Detecting Danger. Valerie Hansen

of us is happy to be working tonight.”

      “Yeah. I’m sure glad we have you and the rest of the K-9 team on call. My men didn’t have time to do a proper sweep of this area. By the time we got the word about the congressman’s impromptu press conference, we only had an hour to deploy.”

      Isaac nodded. “Not to worry. If Abby says there’s no bomb on the grounds, it’s safe. You can trust her.”

      “I do,” Delvecchio replied.

      Curious tourists were gathering outside the police line, milling around and straining to get a peek at whoever was the center of attention. Politicians and their aides in dark business suits stood out against the colorful garb of the bystanders as Secret Service agents would have at a three-ring circus performance.

      Isaac was about to withdraw to his SUV and wait to be released when he noticed his dog stiffen and ease to her feet. Since he had not given the command, her independent actions drew his attention.

      “Abby?” He crouched, following the beagle’s line of sight. She was clearly focused on the small group nearest to the congressman. “What is it, girl?”

      Instead of relaxing, the dog froze in place, her hackles bristling. Her nose quivered. Her tail was half-raised and still. If they had not just completed a search of the premises Isaac would think...

      He stood and grabbed the detective’s sleeve. “Pull everybody back. Clear the area. Now!” Isaac’s commanding tone left no doubt of his seriousness.

      “Why? What do you see?”

      “Nothing,” Isaac said. “But Abby senses something’s wrong and that’s good enough for me.”

      Delvecchio was already shouting into his radio. Patrol officers immediately began to shoo bystanders farther away from the monument.

      Isaac moved forward with Abby. “Seek it, girl. Seek it.”

      They didn’t have far to go. The little beagle cut straight across the inner circle, zeroed in on a briefcase leaning against the base of one of the concrete benches that ringed the obelisk and plunked down into a sit.

      “I have a suspicious object on the west side, at about two o’clock from the police staging area,” Isaac reported via the com-link.

      His new orders followed in moments. “Secure the area and pull back to a safe distance. Bomb squad is on its way.”

      “Copy.”

      He scooped up his dog, checked to make sure no one else remained nearby and would be in danger, then began to jog away.

      As he ran, time seemed to slow unnaturally. His feet weighed a ton, making him feel as if he were slogging through cold molasses.

      Tension grew with every step, pressing against him and making his heart pound.

      Abby was trembling as though she sensed impending doom.

      Suddenly, a concussion rocked the atmosphere. Isaac saw the flash through his closed eyelids an instant before he heard the blast.

      Instinct made him hunch over his dog’s body to protect her as he was knocked to his knees by the force of the explosion.

      Most of the debris it created fell like fistfuls of tossed pebbles, but a few chunks of concrete were heavy enough, large and jagged enough, to do damage.

      One piece grazed his shoulder. Another hit the back of his lower leg. Both stunned him rather than caused immediate pain.

       How could this have happened? Abby is never wrong.

      Which meant that the bomb had to have been placed there after he and the dog had made their rounds. That fact should narrow the list of suspects considerably.

      Propping himself on one elbow with the other arm gripping his wiggling partner, Isaac tried to blink the grit from his watering eyes. Gray, cloudy residue filled the air. People coughed and wheezed. Many were in full flight while a few others had paused with cell phones to take macabre pictures of the chaos.

      Isaac rolled into a sitting position and brushed himself off. He first checked to make sure Abby was all right, then peered back toward the source of the blast to check for casualties.

      “Please, God,” he prayed, “let my warning have been in time.”

      He rubbed his smarting eyes on the sleeve of his uniform jacket. It looked as if there were some injuries but the apparent victims were all on their feet. A few were reeling and being assisted by police and friends. Others appeared merely stunned. A cacophony of horns and sirens filled the night.

      Ears ringing, head spinning, Isaac knew what he must do. There was no time to waste. Where there was one bomb there could easily be another. And another.

      He wanted to lie back on the cool grass, close his eyes and wait for full recovery of his senses, but that was not how he and his fellow K-9 officers operated. The public came first. He’d tend his wounds later. As long as Abby was all right, they’d keep doing their job.

      Isaac tightened up on the leash, struggled to his feet and took a step forward. His calf muscles knotted.

      Intense pain radiated from his boot to his hip and dropped him where he stood.

      * * *

      The flow of patients through the ER at DC General Hospital had been surprisingly sparse for a balmy spring evening. Daniella Dunne stifled a yawn and smiled at a fellow RN who was also battling to stay alert.

      “Every time we have a slow night I wonder why I like this shift so much,” Daniella remarked.

      “Because you crave adrenaline just like the rest of us,” the older woman replied. “When this place starts to really hop we all feel a lot more alive.”

      “I suppose you’re right.” As far as Daniella was concerned, staying awake half the night was profoundly better than working days when so many more reporters and photographers were liable to be on the job. The last thing she needed was to become an unwilling star of some viral video. She’d matured and changed her hair color from blond to brunette, long to shorter, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be recognized by the same criminal element that had caused her to enter witness protection in the first place.

      “Prepare for casualties,” someone shouted. “There’s just been an incident at the Washington Monument!”

      Daniella froze for a heartbeat, then jumped to her feet and hurried down the hallway to the ambulance receiving area, where the majority of the night shift was gathering around a police scanner.

      “Was it an accident?” one of the young orderlies asked.

      “Doesn’t sound like it. The first responders pegged it as a bomb,” someone else answered.

      Daniella clenched her fists. Her stomach churned. She suddenly saw herself as a frightened teenager again and pictured her father being arrested for the bombing death of her mother. Ten long years had passed since then, yet those terrible memories were as vivid as if everything had just happened.

      Her initial disbelief about her mother’s fate had quickly been supplanted with righteous anger, especially when she’d heard her estranged father begin to laugh. Laugh! And so she had done the only thing she could. She had mustered her courage and agreed to testify against him in court.

      While most of the ER staff remained gathered around the scanner, Daniella eased away and headed for the hospital chapel.

      Until the victims of this current attack arrived for treatment, the best thing she could do was pray. Fervently. The way she had prayed for her mother—even though she’d known in her deepest heart that Mama’s survival was impossible.

      * * *

      Being incapacitated made Isaac frustrated and angry. He’d repeatedly waved off paramedics, sending them to tend to others. As the area was systematically cleared, however, he realized he was eventually going to have