“Sure, boss,” I said and raised my hands. “No problem.”

  He snorted and drove off down the Willow Path in the direction of the explosion.

  I watched him disappear from sight, then I turned and raised my arms above my head, waving three times toward the truck, where Warman and Tobin stood. Three waves was the signal to load up and get clear, and Warman answered with one of his own, conveying that he’d received the message. We hadn’t had much time to rehearse, but I’d estimated they’d be gone in sixty seconds. Hopefully we would follow not long after. But in order for that to happen, we needed to get a move on.

  “Come on,” I told Auggy. “Clock’s ticking.”

  The White Oak. Friday, August 7th 0705hrs.

  I dumped the water tank, tossing it into the grass alongside the sprayer before shaking the backpack free and slinging it over my shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  The two of us took the entryway stairs at a fast run, halting beside the glass double doors. We tried the handle, but it was locked. Evidently, Skarrson wasn’t as distracted as he’d seemed. Or maybe the doors locked automatically behind him. I couldn’t say either way, and it didn’t matter.

  The alarms were going off inside, no doubt set off by the explosion, but it wasn’t so loud that I didn’t hear Auggy yell, “Sergeant!” from behind me.

  I turned as he drew back his arm and hurled the wooden haft of the rake into the right door. The glass shattered, the logo and hours of operation vanishing as large shards crashed down around our feet.

  “Thank you, Auggy.”

  I went first, and as I passed through the door, I was struck by a weird feeling. It took me a moment to recognize it for what it was.

  My hands were empty.

  How long had it been since I’d raced through a doorway without having my gun drawn? A year, give or take? Granted, I had my pistol holstered on my hip, angled to conceal it beneath my gardener’s uniform, but it felt strange not to have it in hand.

  Which wasn’t a great sign.

  There’s an affliction among law enforcement officers that we rarely speak of. It affects veteran officers, usually those near the end of their career. They start suffering bouts of anxiety, even panic attacks, whenever they’re unarmed.

  It can be subtle at first. Maybe they start patting their gun more often than before. Silent little reassurance to tell themselves that it’s still there. Then maybe they start forgetting to take it off. Wearing it around the house, even at the dinner table. Next thing you know they’re putting it on to go work in the garden, or to run the trash cans down to the end of the street. It’s a fast-progressing affliction, and it rarely ends pretty. The realization caused the muscles in my chest to tighten, but I shook my head and told myself to focus on the task at hand.

  We stepped through the broken doorframe directly into the Visitor’s Center. Plexiglass cases with miniature dioramas of the park lined the wall, along with stacks of shelves containing pamphlets, books, and a variety of tourist mementos. Two hallways led out of the room. The first led directly into the administration offices. The second dead ended at a nondescript door.

  “Which way?” I asked.

  Auggy motioned toward the second hallway, and we made our way over to the nondescript door. It was locked, but the building was aged, and two swift kicks broke the frame and sent it crashing inward.

  Auggy stepped through the broken frame, and I followed him deeper into the building, passing through a pair of hallways before finally coming to a halt beside a locked door with a “Staff Only. No Unauthorized Admittance” sign on the door.

  “In here,” said Auggy.

  This door was sturdier, and it took the two of us kicking in unison for several seconds before the frame shattered and the broken lock tumbled to the floor. The door swung open to reveal the Arboretum’s private museum.

  The room was roughly the size of an upscale jewelry store, and the air smelled of wet soil, wild grass and lemon. Tall, vertical display cases occupied every wall, housing botanical specimens pressed onto cream-colored backdrops. A dizzying array of flowers and petals stretched out before me, each sample bearing a small placard containing their names and nationalities in neat serif type. Soft lighting glowed from specialty lights overhead, calibrated to protect the more delicate specimens. To my left, blooming orchids occupied the entire wall, their long stems frozen forever in bloom alongside terracotta vases and waist high display drawers containing samples of moss and lichens, their bodies ranging from old silver to deep forest green.

