“Hey, I only met him briefly, did a quick interview as part of the investigation into his brother’s charges. I do know that Pressler is giddy over him, and it’s all happened rather quickly.” There were a few seconds of silence. “And, again, not implying anything here with this Noah guy, but I’ve seen a lot, you know.”
“So, do you have any way of checking to see if he’s been questioned about anything that might get our attention?”
He huffed out a breath. “Do you know how many things I have on my to-do list? I’m fucking drowning here.” I was about to respond when he jumped back in. “But I’ll move this one closer to the top. Pressler is one of the good guys…well, I guess she’s a gal. I know you two are pretty close. If it were my big sister, I’d want to know. That kind of thing. So, I’ll get back with you in the next couple of days. That work for you?”
The shockwave rocked the car a split second before I saw a fireball on the other side of the parking lot.
My mind scrambled for a moment, and then it hit me.
Riya.
I jumped out of my car. Smoke was mushrooming over a fire-engulfed car, which had buckled upward in the middle. My heart was in the back of my throat as I ran in that direction. Car alarms beeped all around me, my feet crunching on shards of glass—car windows had been blown out. “No, no, no…” I said, weaving around cars that had been displaced by the concussive explosion.
“Oh my God!”
I whipped my head around and saw a woman screaming from the steps of the restaurant. More people quickly ran outside, a look of utter shock on their faces. “Call nine-one-one!” I yelled.
Around more cars, I drew closer and began to feel the heat of the flames that crackled and popped with a ferocious intensity. Everything attached to the car was melting. My nostrils were flooded with the sickening smells of burned rubber, gasoline, and…
I couldn’t even finish my thought. It was too much. I inched forward, trying to believe I could overcome the blistering heat to save Riya—but I knew nothing could survive this explosion.
“Get back, man. You’re going to get hurt!” someone yelled, tugging at my arm. I turned around, in a state of shock, as the man pulled me back, not stopping until we were at the bottom steps of the restaurant. Sounds of people screaming and crying surrounded me.
One woman dropped her purse and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. She then lifted her eyes to look at me. “I think I saw a woman get into that car. She had long, black hair.”
My voice shook as I responded, “Riya Patel. Her name is Riya Patel.”
And then I covered my head and wondered what had happened to our innocent, weird city.
29
It took the fire department about an hour to completely douse the flames, although small plumes of smoke still coiled into the gray sky. I sat in the same spot on the steps. Porter had shown up, along with about twenty other cops. Agents from the ATF were also on the scene.
Porter and an ATF agent had already spoken to me once—I’d shared the basics of my meeting with Riya. They said they would need more time with me after they’d spoken with everyone else in the restaurant.
My mind was numb as I sat on the steps to the restaurant, my phone dangling in my hand. So many people to contact. But there was only one I actually did reach out to via a brief text: Nicole. I wanted her to hear it from me, told her not to worry, that I was fine. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and stared at nothing. I could only think of Riya, what it must have felt like for that split second when the bomb went off. Well, for whatever crazy reason, I tried to put myself in the car, but it was something that I simply couldn’t recreate.
Tears welled in my eyes. I had no physical injuries, but my heart ached. Why did it have to be Riya, or anyone, for that matter?
A man from the restaurant walked by with a tray of snacks and drinks. “Want anything, sir?”
“No…no thanks.” I kept my sights looking ahead, my brain feeling like it had exploded, just like the car.
“You were the one having lunch with the woman.”
I glanced up. It was our waiter. “Yeah. We had lunch.”
“Hey, I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
“Thanks.” He had no idea that I hardly knew Riya.
“It’s just crazy what this city has experienced in the last few months. Two bombings. The first one everyone thought was related to terrorism. Turned out it was connected to that crazy CEO, Carson…uh…”
“Calvin Drake.”
“Yeah, that gutless asshole. And now this. I don’t even know what to make of it.” He looked toward the seared remains of the car. “I hope this monster is found, and I hope he rots in hell.”
He moved on, leaving me to my thoughts, as knotted as they were.
Someone nudged my back. I turned around, and a woman said, “Your name is Ozzie, right?”
I nodded, and she pointed to the police tape. It was Nicole, waving her arms at me while talking to the officer positioned near her. I waved, pushed myself off the steps, and caught a glance from Porter, who waved at the officer to let Nicole in. She barreled into my arms seconds later.
She squeezed me like she’d never squeezed before.
