“Look at this.”
Robert stared without comprehension. “What am I seeing? It looks like all the others.”
“No, this is completely different. I saw damage like this at least a half dozen times in the army. This bridge didn’t fall because of a boat hitting it. This damage was made by explosives. Really powerful explosives.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. We’d better call the FBI. They’ll want to see this. And we’ll need to talk with the men who brought this up. There’s got to be more evidence down there. I think we might just get lucky.”
As Robert hurried away, Bret sat back on his heels, thinking hard. He had known the collapse hadn’t seemed right, and today he’d finally found the missing link. Only the sheer size of the disaster had prevented him from pinpointing it earlier. The debris farther from the charges showed nothing, but this damage had occurred closer to the blast and couldn’t be masked.
Yet Robert hadn’t recognized the sign of explosive damage, and that meant Bret’s presence in Portland hadn’t been in vain.
Of course, the existence of the explosives brought to light even more problems and quite possibly threatened the entire city.
Who had set the charges and why?
Chapter 11
Autumn was enjoying herself, and even the thought that she would have to go back to her apartment tonight didn’t destroy her euphoria. The more she got to know Tawnia, the more she liked this woman who was so different from and yet so similar to herself. They shared a love of fiction, had a talent for getting lost, held the same political views, and adored eating more than just about anything else—though Autumn preferred organic. It didn’t matter that Autumn hated shoes and college classes and microwaves and could barely draw a stick figure, or that Tawnia had no use for herbs, wouldn’t know an antique if she tripped over it, and that she was far too careful with her emotions. While Autumn had never experienced problems chatting with strangers before, the connection she felt with Tawnia was different. They simply fit. Autumn felt indebted to Bret for connecting her with Tawnia.
She was especially amazed that Tawnia had offered to go back to her apartment with her. Autumn had been afraid to be there alone, but at the same time she hadn’t wanted Jake or any of her other friends with her. They were too much a part of the old life with Winter. But Tawnia seemed to belong to who Autumn was now. She opened her mouth to accept Tawnia’s offer but Tawnia’s words interrupted her thoughts.
“Speak of the devil.”
Autumn looked up to see Bret pulling to the curb. He sauntered up the walk, looking tired but also somewhat jubilant.
“We were just talking about you,” Autumn said.
“So that’s why my ears are burning.” His face flushed as he said it.
Autumn laughed at his discomfort. “Silly boy. Don’t worry, we were only saying how grateful we are that you introduced us.”
“Oh.” Now he seemed deflated. Men were so transparent.
“What’s up?” Tawnia asked. “You look like something’s happened.”
Autumn swallowed hard. So Tawnia had noticed his demeanor, too. Dread leapt to life inside her. “Have they found another victim?” Her father, she meant, since there were only two people still missing.
Bret shook his head. He’d reached the porch stairs and took them in one leap. “No. Not that. But there is news, except that it’s still ultrasecret, so you can’t tell a soul. But just now we found damage on the rubble from the river—damage that could only have been caused by some kind of explosive device. We’re still looking for more clues, but I’m fairly certain the bridge collapse was not an accident. It was sabotage.”
“A bomb.” Tawnia shook her head. “That’s crazy.”
“An explosive device,” Bret corrected. “Or rather, multiple devices, given the extent of the collapse.”
Autumn rolled her eyes. “If it blows up, it’s a bomb. So who did it?”
“That we don’t know. We’ve shown the evidence to the Feds and we’ll be working with them to determine exactly what was used. That will help us catch whoever did it. Hopefully by tomorrow they’ll have more to go on. They’re pulling an all-nighter as we speak, but I needed a break.”
“I can’t believe someone would do something so terrible.” Tawnia stared out over the small yard, her face solemn.
Autumn shivered. “After 9/11, I believe anything.”
“Do you need another blanket?” Tawnia asked.
“No. I’m fine.” Autumn pulled the blanket she had up around her neck.