  There was an untamed beauty to the room. A combination of science and life that struck a chord deep inside. I could see why they reserved the room for potential donors. There was a sense of something bigger than oneself. A depth of history and life that had to be viewed in order to be understood.

  Beyond the walls, freestanding display cases ran along the center of the room, housing the larger samples, including a couple of trees that I didn’t recognize, and one that I did.

  Sitting just past the halfway mark of the room was a square display case containing a section of tree roughly the size of a serving platter seated atop a blue velvet cloth. Part of its edge was blackened and charred, extending from the bark to the sapwood, but halting before it reached the pith in the center. The remaining three-fourths contained a coarse, strong, grainy texture.

  A hand drawn canvas print stood on a three-legged easel, displaying an artistic reimagining of what the tree would have looked like in its prime. It sat proud atop a sloping hill while settlers gathered near its base. I double checked the nameplate then drew in a breath and nodded. “Bingo.”

  “How are you going to get it out without damaging it?” Auggy asked, frowning at the case.

  I lowered the zipper of my gardener’s uniform and drew Warman’s Blade from my belt. “By being very careful.”

  Most people never learn to appreciate the versatility of a good knife. Warman’s was far and away the best I’d ever owned. Stainless steel with a contoured rosewood handle, the blade felt warm under my hand, but I told myself it was just the heat from my own body where it had been crammed under my uniform. I gripped it lightly in my palm, and very carefully began to cut.

  As I worked, the alarms continued to blare around us, leaving my ears throbbing. I kept the pressure steady and worked my way down an inch at a time, careful not to press too hard. In an ideal world, I would have had time to score the glass’s surface in order to ease the cuts. That wasn’t the case though, and I was forced to rely on the blade itself.

  Warman had never let me down and today was no different. At the end of the first cut, I shifted to the opposite side of the case, adjusting my angle to form a large L shape.

  Auggy bounced beside me, casting a quick glance behind him before peering down at his watch. “Uh, Sergeant?”

  “It’s coming,” I said through gritted teeth. Warman’s blade was as sharp as steel could get, but it still took time. I could feel every second slipping away as if someone had hit fast-forward on my life. I tried not to think about the alarm, or the fact that, by now, the cavalry was certainly on its way. I just needed to focus long enough to—

  The tip of Warman’s blade reached the opposite end of the case, and I drew it back and let out a heavy breath. “Okay, give me the cups.”

  Auggy nodded and drew two suction cups out from his pocket. They were the heavy-duty kind used to pull dents out of cars. I applied one to the edge of the glass, while he did the same on his side. “On three,” I said.

  We counted down, and when I reached zero we pulled up as hard as we could. The glass snapped with a heavy crack, the sudden break sending the sheet up as if a rubber band had snapped.

  But it didn’t shatter.

  The break in the glass was clean, and we laid the cut section gently on the floor before turning back to the case.

  The smell of aged wood rose from the opening, and I handed Auggy my empty backpack and pulled the folds wide. I didn’t know much about aged trees, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I seized the ends of the blue fabric holding it in place and folded them over the tree’s body, lifting it out of the case the way you would a newborn infant. I slid it down into the bag, then zipped it closed. Auggy slid it over his shoulder and tightened the straps.

  “Alright,” I said. “Time to—”

  The door along the far wall burst in before I could utter the word “go.” It hit the opposite wall with a loud crash, and footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. My heart skipped a beat as I whirled, fully expecting to see the police or Skarrson standing there with guns drawn.

  Instead, the figure standing there was dressed in raggedy cargo pants with an oversized gray jacket. Thin, with elongated, spidery limbs, I couldn’t see their face on account that they had their hood drawn up and a mask covering their features, but I could smell them as soon as they entered the room. An old, musty, mildewy scent clung to their clothes, like rainwater coalescing around a sewer drain. What little skin I could see was pale, sickly, and there was a yellowish tint to their eyes, surrounding widened pupils.

