"Not in the living room. But the bedroom sure as hell does."

"What's in there?" Gray strode to the doorway of the bedroom and stopped abruptly. All four walls were covered with maps, sheets of closely printed notes and blown-up photographs. Some of the photos were of a young man in a Marine uniform, smiling proudly. One wall held pictures of Jake, both alone and with Chloe. What surprised Gray were several photographs of Chloe's grandmother.

He stepped inside the room, registering the desk pushed against the far wall, and the computer, monitor and printer atop the dust-free surface. No papers were stacked on the desk, no clutter of pens or paper clips were strewn across the polished wood.

Jake's phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he flicked it on. "Hi, Chloe. What's up? Chloe?"

Gray turned from his study of one of the maps to look at him.

Jake stopped talking. "What the hell?" He listened for a second, then covered the mouthpiece with his fingers and jerked his head toward the door.

"What's going on?" Gray followed him into the hall and closed the door.

"Chloe's phone is on and I can hear her talking to a man. I think it might be Dodd."

"Shit."

They ran down the stairs, through the lobby and outside. Jake fished in his pocket for his keys and tossed them to Gray. "You drive. I'll keep the line open."

"Where is she?" Gray turned on the ignition and shifted the car into gear.

"Liberty Hall."

Please, Jake, answer your phone. If he didn't pick up, the call would be switched to the automated answering service.

"We're going for a walk. You will remove the tape from your grandmother's mouth and place the scarf over her hands." He gestured with his gun at the crumpled gold silk on the floor at Winifred's feet.

Winifred's gaze, steady and strong, held Chloe's as she carefully pried loose the tape. The skin beneath was reddened and she winced as the tape came loose.

"Sorry, Gran," Chloe murmured.

"Not your fault." Winifred shifted her gaze to George Dodd when Chloe bent to pick up the scrap of silk. "Where are you taking us, Mr. Dodd?"

"To the Bell Tower." He smiled and Chloe's skin prickled with warning. There was no humor in his smile. "I've arranged a place for you there."

Chloe glanced at Winifred as she carefully wrapped the gold silk around her wrists, concealing the connected loops made of small ties, the kind that came with garbage bags. They effectively bound her hands together. Her grandmother shook her head, a slight, nearly imperceptible movement. Chloe narrowed her eyes to acknowledge the message that she should bide her time, then stepped to the side, facing their captor.

Dodd noted the scarf. "Very good. Chloe, you will walk ahead of us while your grandmother walks with me. Any attempt on your part to summon help will result in my having to shoot her. We'll take the South Annex stairway up to the Bell Tower." He gestured Chloe forward.

She crossed to the door and opened it.

"Remember, not a word or your grandmother dies."

Chloe nodded. "You want me to walk ahead of you all the way to the Liberty Hall Bell Tower?" she asked, speaking more loudly than usual.

He glared at her. "That's what I said. Outside. Now."

She pulled open the door and stepped into the empty hallway.

Jake, please be listening.

Eight.

"He's taking them to the Bell Tower at Liberty Hall."

"Which end of the building is that?"

Jake visualized the map he'd used to find Chloe's office the first day he'd taken her to lunch. "South end. I think there's a ground-floor entrance." He checked his watch. "Damn it. We're still at least fifteen minutes away."

Gray looked at the traffic around them and turned left, accelerating up a residential street. "Maybe we can shave a few minutes off the time." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone, handing it to Jake, then quickly downshifting while scanning the intersection ahead of them. "Call it in to the PD. And tell them to alert UW campus security that we have a hostage situation at Liberty Hall."

Dodd waved Chloe and Winifred ahead of him into the tower. The room was octagonal, and each wall had wide glass windows, giving it the appearance of a lighthouse tower. The ceiling had a round opening, and high above, the automated bell hung, silent. A deep window ledge created a waist-high shelf that circled the room.

Chloe's gaze swept the space as she searched for an advantage, but there was nothing. No furniture, no drapes or blinds on the windows.

Only one object sat in solitary splendor on the window ledge directly across from them.

Gran's birthday clock. How did it get here? Puzzled, she looked at Dodd and found him watching her, a small smile on his thin lips.

"Ah, you recognize the clock, Chloe?"

"Yes, it was a birthday gift for my grandmother. How did it get here?"

"I brought it, of course. I took it from the house before I intercepted the limo driver and appropriated his car to collect Mrs. Abbott from the cruise ship this morning." He nodded approvingly. "Most accommodating of you to make plans that fit so perfectly with mine. Sit down on the floor, Mrs. Abbott." He waited until Winifred complied, then turned to Chloe. "Turn around and cross your wrists behind your back."

Chloe reluctantly obeyed, conscious of his firm, unwavering grip on the handgun.

He slipped a plastic tie around one of her wrists and threaded a second through the loop before he yanked the first one tight. Then he circled the second around her other wrist. Chloe winced at the pinching and bit back a cry of pain when he pulled it snug.

"Sit on the floor next to your grandmother."

Chloe did, and he swiftly looped and tightened nooses around her ankles, binding the ties together with a third length of plastic. Then he did he same thing to Winifred.

George Dodd stood and smiled down at them. "I suppose it's only fair that you understand what's going to happen to you." He glanced at his watch before walking to the rosewood clock. He turned the clock so they could see the back and opened the small door to expose the intricate workings. A whitish-gray substance now filled the entire space and a small object with wires leading from it was attached to the flashlight battery installed for the alarm.

A sense of dread overwhelmed Chloe. "What is that?"

