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But those women were inside and helpless. Hopeless. John couldn’t idly sit by. He was out about twenty feet from the trailer, gun in hand, when the front door opened and Ruby and Whiskey left. Ruby had a big black duffel bag on her shoulder. She tossed it in the back seat and they drove away.
But Greg and Amy, and at least one other man, remained inside.
He covered his mouth and nose as the scent of rotten eggs and cat urine permeated his senses. They were cooking it up in there. He crept closer to the trailer. The windows had been covered with black garbage bags, keeping prying eyes out.
No telling what they might be doing to Amy, especially if they were high. Now or never. He sprinted for the trailer when a huge boom sounded and a whoosh of fire exploded through the back window at the end of the trailer, engulfing it in flames.
John grabbed his phone and growled at the bad reception but got a weak signal and called 911 then circled to the front door and ran up the porch steps. The fire would spread quickly. John had to get in and try to help any survivors of the blast. He slung open the front door, and a scrawny guy with a scruffy beard, panic in his eyes and fire extinguisher hollered, “Who are you?”
“Where’s Amy? Where’s Greg?” Fumes nearly knocked him back, and then Greg appeared inside the kitchen.
“What is going on?” he boomed then coughed, soot on his face.
“Where’s Amy?” John hollered, the flames licking the walls and devouring every inch. The heat grew stronger, and sweat trickled down his temples.
“Who is this?” Scrawny Guy said.
“We got to go! Now!” Greg said. “It’s gonna blow! Richard, leave it. We gotta get out of here!”
“I can save it. I can!” Richard, aka Scrawny Guy, tried in vain to salvage the mess. Greg rushed to him and they fought, Richard cuffing his chin and knocking him backward.
“Greg!” John hollered. “Where is Amy?” He wasn’t leaving without her.
Greg got to his feet, and Richard had run down the hall to the back bedroom.
“She’s dead! She died in the explosion. Move, John!” He bolted out the door, and John followed as a boom deafened his ears, the trailer shook and the impact sent him flying off the porch and onto the ground with a thud that stole his breath and rattled every bone in his body. His vision was spotty, and his hearing was muffled like being underwater.
Richard hadn’t made it out.
Hands wrapped around his shirt collar and yanked him from the ground.
Cursing and hollering spewed. John blinked and regained his senses and his breath. Greg had him clutched by fistfuls of his shirt, his face sooty and eyes furious.
John shoved him backward. “Get your hands off me!”
“Why are you here? How did you even get here?” Greg screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “What did I tell you!” The entire trailer was on fire, and smoked billowed and smothered them. John coughed and the faint sounds of sirens wailed in the distance.
“I came to find out if you were the killer.” He shoved him back. “I saw you with Amy Miller. She didn’t seem too into your groping.” Greg came for him again, but John blocked him. “Keep your hands off me.”
Greg coughed and sputtered. “You think I’m killing women? You think I was forcing myself on Amy Miller?”
“I saw you groping her.” Saw the manhandling. Leading her inside.
“I’m being watched twenty-four seven. You could have blown my cover. Would have if Richard had made it out alive.”
“A man died. All you’re worried about is your cover?”
Greg’s nostrils flared. “Whiskey already suspects someone on the inside of leaking the Swallow to you and that agent with a mouth. I haven’t worked this hard to have you come in and screw it up.”
“I don’t believe you!” John’s fury exploded like the trailer. Greg drove out of the county to meet with John. No one was watching him drink at that bar or withhold information. He was lying. What else had he been lying about?
“Did you kill my wife?”
Greg’s eyes widened then his fist connected with John’s face before he could duck. John swung back, defending himself, and clipped Greg on the chin. Greg hunched like a linebacker and rammed him until he hit the ground again.
Greg reared back, but John caught his fist before the punch landed.
First responders drove up, but John ignored them.
