CHAPTER ONE
Egan
The hallway was dim, the walls crumbling. Dusty from years of unuse. The mold and decay were all around me. I traced the miles of cable, checking and rechecking every inch. Ensuring the charges were in the correct place, the amount of dynamite exactly as needed to bring down the building in a perfect synchronization of an inward sequence.
As always, I felt the thrill of anticipation. The high knowing all the work, the planning, and the intricate details would soon pay off. Soon, where a tall building once stood, only a pile of rubble would remain.
Hours passed as I did the final inspection. Everything was perfect. I had overseen every detail, calculated and recalculated the explosives.
The building would fall faultlessly.
Outside, I headed to the control area. I was alone, which seemed odd, but I continued. I did one final sweep of the building, finding zero heat sources. I hoped no small animals wandered in at the last moment seeking shelter, but I knew it happened at times. The haven they sought became their final resting place, but better them than a homeless person or a curious onlooker. That had never happened, thank God.
I checked all the cameras, pleased to see them working. The implosion would be captured as the building went down, both inside and outside. I would use it to study, seeing if I could have changed something, if something needed fixing next time, or God forbid, it didn’t explode the way it should have today. But I was confident. Ready.
I looked around as dawn broke. The building would collapse as the sun rose. One life ending as another day began. I felt as if there were some sort of poetic justice.
I flicked open all the controls. Checked the area. Began the countdown over the loudspeakers, that was followed by the warnings. Had the thumbs-up and okays from all the people connected to the project. We were all clear. Far from the building on the edge of the site, some people gathered to watch it come down. They were distant enough to be safe but had a great view as the building collapsed. For some, it was a hobby, watching structures being demolished—their fascination endless. Security kept them from getting too close. I frowned as I looked around, wondering why no one else was on-site with me. Usually, a few people watched from behind the controls, but today, it seemed I was alone. Once I had the final all clear, I pressed the button, the one-minute timer beginning to count down to one.
Something niggled at me, growing in my mind. I felt a sudden swell of anxiety, then one of pure fear, blossom in my chest. I stumbled back from the controls, gasping for air, unsure what was happening. A small light came on, indicating a heat source in the building. Ignoring the crippling agony in my chest, I checked the cameras, shocked to see a person in the building. I zoomed in, terror dripping from my throat as I focused on the face of the woman sitting in a chair in the middle of an empty building.
Sofia.
My Sofia.
How had she gotten there? What was going on?
I pressed the kill switch, horrified when nothing happened. “Get out!” I shouted, pressing it again. “Sofia, my love, get out!”
She stared at the camera, shaking her head. I saw she was tied to the chair, helpless.
She was trapped high in the building, and I couldn’t get to her.
I began to scream her name, desperately hitting the control keys, trying sequence after sequence to stop the explosives from detonating. She looked at me, her lips moving.
“I love you,” she said.
Another voice whispered somewhere around me. “Stop this, Egan. You have to stop this. Only you can prevent this from happening.”
I knew that voice. Quavery and soft, I knew it. But it was impossible.
Then the explosions started, and the screen went black. I fell backward, the pain of the moment overwhelming and intense. It felt as if I had been blown apart in that building with her.
I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, panic-stricken, and on the floor.
My gasping breaths were ragged and filled with fear. I looked around the room, trying to get myself under control.
I was in my apartment. The light in the corner was dim but offered me the security I needed at the moment. I was safe. I was home.
I bolted to my feet.
Sofia.
I grabbed my cell phone, pressing her name, the rings far too long. But she picked up, her voice filled with curiosity. I never called her at work.
“Egan?”
“Sofia,” I gasped out, clutching my hair and pulling on it. “My love, are you all right?”
She sounded impatient. “Of course, I’m all right. I’m at work. What is it? Why are you calling?”
When I didn’t respond, she dropped her voice. “Egan? What’s wrong?”
I lifted my head, brushing away the dampness under my eyes. “I had a dream. I had to check on you.”
“I’m fine. What was the dream about?”
“You—you were in trouble, and I could not get to you,” was all I could say. I couldn’t tell her the truth.
Her voice softened more. “It was just a dream. I’m fine,” she assured me.
“I will pick you up in the morning.”
“Egan, I have my car.”
“Breakfast, then. I will cook for you.”
“Waffles?” she asked teasingly.
“Yes. And decent coffee.”
“Dark water, you mean.”
It was our thing. As a doctor, Sofia was used to the tar they drank in the on-call room. I made good coffee that tasted the way it should, rich and full—not like burned rubber. She teased me all the time. I needed her humor right now.
“You love it, woman.”
“Good God, stop with the caveman shit, Egan. My love, woman,” she snorted. “You know it drives me crazy. I have told you a hundred times, we are friends. Just friends.”
She was wrong there, but I didn’t argue with her.
“I will be waiting.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Try to go back to sleep. Can you do that?” she asked, a note of worry in her voice.
I smiled at the sound of it. Regardless of what she claimed, she cared.
And soon, I would make her admit to it.
“Yes. I will see you shortly.”
I hung up, looking around my bedroom. I had lied—I doubted I would go back to sleep now. The dream had been so real. I had felt the wires under my fingers. Smelled the decay of the building. Felt the almost sexual pull of knowing the rubble my work would produce. It was always a rush.
I had also felt the terror. Hers and mine. Watched helplessly as she died.
I shook my head, reminding myself it was nothing but a dream. One I didn’t understand, but that was all it was.
I ignored the sudden flash of memory of my grandmother back in the old country, who used to dream of things that made no sense. She would pick apart a dream and warn you of things to come. People came from miles around to seek her opinion. She always said I had the same talent. She used to boast to people, because we shared the same birth date, that I had gotten that “gift” from her. She looked forward to watching it develop. She died before we left Romania.
Yet…I had heard her soft voice in my dream.
Hadn’t I?
I stood, dismissing the thoughts. That was all folklore and bullshit, and I had no idea why I’d suddenly remembered it. She had been a sweet old lady who liked to make up stories to entertain herself. I hadn’t thought about it in years. I didn’t believe her then, and I didn’t believe her now.