Page 31 of Treasured
“Yes.”
I nodded and pressed the button on her car to open the locks.
At first nothing happened, but then my skin grew warm, and I flew back from the force of the explosion.
My shoes pressed against the ground, and I heard Mary scream, “What the—”
I held up a finger as other residents of her building rushed out. I met Mary’s gaze and then inched closer to her but said, “Stay there. I need to check my rental.”
Her face was white and contorted as she pressed Bruce to her chest, but she continued to film me.
Others came out screaming, and I didn’t smell the same thing. Mary put my phone down as others scrambled past her, and she yelled, “I’m going back in with Bruce.”
Good idea. My rental didn’t give me the same sense in my gut, but someone had broken a window. I called out, “I’ll be right behind you.”
In the distance, a siren sounded to let us know help was clearly on the way.
Once I checked the perimeter of the building, I told one of the guys who had said he was army that I was checking on Mary and it was her car. He nodded, and I rushed up the stairs.
Bruce was in tears and refusing his bottle. I didn’t take off my shoes even though they were covered in ash. “What happened?” she asked.
Her eyes were misty and glassy, like she wanted me to tell her something else. I pressed my hand to Bruce’s head, and he calmed down, so I spoke in a soft tone. “Someone tried to kill you and Bruce.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she gave me back my phone. “Arthur left us alone for a year. I don’t know what changed.”
“He saw you with me.”
Tears rushed down her cheeks. Bruce suckled his bottle in her arms, and I whispered to her, “My rental was also touched, but I guess it had better security.”
“Bruce was scared. He could have died.” She hugged her son closer.
“You’re both safe.” I kissed her forehead, and the police sirens grew louder. I told her, “Stay in and keep him calm.” I stood up and ignored how alert and on edge I felt. “The police are here. I’ll invite them up since you’re the car owner.”
She nodded, but her face seemed… empty. She said, “Okay. I need to tell work.”
“They’ll understand,” I said, opening the door.
She called out quietly, “And my brother.”
“Call him over,” I said then let myself out and locked the door.
The police were talking to residents, and I approached one officer. Once he was free to talk, I put my hands behind my back and said, “It was my girlfriend’s car that exploded. She and her one-year-old are safe inside her apartment. The air smelled like sulfur, so I had her take a video when I approached the vehicle to inspect it.”
He took my phone and then showed the other officers. Four of them returned to me, and the one I had spoken to said, “We’re going to need to talk to her.”
“Of course.” I motioned in her direction with my shoulder. “She just wanted her son to calm down. He’s rattled.”
One of the other officers, an older man, nodded and asked, “What service were you in?”
I stood at attention for a moment and said, “I was a SEAL.”
Another man, young and with pitch-black hair, said, “Which means you understand advanced weaponry.”
I didn’t even blink, but I said, “You can ask her for my alibi.”
He tapped his pen to his paper, but all four of them walked up the stairs with me. I unlocked her door, and Bruce was resting on her shoulder.
The older officer asked, “Was that your car?”
