Free The Clouds Roll Away by Sibella Giorello Page B

Helen, who pulled him a full scholarship to VCU. Probationary.
    â€œAre you related to a girl named Zennie Lewis?”
    I watched another layer of betrayal settle into his dark eyes.
    â€œWh-why?”
    â€œI can’t tell you, Milky. Is she family?”
    â€œC-cousin.”
    â€œClose cousin or four marriages and two half-brothers removed?”
    â€œT-tell me wh-what she’s done.”
    Close cousin, I decided. “I need to talk to her. That should tell you enough.”
    He wanted to know what we were offering her.
    â€œWe talk first; any deals are later. If there are deals.”
    The soft brown flesh buckled across his forehead. “You hear about any other L-Lewises?”
    â€œJust Zennie.”
    But the pained expression on his face said he didn’t quite believe me.

    The cold bristled in my lungs as I jogged from the tobacco warehouse, heading up East Main. Although I didn’t like running at night, at times like this, happiness really was a warm gun, and when my cell phone rang, I didn’t stop but unclipped the phone from my waistband, glancing at the LCD display.
    The sheriff from Charles City County.
    â€œMiss Harmon?” he said in his slow drawl.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI thought you’d want to know.”
    â€œAbout what?” I was passing the Jefferson Hotel, so lit up the white stone glowed.
    â€œIn case it’s true, y’all might want to get out to Rapland right quick,” he said. “Somebody just called in a bomb threat.”

chapter twelve
    F ifty-four minutes past nine o’clock, I sped the K-Car down Rapland’s driveway. Blue-and-white police lights crisscrossed the dark. I counted six cruisers lined up bumper-­to-bumper behind a white EMT van, its back doors open.
    When I stepped out of the K-Car, the air smelled of incinerated rubber and scorched metal and a strange peppery scent. The officers stood together beside the EMT van, using it as a shield against the burning mess on the other side.
    Outside the eight-bay garage, the gravel had blown away, the garage doors splintered with shrapnel from the torn vehicle steaming and smoldering on the rocks. The windshield and part of the roof were gone and a stick shape leaned out of the vehicle, as if trying to see around a blind curve. One appendage dangled, terminated in red jelly and I glanced at the head, once. Soot-streaked bone. Melted hair. Restraining the gag reflex, I swallowed, tasting the green and peppery air.
    Geraniums.
    Yanking my turtleneck over my nose and mouth, I ran toward the officers. Safety glass crunched under my feet. The sheriff was speaking to the EMTs. I swallowed again, throat burning. The peppery scent blew in waves, riding a breeze off the river.
    â€œSheriff.”
    He turned, startled by my hidden face.
    â€œSheriff, get everyone away from this scene now.”
    â€œWhat?” he said.
    â€œCall Hazmat. Get these men in their vehicles—”
    â€œI already called the bomb squad.” He sounded defensive. “We don’t know if the gas tank already blew but we’re not stupid; that’s why we’re standing over here.”
    My eyes burned. “Can you smell that?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe smell, like geraniums? It’s a deadly poison. Get your men out of here or you—”
    â€œI don’t see—”
    I turned to the medics, speaking to the older one. “Do you have gas masks?”
    He glanced at the sheriff, almost laughing. “No.”
    â€œThis isn’t a joke, Sheriff. Please. It’s a poison, used as a fire starter.”
    He ran his flickering eyes over my face. His expression shifted from suspicion to realization. “Everybody in their cars—now!” he yelled. “Now!”
    I looked at the medics. “Start treating everyone for exposure to vesicants.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œBlister agents.” Still speaking through the fabric of my