Suicide Bomb

by Bobby Nash

  With Sarah on his arm, or was he on hers, not that it mattered, Ted actually enjoyed himself.

  Once they were back at his place, Ted invited Sarah up on reflex and she agreed before he was even aware he had said the words out loud. It had been a long time since he had been with anyone and her acceptance invigorated him like a bolt of lightning. They ran up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. Before he could unlock the door, they were practically undressed.

  Once inside, they never made it as far as the bedroom.

  It was one of the greatest nights of Ted’s life.

  Sarah was gentle and soothing, her touch light against his skin. She whispered just the right words, applied just the right pressure in just the right places, and knew how to make him feel more alive than he had ever felt in his life. Even his ex-wife, whom he had always considered a sexual goddess, could have learned a thing or twelve from this girl. Nothing in his experience compared to the joyous feelings Sarah brought out in him.

  It was like waking up from a fog.

  For the next four months they got together three or four times a week. No commitment and no strings attached, something they both agreed to easily enough. He had been down the marriage road once and had little desire to do it again and she was still trying to figure her life out. They were but two lonely souls seeking comfort from one another and that worked for them. Although, sometimes, when he watched her sleeping so peacefully at his side, as he was at that moment, he wondered if either of them would ever broach the subject of that terrifying next step. Who would have expected he would want to go down that road again after the disaster his first marriage had been. The experience had even made dating unappealing for a time after the split. Certainly, he never planned to get involved again. Once was definitely enough.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Sarah asked, breaking his reverie, her head propped on her palm, an elbow dug deep into the pillow next to his head.

  “No thoughts,” he laughed. Well, nothing profound.”

  “Too bad. I find my brain rushing by at warp speed after a marathon of fantastic sex.”

  Ted laughed again.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked, feigning a pout.

  “Oh, I believe you. When I’m with you, however, thinking is the last thing I want to think about.” He paused and replayed that over in his head, mouthing the words for comedic effect. “Uh, no. Wait. That sounded better in my head,” he finally admitted, smiling at her like a big dork.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “You should. I meant it as one.”

  “So, what’s on your mind, Teddy?”

  “Oh, just pondering the mysteries of the universe.”

  “Ah, a dreamer,” Sarah cooed. “And have you made any discoveries out there in the final frontier, Mon Capitan?”

  Her smile told him that the jibe was meant as good-natured fun and not cruelty. Not many women were as understanding about his fascination with all things science fiction. Not Sarah though. They had spent many an evening curled up on the couch in either his or her apartment watching DVDs of their favorite science fiction shows. She had even laughed when he referred to her as My Sarah Jane. The fact that she got the reference to Doctor Who’s companion Sarah Jane Smith made him like her even more. They were currently enjoying the new Star Trek series and Game of Thrones.

  “No discoveries yet. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s a breakthrough,” he said. “What’s your schedule like today?”

  “I’ve got work this afternoon.”

  He winced at that. He had been hoping they could spend the day together, preferably in bed.

  “And I’ve got to put in some lab time this morning to get ready for tomorrow’s class too,” she continued. “No rest for the wicked. You know how it is.”

  She rolled over and laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her left arm resting on her forehead.

  “Does it get any easier?” she asked after a few moments of comfortable silence, casting a sidelong glance at him.

  He raised a questioning eyebrow, not quite comprehending.

  “After graduation?” she said around a laugh.

  “No.”

  She turned and gave him a quizzical look. Obviously, that was not the answer she had been looking for.

  “The only change is that you get paid,” he admitted. “The hard work never goes away.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “Sorry to be the one to break it to you,” he told her. “Look on the bright side though.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You’ll still have to pay off your student loans.”

  She hit him in the face with a pillow.

  Giggling, she sat on the edge of the bed, the covers falling off to expose her naked backside, a small tattoo of a brightly colored cartoony yellow Moon with a face on it with one eye blinking and sticking out its tongue snuggled delicately on her left butt cheek. Although not normally a big fan of tattoos, Ted could not help but find the image comical. He also found the small patch of art enticing--

  --and sexy as hell. Of course, the canvas had a lot to do with the art’s appeal.

  “I wish I could stay in bed all day,” she said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

  “Me too,” Ted said playfully, wondering for the briefest of moments if she could read his mind. “You could always play hooky,” he said, hopeful that she might take him up on the offer. There were a lot worse ways to spend a Sunday than curled up in bed with a gorgeous coed.

  “Uh huh,” she hummed. “And when was the last time you laid out of work, Mr. Brown?”

  “Well,” he said as he put his arms around her to keep her tethered to the bed, “Even if it wasn’t my day off I’m sure I could be so persuaded.”

  He kissed her lightly on the right cheek, just above the winking Moon, causing small ripples of Goosebumps to rise. She obviously liked that, which he mentally filed away for later.

  “You say that now, buster, but I know you better than that,” she smiled. “Besides, when was the last time you really played hooky?”