  “Uh, who the heck are you?” Auggy asked.

  I knew who they were, but I barely had time to yell out a warning before they raised their crossbow and fired.

  My hands hit Auggy in the chest and sent him down to the floor. He angled his body at the last second, turning to avoid damaging the White Oak in his backpack, and the crossbow bolt flashed between us, striking the display case against the far wall, shattering the glass and likely destroying the specimen inside.

  I hit my knees and reached toward my zipper even as my mind told me I wouldn’t have time. My gun was holstered on my person, but I knew firsthand how fast the shooter was. I’d seen them, back in Worcester, taking shots at Tobin and I as we’d struggled to get Milo to safety. If I went for the gun, I’d be dead, or at least severely bleeding, before it cleared the holster. I needed another option, and fast. Lucky for me, one presented itself.

  I threw myself to the opposite side of the display case even as the crossbow fired again, sending a slicing bolt the size of my forearm into the space I’d just been. Fear shot through me, but I didn’t have time to swallow it down. Instead, I grabbed the section of cut glass, gripped the two separate suction cup handles and lifted it up into the air. The shooter was in the middle of reloading, and their eyes widened as I turned and hurled the glass across the room. I heard a hissing curse, and they dropped, rolling beneath one of the display drawers as the section of glass crashed down and shattered, sending broken shards in every direction.

  “Run Auggy!” I screamed.

  Auggy was still on the floor, so I seized him by the arm and lifted him to his feet. I spun him around, gave him a push, and the two of us raced out the same door we’d come through.

  We raced through the door just as our shooter fired again. The bolt clipped the broken wooden frame, and spun, ricocheting off the wall as we sprinted away.

  Auggy led us out the way we’d come, down multiple hallways and back into the visitor’s center. As we rushed through the broken doorway, I spotted a familiar looking green golf cart parked near the front steps. Realization dawned, and I screamed a warning an instant before Eyvin Skarrson stepped into view.

  He had his gun drawn, a heavy caliber monstrosity that put my department issue to shame, and a bloodthirsty glare on his face. His eyes lit up at the sight of us, and he raised his pistol, staring down the barrel as we skidded to a halt. “Show me your hands!”

  I grabbed the back of Auggy’s backpack and pulled, the sudden jerk causing his feet to slip. The two of us nearly crashed to the floor as Skarrson screamed another warning, and we jerked back around, intending to backtrack, but at that exact moment the shooter came through the broken doorway with their crossbow raised.

  Skarrson blinked. “What in the heck…”

  “Get down!” I threw myself at Auggy and tackled him to the floor just as the shooter fired. The crossbow bolt cut through the air, missed my back by a rabbit’s hair, and struck Skarrson in the meat of the thigh.

  He screamed, and jerked, finger depressing the trigger. A loud shot blasted out, the gun’s report deafening even from this distance, and the section of the wall nearest to the shooter exploded, blasting wood and drywall in every direction.

  I rolled off Auggy and up to my feet. Seizing him by the back of his collar, I jerked him up and shoved him into the visitor’s center. He stumbled a couple of steps, the two of us kept our heads down as another shot rang out.

  “Wait,” Auggy screamed as we rounded the information desk. “There’s no exit this way.”

  “Eat this you son of a—” The rest of Skarrson’s scream was cut off by the sound of gunfire as he unloaded into the visitor’s center. The other shooter responded in kind, a crossbow bolt’s twang echoing out through the gunfire as Skarrson screamed again.

  We reached the end of the room and dropped into a crouch behind the desk. Auggy had been telling the truth. There was no exit this way. The only means of egress was a window set against the far wall, but we wouldn’t be able to get through without making giant targets of ourselves. We were, in effect, trapped.

  The realization was cold, and I jerked my zipper down, intending to go for my gun, but it was already too late. Hot metal struck the back of my head, pressing hard and burning the skin. I screamed, and instinctively jerked down, turning my head to see Skarrson’s mad glare.