“It’s possible the explosions had a political purpose.” Scooting one of the flowerpots aside, Bret sat on the small cement wall surrounding the porch. “They’ve kept it out of the media, but the governor crossed the bridge on the way to some public appearance shortly before the collapse. He might have been a target.”
“There are easier ways to knock people off,” Autumn said dryly.
Tawnia nodded. “And if they planned something so elaborate, why would they miss?”
“Might be a complete coincidence. You have to admit, though, it’d make some statement. Blow up the bridge to kill the governor.”
Autumn snorted. “Yeah. It’d say, Look at me. I’m a crazy nutcase. Lock me up.”
Bret shrugged and leaned over as though to dig a finger into Tawnia’s half-eaten meat pie. “Can I have the rest of this? I’m starved.”
“No!” Tawnia slapped his hand. “But my landlady made some stew. You can have the rest of it. Go on inside.”
“Great.” Bret was inside the house before Autumn finished laughing.
“If you want to talk handsome,” Autumn said, winking at Tawnia.
Tawnia looked at her blankly. “I don’t. Not if it’s about him.”
“Are you sure? I thought you and Bret had a thing.”
“Had being the key word.” Tawnia looked upset. Autumn knew because her own face wore that same expression when she was out of sorts.
Time to change the subject. “Well, I guess I should get home.” Autumn threw off the blanket and swung her legs to the ground.
Tawnia had an odd look on her face now, one Autumn didn’t recognize. Not a shred of emotion showed through. “So,” Tawnia said, her voice casual, “do you want me to come with you? You never said. If you’d prefer, I can ask Bret to drive you there instead.”
“I’d like you to come. We’ll have a sleepover.”
Tawnia grinned. “Okay, then. Come inside while I get some things.” She held open the screen door for Autumn. “You’ll have to tell me how to get there.”
Autumn laughed. “I hope I can find my way from here.” Her step was a little shaky, so she slid her fingers along the door to steady herself.
“Not you, too!” Bret groaned, coming from the kitchen with a bowl full of stew. “Tawnia gets lost going to the grocery store.”
“I do not!” Tawnia retorted. “Well, not if it’s a grocery store I’ve been to before.”
“Don’t mind him,” Autumn told her. “I get lost a lot, too. But I see a lot more things that way. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stumbled onto treasures I would have missed had I been on the right road.”
Tawnia smirked at Bret. “See? It’s good to be directionally challenged.”
“Hmhahoin,” he said.
“Directionally challenged—I love it!” Autumn settled on the couch, feeling dizzy. “And don’t talk with your mouth full, Bret. It’s not polite.”
He looked ready to protest, but Mrs. Gerbert’s stew was too compelling. “Whatever.” He took another huge bite.
“Once when I was in Kansas,” Autumn said, pulling her legs under her, “I got lost during a tornado. Seeing all those hoses dancing in the air, still attached to the houses, was hilarious until I realized I was in danger of being blown off the road. But none of the road names were familiar, so eventually, I just stopped and knocked on a door. No one answered, but the door was open so I went in.
Found the family huddled downstairs in their basement. They told me to come right in and help myself to a cup of brew they had steaming on a camp stove. It was pretty funny.”
Bret shook his head. “Doesn’t sound fun. You could have been hurt.”
“By the family?”
“No, the tornado.”
“Aw, it was only a little one. My rental car didn’t even blow away. The best thing was that in the basement, I found a bunch of antiques belonging to the old grandma of the family who’d died at about a hundred years old. I gave the family a good price for them, and we all went happily along our way.”
Tawnia started laughing. “I can just see it. You wheeling and dealing as the tornado sweeps over the house.”
“Actually, it was after dinner. The tornado was long gone.”
“You ate dinner there?”
“Sure. After the tornado. They invited me. Friendly people there in Kansas. Lots of fields, too.”
“I know. I’m from Kansas, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right. Why’d you leave, anyway?”