  Ted sighed. She knew him far too well. “Yeah. I know,” he said and kissed her again, trying to make her linger beside him just a little longer. For a second, he thought it might work.

  “I really do have to go,” Sarah said as she pulled away from him, the disappointment on her face mirroring Ted’s own.

  “Oh! Rejected again,” he said theatrically, clutching at his heart playfully. “You, my dear, are a vile seductress.”

  “You have no idea,” she said as he watched her walk across the room to the chair where their clothes ended up last night after they came in from dinner and a movie.

  She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, tossing him a wink. “I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight. Assuming you can work me into your busy schedule, of course.”

  “For you, I think I can make time.”

  She picked through the clothes, separating hers from his. Ted, not quite ready to get up, rolled over and stared at the ceiling. He was asleep before he ever heard Sarah turn on the shower.

  If he had been watching though, he might have noticed Sarah pull his identification wallet from the jacket pocket of his coat. The wallet contained his State Department ID badge, business cards, and the electronic key card that allowed him access to the building where he worked.

  Before closing the bathroom door, Sarah looked once more at the man whose bed she had shared for the past few months, her eyes showing just a hint of sadness. She really had come to like Ted Brown. He was a good man and quite the lover. She hadn’t expected that and was surprised after their first night together. The fact that he could keep up with her despite their age difference and his being somewhat out of shape astounded her. With him not being overly handsome, certainly not the kind of guy she normally went for, with a shy quality to him she had planned to fake it. Surprisingly, there had been no
need.

  As she closed the door and started the shower, she let a small sigh escape knowing that the cascading waterfall from the shower would drown it out. This was the hardest part of her job. Betraying someone she had allowed herself to get close to was never easy.

  Ted Brown was certainly not the first man she had betrayed.

  He probably wouldn’t be the last.

  She would miss their time together because after today, she knew he would never want to see her again.

  And she couldn’t very well blame him.

  seventeen

  Langley, Virginia

  Sunday

  As day broke on a chilly Sunday morning, Catherine Jackson regretted leaving her apartment without a jacket.

  She had bolted from her apartment so quickly that taking a moment to grab a jacket or long sleeve shirt did not even occur to her. Sometimes Jacks lapsed into a sort of tunnel vision when in the investigative mindset. While this was something of an asset in an investigation, it did create certain drawbacks in other aspects of her life.

  The fiery remains of the car belonging to the dead CIA analyst and the as yet unidentified man they were temporarily calling John Doe were finally extricated from the ditch. They would then be loaded onto flatbed trucks for delivery to DCPD’s impound lock up where Mitchell Harris and the rest of his CSU team could go over them at their leisure without holding up the investigating officers.

  Her partner had left about half an hour ago at Jacks’ urging. Melvin was still on the mend and he was having trouble with the leg as the night rolled over into morning. Although he put up a fight, even Melvin Walker knew better than to argue with her. He finally agreed to head back and start the initial paperwork while Jacks finished up the scene with a promise that he wouldn’t spend any more time at the office than necessary to type up the report. Not only did he need his rest, but there was also the matter of medication to be taken as well, which he did not bring with him on the early morning homicide call. Jacks supposed she was not the only one to suffer from tunnel vision.

  Jacks covered a yawn with the back of her hand as she watched the flatbed’s wench hoist the burnt remains of Calvin Hutchinson’s car onto its back. Its blackened body was a wretched site. Whatever accelerant was used to ignite the blaze sure had burned hot and fast. Their best theory so far was gasoline, but that had not been confirmed by Detective Harris’ team yet.

  The gawkers had thinned, but representatives from several government agencies were still on hand, relegated to the side lines behind the yellow crime scene tape and uniformed DCPD officers securing the barricade. The FBI would eventually swoop in and take control of the investigation, but until that happened officially, it was still hers and Mel’s case.

  Thankfully, the biggest pain in her butt, Special Agent Robert Corwin of the Secret Service had vacated the premises. Corwin was an arrogant prick and Jacks had taken an instant dislike to him.

  “Aren’t you cold, Detective?”

  She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that Jacks had not even heard the woman approach from the side. Subconsciously, she jerked slightly, caught off guard and trying to cover the fact. However, the person who interrupted those thoughts gave no indication of noticing.

  “Hmmm?” Jacks asked, not really sure what the question had been.

  “I said, aren’t you cold out here with no coat?” Samantha Patterson asked.

  “Ah, Agent Patterson. Yes. It is a little chilly,” Jacks answered, absently rubbing her hands across her exposed arms as she did so. “I thought you had left with your boss.”

  “Decided to stick around a bit. Thought I might catch a ride back with you, if that’s all right?”

  “If I say no are you going to walk back?”

  Samantha chuckled. “I could, but it’s not really something I’m looking forward to. I’d rather go have a nice breakfast. What do you say? My treat,” she added after a second of silence.

  “Well, in that case,” Jacks said with a bit more enthusiasm.