"Dynamite. More specifically, dynamite from Jake Morrissey's company. It needed to be Jake's dynamite that destroyed you, Chloe, just as it was his dynamite that killed my son. You see the importance of the continuity and connection, don't you? Revenge isn't complete without all the parameters clearly defined."

Oh, God. He's completely crazy. Jake, are you listening? Hurry!

He checked his watch again. "I must leave you. It's time. You have precisely ten minutes. When the hands on the clock reach twelve, the battery will send electricity through the alarm to the detonator cap and set off the dynamite." He smiled benevolently. "Don't worry. You won't feel a thing. Only Morrissey will feel-he'll suffer when you're gone. I'm sorry to have to use you, but this was the only way to punish him." He looked out the window. "The Bell Tower at McGyver Hall has a perfect view so I can watch Jake Morrissey as his world explodes." He turned and walked to the door. "Goodbye, ladies."

And he left, quietly closing the door. The sound of his footsteps as he moved quickly down the stairs faded away.

"Gran, reach into my pocket." Chloe rolled to her knees and shifted closer to Winifred.

Winifred didn't question her. Instead, using both hands, she pulled the cell phone out of the square pocket of Chloe's full skirt and held it steady while Chloe bent over.

"Jake! Jake, are you there?"

"Chloe, thank God! Are you all right?"

"Yes. But Dodd put dynamite in Gran's clock and set it to go off in ten minutes."

"I heard." Jake's curse carried clearly over the phone. "Can you get out of the room to safety?"

"Our hands and feet are bound together. I don't think we'd make it down the stairs and away from the building in time."

"Tell me about the clock."

Chloe studied it. "Antique, glass face, musical figures on top. And it was modernized with a battery-operated alarm at some point."

"He's using the battery for ignition." Jake's mind raced. "You said it has a glass face?"

"Yes."

"Can you reach the hands on the clock?"

"I don't know. Gran, we need to get closer to the clock."

"Closer to the dynamite?" Winifred's eyebrows winged upward.

"If we don't find a way to disarm it, it's not going to matter how close we are. The whole tower will be gone and us with it."

Winifred nodded, clutching the phone in her bound hands, and rolled across the short expanse of bare wood floor after Chloe. Panting, both women struggled to their knees, their heads and shoulders even with the low window ledge where the clock sat.

"Gran, see if you can open the glass face."

Winifred lifted her hands, set the phone carefully on the ledge and slipped the little brass hook free to swing open the round glass face.

"Done," she murmured, her brow dotted with nervous perspiration. She picked up the phone and held it to Chloe's ear.

"We have the glass open, Jake, and we can reach the hands."

"This sounds too simple to work, Chloe, but it's the only chance. I want you to tell Winifred to slowly move the minute hand back thirty minutes."

"That's it? Are you sure it'll work?"

"I'm betting your life on it. And, Chloe, before you tell Winifred...I just want you to know, I love you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "I love you, too, Jake."

"Tell Winifred to move the hands slowly." His voice was rough with emotion.

"Gran, Jake wants you to move the minute hand backward-thirty minutes. Do it slowly."

Winifred barely hesitated, drew a deep breath and, without a tremor in her fingers, lifted her bound hands and carefully, slowly, reversed the minute hand.

Both women held their breaths, waiting for an explosion. But the clock merely ticked steadily on.

"Chloe? Chloe!"

"I'm here, Jake. Gran did it-and the dynamite didn't go off."

"Good. Now, get the hell out of there, as fast as you can. We're in the parking lot. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Right." Chloe looked at her grandmother. "Jake says to get out if we can."

Winifred nodded, dropped the phone and clambered to her feet beside Chloe. Hampered by the hobbles on their ankles, they could only take tiny steps. They managed to reach the door, fumble it open and step onto the landing before they heard the sound of a car below. Doors slammed, feet pounded on the stairs.

Jake reached Chloe first, swinging her off her feet and slinging her over his shoulder. Gray picked up Winifred and followed close on Jake's heels as he ran back down the stairs and out of the building. Sirens screamed; police cars and fire trucks drove across the lawn to join the campus police and surround the building.

Jake lowered Chloe to the grass and knelt beside her to run his hands over her face, down her arms, testing to be sure she was whole. Ignoring the many onlookers, he retrieved his knife and cut her bonds.

"I'm fine, Jake, honestly." With difficulty, Chloe sat up. "Did the police catch Dodd?"

He lifted his head, looking swiftly at the surrounding chaos. "I doubt it."

"He might still be here. He said he was going to watch the explosion from the tower at McGyver Hall."

Jake's eyes flared, and his face grew hard.

"Go, I'm fine." She pushed at his arm, reading his unwillingness to leave her. "Gran's here-and so is half the campus and most of the police and fire departments."

"I'll be back." Jake pressed a quick, fierce kiss to her mouth and stood. Gray joined him and they ran toward McGyver Hall.

Moments later, Chloe and Winifred-whose ties had been released by a paramedic-were in the back seat of a police car. An officer had provided them with paper cups of hot coffee from a machine. They sat in semi-isolation, each cradling a cup while the organized chaos of a crime scene unfolded outside.

"Honey, I told you I wouldn't mind a little excitement in my life, but this wasn't exactly what I meant," Winifred said, her eyes twinkling.

"Sorry, Gran." Chloe studied her grandmother's crumpled linen pantsuit and silk blouse. Her white curls were disheveled, but her eyes gleamed with energy. "Gran, I need some advice."

"About what?"

"I think I'm in love with Jake."

"And?" Winifred waited, clearly expecting more.

"I know he's not active military anymore, but he's a soldier at heart and he looks at life from a warrior's viewpoint. And his job is dangerous."