“Because my parents were there.” Dead silence filled the room, and Tawnia’s face lost all color. “It’s a joke, you guys.” But her tone was so serious that Autumn wondered about the people who had raised her.
“Actually, I left because I felt like it,” Tawnia went on quickly. “I wanted to see what else there was in the world.”
“Where’d you go? Nevada?”
“Colorado. Stayed for a few years and then went to Utah, and from there I ended up in Nevada. And now Oregon. Five states in ten years. Just call me a nomad.”
Autumn felt a little chill. Tawnia had named the states she’d most frequently visited over the same ten-year period. In fact, with the addition of California and Washington, Oregon’s immediate neighbors, those had been the only states she’d visited. What an odd coincidence! Or was she looking for fire where there wasn’t even a hint of smoke? They both lived in the West—well, Kansas was the Midwest—but it was entirely logical that they would visit the same states. Winter might find some sort of deeper meaning in the coincidence, but that didn’t mean one existed. Still, it was a little disconcerting to think that she and Tawnia might mirror each other in ways that went beyond physical similarities.
“What about you, Bret?” Autumn asked.
“I’ve pretty much stayed in Nevada, but I lived in California as a child. I’ve been to Arizona, as well, and overseas in the army. And then here, of course. Oh, and my family and I took a trip to New York once.”
New York. An odd sort of relief washed over Autumn. New York was far away from the states where Tawnia had lived, and because Autumn had been to New York herself, that proved there was no odd, subliminal pattern in her trips. A little over a year ago in April, she and Winter had flown to New York City to visit an aunt of his who had been ill. They had caught a few Broadway hits while they were there. It was the first and only time she remembered Winter flying on a plane, and she was glad to have that memory to treasure now.
“I almost went to New York,” Tawnia said into the silence. “Last year in the spring. I got to thinking that I really should go because all my friends have been. But I . . .” Her face drained of its color, becoming paler than when she’d talked about her parents. She stopped speaking and stared helplessly at Bret, all her poise deserting her. His spoon was frozen in the air.
“What happened?” Autumn asked. Whatever it had been, it concerned both Bret and Tawnia somehow. That Tawnia’s planned trip was so near the time of Autumn’s own New York adventure put things back into the supernatural realm again, but she would think about that later.
“Something came up, that’s all.” Tawnia walked stiffly toward the short hall leading to the bedroom. “I’ll just be a minute for my things. And I bet your clothes are washed now.” She glanced at the jeans and T-shirt Autumn wore.
“I think your landlady put them in the dryer, so I can change into them and give you these clothes back now.”
“Don’t bother. I can get them tomorrow.” With a last glance at Bret, Tawnia ducked into the bedroom.
“What was that all about?” Autumn asked.
“What?” Bret shoved another spoon of stew into his mouth.
“What happened last year?”
Bret chewed and swallowed, contemplating her silently for what seemed like long moments. “My brother died. Tawnia was with him when it happened. That’s kind of how we met.”
There was more to the story, but Bret was heading for the kitchen, his strides long and purposeful. “I think I’ve had enough of this stew, though it really is excellent. So what do you ladies plan on doing this evening?”
Though she was bursting with curiosity, Autumn let him change the subject. Maybe Tawnia would tell her more later. “I’m going home,” she called after him. “To my apartment.”
“You really have an apartment?” Bret came back wearing his normal smile. “I was beginning to believe you lived in that tiny back room at your store.”
“It’s not tiny.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me excited to see your apartment.”
“Good, because you’re not invited. This is a girls’ sleepover.”
“Man, I always wanted to attend one of those.” He sat beside her on the couch. “Girls get all the fun.”
“Sorry, can’t help you there.” The bantering was fun. She hadn’t figured him for the type. He seemed so, well, serious. But then, they had met under serious circumstances. This last thought sobered her, and she felt the sadness of the past days come rushing back.