  “Well hello, pretty thing,” he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. “Course, you’re not going to be so pretty once I get through with you. I’m going to—”

  The far window shattered, and a fist sized rock flew inside. It struck the brochure case right beside Skarrson’s face, sending pamphlets and maps into the air. He jerked his head, gun hand rising, and I shot up to my feet and threw my elbow back as hard as I could. It struck Skarrson on the tip of his chin, cracked him hard enough that he fell back behind the desk.

  A second item came through the window. This one was more rounded, like a soda can. Recognition dawned, and I dropped and seized Auggy’s hands, jerking them up and cupping them over his ears before following suit.

  The grenade erupted with a loud bang, and dark smoke poured out from the cannister, filling the room in seconds. Still on the floor, I sucked in a breath, seized Auggy by the sleeve and jerked him up. The two of us stayed low as we raced toward the window. I couldn’t see more than an inch in front of my face, but I knew where I was going, and we reached the broken window as the cloud of smoke peeled away to reveal the morning sunshine.

  I’d expected Easton.

  Instead, Cort McCune stood crouched beside the window.

  A former Acadian turned good guy, Cort was old enough to qualify for retirement at most government jobs. Dressed in a beanie cap and heavy layers of thick clothing despite the season, he had gray, shoulder length hair, a matching beard, and some of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He offered his hand as we came to the window, helping Auggy down first, then me.

  The sound of a crossbow being fired caused my heart to skip a beat as my feet touched the ground, and Skarrson’s screams rang out behind us, his shouts and curses echoing through the smoke as he struggled to his feet.

  My feet touched down, and we took off, cutting around the building and into the trees. We ran fifty yards, then right, racing through the dense foliage and past the Arboretum boundary before coming out onto Centre St. At the edge of the roadway, I jerked my hand down, going for my cellphone, but I might as well not have bothered. The smell of burning oil reached me a split second before my car came into view. I stepped onto the roadway and waved my arms, and Alberad accelerated, skidding to a halt beside us.

  I yanked the door open and motioned Auggy inside even as Cort took the passenger’s seat. I went in last and slammed the door closed. “Go!”

  We took off, racing down the street and reaching the intersection just as the first squad car came around the corner. They were driving fast, running full lights and sirens, and I couldn’t help but to stare out the window as we passed. In hindsight, it was an admittedly foolish move, but I was pumped full of adrenaline and not thinking straight, and as the saying goes, it happened fast.

  There were two officers inside the squad car. The first was Officer Prado, gripping the wheel with two hands and peering forward with the sort of intensity that can only be mustered by a new trainee.

  The second was Rickson.

  I saw him sitting in the passenger’s seat quietly issuing orders, and as we passed, he looked up.

  And our eyes met.

  Retreat and Regroup. Friday, August 7th 0930hrs.

  We turned away from the Arboretum and headed back north toward downtown. As the miles passed, my adrenaline gradually faded, but my heart kept beating in my chest.

  To say things hadn’t gone as planned was a massive understatement. I’d hoped to get in and out without anyone being the wiser. That hadn’t happened, obviously. And now, well, I didn’t know what was going to happen. Rickson was there. He’d seen me. What came next was out of my control.

  The air whooshed out of me, and I sat back in my seat, the truth of the last statement sinking deep into my bones. It was out of my control. I’d made my choices. I’d taken the tree. And the bill would be coming due.

  I’d always known the job came with risks beyond those of the life and death variety. Tempest had proven that, when he’d decked a local law enforcement agent and been sentenced to prison time. Now it looked like I might follow him down the same path. And the worst part was, I couldn’t even say it would be unjust.

  I’d always prided myself on being a good cop. But things had gotten more complicated. I’d been operating as a pariah within my department for too long, and it finally caught up with me. Unable to follow the usual channels, I’d been forced to step outside the law.

  And look where I was now.