  “The Feds still giving you grief about not letting them inside the perimeter?”

  “Aren’t you also a Fed, Agent Patterson? Don’t all of you federal suit-types stick together? You know, one big happy family and all that?”

  “Not bloody likely. And please, it’s Sam. Agent Patterson sounds so... I don’t know… formal. And I don’t really fit the same mold as some of those federal suit-types.”

  “Like your boss?”

  “Especially him,” she said quicker than she should have. She regretted it instantly and tried to cover her tracks. “Don’t get me wrong. Corwin is good at what he does, but he can be a bit of an asshole.” She smirked. “You may have noticed.”

  “Kind of hard not to,” Jacks said with a smile of her own. “How long have you...”

  “Detective Jackson?”

  “Yeah?” She turned to regard the plainclothes officer who approached.

  “We’re done, ma’am,” another detective she did not know told her. “CSU is taking their gear and evidence back to the barn. Harris said he’d give you a call later.”

  “Good. Good. Thanks. Tell him I’m on my cell.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You want to cut the Unies loose or keep the barricade up just to piss off the initial squad over there?” the detective asked, chucking a thumb in the general direction of the rather impatient throng of irritable federal agents.

  Jacks heard Agent Patterson stifle a sarcastic cough beside her. As much as she might get a kick out of keeping the gawkers waiting awhile longer there was no sense wasting manpower to do it.

  “Yeah. Give me a five-minute head start and cut them loose. Tell the crowd that we will issue a report as soon as we have something to report. Get their names, numbers, and email and we’ll make sure everyone who needs a copy gets a copy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And please stress the fact that we will contact them. The last thing my captain wants are a bunch of phone calls demanding an update before we have time to process everything. Anybody who makes a pest out of themselves goes to the bottom of the list.”

  “I’ll be sure to mention that, Detective.”

  She could not be sure, but she thought the detective was enjoying himself.

  “Charming fellow,” Agent Patterson said at her side.

  Once he was gone, Jacks turned back to Agent Patterson, choosing to keep the peace by not responding to the agent’s comment.

  “So,” she said, dragging out syllables. “You said something about breakfast?”

  ###

  Despite all outward appearances, Ally’s Diner was not a greasy spoon.

  In point of fact, it was quite the contrary. While the outside reminded her of Mel’s Diner from that old TV sitcom, Detective Jackson found the inside clean, pleasant, and most importantly warm. She had not realized just how cold it was outside until she stepped into the warmth of Ally’s Diner and her fingers began to tingle as sensation returned.

  Several invigorating aromas hit her at once as she stepped inside. Instantly, her stomach grumbled, a not so subtle reminder that it had been quite a number of hours since her last meal, dinner with Daniel the night before.

  “Smell’s good,” she said as Agent Patterson pointed toward a booth by the window, one of the few empties in the place.

  “How’s this one?”

  “Works for me,” Jacks replied, motioning toward the waitress who responded with a nod. “Nice place,” she said as she and Samantha Patterson took seats opposite one another at the booth.

  “Yeah. It’s a little out of the way, but damn if the food isn’t good enough to be worth it.”

  “Good morning, ladies,” a cheerful voice called out from the far end of the counter. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” Jacks called back. “Lots and lots of coffee, please.”

  A pleasant, older lady came to the table with a pot of coffee, the steam rising from its spout and two white glass coffee cups. She placed them on the table.

>   “Morning, Al,” Agent Patterson said with a friendly smile.

  “Samantha,” the woman nearly beamed upon seeing her. “Now this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you out this way, darlin’?”

  “You know how it is, Aunt Al. Work, work, work.”

  “Yeah. I know how it is. Your Mom told me you got your old job back. Well it’s about time. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she answered, wincing slightly now that Detective Jackson knew a little more about her than she wanted her to know. No sense worrying about it, she knew. Sam pointed toward her breakfast companion.

  “Oh, where are my manners? Ally Ferguson, this is Detective Jackson.”

  “Catherine, but everybody calls me Jacks,” she said, shaking the woman’s hand.

  “Pleased to meet you, Detective.”

  “Likewise.”

  “So, Jacks, what branch are you with?”

  “DC Metro. Homicide.”

  “My, you are a long way from home,” she said, prompting either of them to reveal more, probably to have some juicy gossip for the lunch crowd.

  “We’re working on something together,” Agent Patterson said. “And since we were in the neighborhood, I told her she simply could not miss out on one of your world-famous breakfasts, Aunt Al.”

  “Oh,” Ally’s interest perked up. “Anything you can talk about?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s...”

  “No,” Jacks said before Agent Patterson could elaborate further. “Sorry, but we’re still too early in the investigation. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  Sam smiled.

  “Aunt Ally worked for the CIA for… jeez, a long time. What, twenty years or so, wasn’t it, Al?”

  “Twenty-seven, actually. I was something of a detective back in those days myself,” she said, smiling warmly in Jacks direction with no hint of sarcasm.