“What about them?” she asked, pointing toward Rachel and Eli.

They were still holding each other, surrounded by three officers who were trying to help Rachel to her feet.

“They are safe now,” I said.

“The police have the broadcast.”

“Nobody can touch them with the whole country watching.”

I turned and began to walk toward the shadow of the warehouse, staying out of the direct beam of the police spotlights.

Isabella followed me, her steps silent on the snow.

We reached the edge of the chain-link fence where the wood barrier had been smashed.

The wind was still howling, carrying the bitter cold off the lake.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounded from the engine compartment of the yacht behind us.

A bright orange flare lit up the water as the fuel tank finally caught.

The explosion shook the dock, sending a wave of heat against our backs.

The black water of the slip turned a brilliant, burning gold.

I did not look back.

I kept my eyes on the dark van, my boots crunching through the fresh snow.

I reached the passenger side door and pulled it open.