trying to scare you out of the house, Luce. The first bomb should have been enough. Remember? We tried to get you to go to a hotel, but you wouldn’t go.”

“So he had to really scare you out this time,” Zack said. “Only the son of a bitch almost killed you. I really hate Bradley. He’s dumb and he’s dangerous.”

“You think Bradley’s doing this?” Lucy shook her head. “No. He knows if he just calls and asks, I’ll give him his stuff back. Everything he owns that he left here is in those three boxes. And he can get in any time he asks. Bradley is not doing this.”

“It’s not in those boxes,” Anthony said. “I’ve been through them. Zack’s been through them.”

“Wait a minute,” Lucy said, ignoring him. “This really makes no sense. He had to get in here to plant the bomb, right?”

“Right,” Zack said. “Which door did you leave unlocked this afternoon?”

“None of them,” Lucy said, outraged. “But that’s not the point. If he broke in here to plant the bomb, why didn’t he just take what he wanted then?”

“Because he doesn’t know where it is,” Zack said. “It’s lost somewhere in here.”

“Oh, come on,” Lucy said. “We’ve been searching this place for days. What could we have missed?”

“I know what I’d like to find,” Anthony said.

“The safe-deposit box key,” Zack said, nodding, and turned back to Lucy. “If the bonds are in a box, and the key is here, John Bradley can’t leave town. He’s shot Bianca, the Bergmans are on their way, looking for blood…”

“Actually, they’re here,” Anthony said.

“…and he can’t get out of town until he gets those bonds.”

Lucy frowned at him. “What safe-deposit box? We didn’t have a safe-deposit box.”

“We deduced a safe-deposit box,” Zack said. “Just like in the movies.”

“The only thing that John Bradley wants to do is get out of town,” Anthony told her. “And the only thing that would stop him would be if he didn’t have the bonds.”

“And the only reason he wouldn’t have them would be if somebody stole them, or he gave them to somebody for safekeeping,” Zack said.

“Bradley,” Lucy said. “He’d never steal, but the safe-deposit box sounds like him. He’s very careful.”