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Chapter Thirteen

Carter

The piece of fabric hanging from Carter's porch fluttered in the slight breeze. It would have been picturesque, if not for the words “YOUR FAULT”, which were written in what could either be blood or red paint. Carter hoped it was paint.

Carter's hands shook as he came back into the house. He no longer felt safe here. He felt like running to the nearest police station and simply taking up residence. But he was done running. Whoever was doing this was going to chase him across the globe. It was best to stay here, where he could control things and make plans. He held the high ground, even if it didn't feel like it at the moment.

“Are you okay, sir?” Brian asked, coming up behind him.

“I'm fine.” Carter already knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight. The dreams of fire were already in his mind.

“The bomb squad says that it would never have gone off,” Brian informed him. “The threading on the head of the pipe bomb wasn't tight enough.”

“That's comforting.” Carter turned fr
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