Matt, racing to Neal's house on the north side of town, ran both red lights and signs. He was glad there were no cops around to delay him. They were all most likely at his mother's house anyway. He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, then hurried out of the car and up the walk to the front door where Neal's wife waited for him. Tears streamed down her face.

"Mom's dead, Matt," she cried, throwing herself into his arms.

He stood unsteadily as he tried to support himself and Emily. He felt nauseous and swallowed the vomit rising in his throat. "Where's Neal?"

Emily moved away from him. She nodded towards the door. "In there," she sniffed. "I ... I sent the kids to a neighbor's for the night." She wiped her eyes with a damp tissue. "I don't know what to do for him, Matt. He's fallen apart. It's like he blames himself."

He squeezed her shoulder. "I'll talk to him." He took a deep breath, then grabbed the brass doorknob to balance himself. After a few seconds he walked into the house. Neal sat on the sofa, head in his hands. His hair was rumpled. Matt walked over to his older brother and sat next to him, putting an arm around Neal's husky shoulder.

Neal raised his head. Tears were splashed on his face. "How did something like this happen?" he moaned. "She was just here--" He dramatically threw his hands in the air. "--In this house for dinner." He shook his head.

Matt frowned. "Why didn't she drive over?"

"Her car is in the garage."

"What's wrong with her car?"

"I don't know. She said something about the brakes."

Matt's breath came out slowly. "None of this makes any sense. I'm going to go over to Mom's house."

"There's nothing left, Matt! It's all gone!"

"Well, maybe Jake Birch can give me some information." He looked into his brother's eyes. "It's a shock, Neal."

He nodded. "It's a nightmare."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"No." He shook his head. "I ... I can't." He swallowed hard.

"I understand," Matt whispered. "I'll be back later." He walked outside. He felt numb. He sucked a large amount of air into his lungs as he glanced around Neal's ranch-style house. He had designed this very house two years ago. At first Matt had hesitated when Neal had come to him with his plans. He tried to persuade Neal to go to another architect, but his brother stubbornly refused. Matt knew it was because of his financial situation at the time, even though Neal flatly denied it. He didn't like working with his siblings--too much of a headache, not that his clients didn't cause him any, but with his family it was different. If something went wrong he didn't want to have to hear about it for the rest of his life or to have tension between them. He'd seen that happen too many times when family members hired one another for projects.

He walked to the back of the house and seated himself on the picnic bench. Bits and pieces of thoughts and conversations randomly filtered through his mind. He'd always been tight with his family and was sorely disappointed when they hadn't accepted his young wife into the family. They were polite enough but never made much of an effort to make her feel a part of them. He wished and hoped they would welcome her with open arms, but it was futile. His thoughts took him back to last week. Peggy and his mother had been at one another's throats again. Peggy fervently vowed revenge. And Matt knew the revenge would be to not let her see her granddaughter. It was the one thing that would break his mother's heart. Their arguments were becoming more frequent, and no matter what Matt tried to do to keep peace it always seemed to backfire and he was put in the middle. He closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled himself to his feet. He walked to the front of the house and over to the driveway, and got into his car.

Twenty minutes later he arrived at his mother's home. He wasn't prepared for the sight that awaited him. He squinted, thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. He turned off the engine and stared in disbelief at the pile of rubble that had once been his boyhood home. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel.

Sheriff Birch walked over to the car. "I'm sorry, Matt." He patted Matt's shoulder. Matt threw his hands up.

"What the hell happened, Jake?" His eyes searched the man's face for some sort of explanation. Jake peered at the debris.

"We don't know."

"Well, you must know something dammit!" Matt impatiently climbed out of his car. He blinked hard. "What about my mother?"

Jake's eyes swept over the wreckage. "Matt, you can see for yourself ... she didn't have a chance. I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

"What happened, then? Was it a gas leak?" he demanded.

Jake looked at the ground. After a few seconds, he raised his eyes to meet Matt's. "It wasn't an accident."

"What?" Matt rested his trembling body against his car. "Are you saying what I think you are?"

"What we can make out of it is that it was deliberately and elaborately, I might add, planned. He thoughtfully scratched his chin. "We've never had anything like this happen around these parts, Matt. You know that." He looked evenly at him. "We need to determine a motive."

Matt emphatically shook his head. "What vendetta could anyone possibly have against my mother? It doesn't make sense!"

"No, it doesn't, but stranger things have happened." He kicked at the ground. "What kind of hatred could someone possess to make him resort to murder?"

"My mother didn't have any enemies. You know that, Jake."

He nodded slowly. "I know, Matt, but I still don't believe it was a random act."

Matt's nostrils filled with the stench of smoldering ruins. He coughed, then spat at the ground. "Fill me in on what you know, Jake."

"There's not too much at this point," he answered, pulling on his chin. "My theory is that the perpetrator knew your mother would be out this evening. He then entered the house and rigged up a device in her bedroom lamp that would detonate the moment she turned the lamp on." He paused to light a cigarette. "After the lamp was turned on, everything just blew."

Matt grabbed the sheriff's arm. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"Not that I've heard." He threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with a large, muddy boot.. "It's a miracle, though." He slapped Matt on the back. "If it's any comfort to you, I don't think your mother knew what hit her. It was too fast."

Matt cleared his throat. "I need to believe that, Jake. If I knew she suffered in any way.... "His voice trailed off.

"I know. The whole town is in a state of shock."

Matt was silent as he looked at the smoking debris.

"Do you want me to notify the rest of the family?" he offered.

Matt sucked his breath in. "Would you do that for me, Jake?" he asked, relief flooding him.

"Sure."