“Even if you could help me, I have a previous engagement.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Clyde Hanks, the guy in charge of Multnomah’s bridges. Basically, the guy who’s responsible for my being here. He’s meeting with the FBI right now, but he wants to see me as soon as they finish.”
“Shouldn’t you be there now?”
“Nah, right now they’re pretty crazy, trying to find what terror organization might be responsible. I’ll just keep doing my job, and when the noise dies down, I’ll tell them what I know.”
“Won’t you be leaving soon? I mean, now that they know it wasn’t an accident?”
“Maybe. I haven’t checked out all the bridges yet, but that might not be a priority with this new information. Still, the FBI will need engineers to consult with, and they may want to use some of us who are already familiar with the project.”
“So apparently no one is claiming responsibility for the bombs.” Autumn still found the whole idea hard to believe. Some jerk with an axe to grind had set multiple bombs to send a message, and because of that Winter was dead. She’d almost died. The baby in the car seat had drowned. No, better not to think about her, or the mother. So much wasted life. Why? Autumn pulled her knees to her chest.
“If someone’s claiming responsibility, the FBI’s not telling the rest of us. For all I know, they’ve had information all along they haven’t shared. But we didn’t even know the cause of the collapse until we found the debris tonight. Usually people who do this sort of thing aren’t satisfied unless they take some kind of credit, so I expect we’ll hear something soon.”
“I’m ready!” Tawnia came down the hall with a small suitcase, and only then did Autumn realize how close Bret was sitting. Close enough to look romantic. Guiltily, she pulled away as far as her position allowed, though she had nothing to hide.
Bret smiled up at Tawnia and then glanced back again at Autumn. “I can’t get over how alike you two are.”
That gave Autumn an idea. If he thought they looked alike now, how much more would they look alike if, as Mrs. Gerbert had suggested, their hair was the same and Tawnia wasn’t wearing her contact? It might be fun to find out. She’d have to think about that further.
Bret stood and sauntered to the door. “Well, ladies, thanks for dinner. Have fun tonight. Call me if you need me.”
“You’re leaving?” Tawnia took a step in his dir
ection. She still wore the maroon suit she’d worn to work, and now her sure movements held no trace of insecurity. Autumn admired how stunning and in control she seemed. Autumn herself had never worn a suit in her life. Well, at least not a classic one that was all one color, though she’d once owned a knitted neon yellow one that she’d been very proud to wear until she snagged and broke a thread on an antique table. Half the jacket unraveled before she noticed.
“Have to meet with the county guys. We’ll probably be working on this all night.”
Tawnia walked with him to the door. “Don’t work too hard.” Bret said something Autumn couldn’t hear, and Tawnia shrugged in response. “I want to.” She shut the door behind him.
“He’s really cute.”
Tawnia chuckled. “Whatever. You ready?”
“You’re really not interested in him anymore?”
“No.”
Was there a slight hesitation? Autumn couldn’t tell, nor did the inscrutable expression on Tawnia’s face give her any hint.
“I’m just going to check the back door and turn out the lights. Would you like some sandals?”
“No. I don’t wear shoes.” Autumn wondered if it was time to explain her lifelong hatred of footwear. As a child Summer had even let her go to school without shoes until the principal had threatened to call child services. Every year until sixth grade she managed to slip under the man’s radar until about October. At the first frost, everyone suddenly started paying attention to her feet. After Summer’s death, Autumn didn’t have the heart to put up a fight and had worn the hated shoes. Later, as an adult, she’d had problems with her back—probably from lifting items in the store—and learned that it was better when she didn’t wear any kind of heel. Since then, she’d pretty much given up wearing shoes again, except for important business or outside in the dead of winter.
Tawnia was staring at her. “I know, it’s weird,” Autumn said. Usually, she refused to make excuses, but somehow she cared what Tawnia thought. “Just think of it as going with the name.”
Tawnia laughed. “What about work?”
“What about it?”
“Do you wear shoes there?”
Eyes of a Stanger Page 15