“Nicole, it’s okay. I’m not hurt.”
She didn’t respond. She only hugged me that much harder.
“Nicole…babe, I’m all right.”
She pulled back a brief second. “But I could have lost you again, and…” she started, and then sobs replaced her words. She tugged me closer to her again, burying her face into my neck. I could feel the wetness of her tears on my skin. I hated seeing her this upset.
The waiter walked by, offered us some snacks. This time I took a bottled water and asked Nicole if she wanted some.
She sipped from the bottle and began to calm down. We stepped a few feet to the side, where we could have a semi-quiet moment together.
I wiped a tear from her cheek. She took my hand, kissed it, and pressed it against her face. Her eyes went still. I followed her gaze to the remnants of the explosion. New tears began to form in her eyes as she shook her head.
“This is just like the bombing at the Belmont.”
She was right. That was when I thought I’d lost her. She’d gone off to the bathroom when the bomb went off. Chaos ensued, everyone trampling over people and outdoor furniture to get to the exit. I’d tried to find Nicole, but I was forced out by first responders. I waited anxiously from across the street, wondering if they would find Nicole alive. Finally, I saw her walk out. It was nothing short of a miracle.
“I said in the text you didn’t need to come down here.”
“I had to see you.” She looked at me, touched my face where there weren’t bandages. “I love you, Ozzie Novak. I can’t lose you. Mackenzie can’t, either. We both need you. We love you.”
“I love you both too.” She pressed her head against my chest for another minute. I was comforted by her being there, by feeling how much she cared for me. It was strange how, in many respects, our relationship had come full circle since the bombing at the Belmont. That was around the time she’d become distant to me. She’d started seeing Calvin Drake on the side. From there, our relationship had been a series of missteps, bad judgments, and finally an awakening to reality—about our own fallacies and, ultimately, realizing how important we were to each other. In our own unique way, we’d learned that our lives were more fulfilled together than apart.
She sniffled, took in a deep breath. “You need to tell me what happened, Oz…why you think Riya was the target of this bomb.”
I took the water bottle and chugged until it was half empty. The chill cleared my mind. I was ready to share everything with her. I just wasn’t sure how much I could share with anyone else.
30
Nicole waved a hand in my face. I blinked and turned to her.
“You keep drifting away. I heard the medics asking if anyone wanted to speak to a trauma coun
selor. Want me to get him?”
“No, I’m fine.” I took in a breath until I coughed. “Seriously, you being here is the best help I could have.”
She kissed my hand. “You were talking about the details of your conversation with Riya, about the rumors she’d heard around the pharmaceutical industry.”
“Right…okay.” I relayed what Riya had told me. “See? Not many facts to go on. Only a lot of supposition.”
“So, if I heard you correctly, she suggested there might be some type of under-the-radar group that represents some of these big companies and that they conduct illegal activities to support their business goals.”
“I guess that’s what she was saying. She seemed nervous talking about it. I can now understand why.” I looked at the heap of melted metal in front of me. “She admitted to me out here on the steps that she was being cryptic, and she even apologized for it. But, to me, she was trying to be as helpful as possible. I respect her for that.”
A gust of wind blew Nicole’s hair into her face. I reached for it, but she curled the lock around her ear. “Oz, I think she might have known more than she told you.”
“I think so too. Really, she admitted as much. I just don’t know what else I need to know. I don’t know how to win this one, Nicole.” Frustration stung me.
“Oz, you shared everything with her—the threatening note, the text messages about the FDA corruption, the fact that you were shot at. Even if she were being ‘cryptic,’ she was trying to tell you something. Think. What could that be?”
I found a crack in the concrete and ran my shoes along it. Riya’s last words to me shot to the front of my mind.
“What is it, Oz?”
“Something she said just before she left.”
She squeezed my arm. “And?”
“She said, ‘I’ve learned in this business it’s difficult to see who your friends are and who your enemies are. Know what I mean?’ Doesn’t get much more cryptic than that.”
Nicole tapped her chin with her finger. Seemed to be her new go-to move when she was in deep thought. It was cute, really.
“So what are you thinking?” I prompted her. “I hope you’re connecting some dots, because my mind is in a haze right now. I got nothing.”
A few more taps, and then she turned to me. “You were shot at yesterday. I know Porter suggested it was probably some random thing, but deep down, I think we both know that’s highly unlikely, given what you’ve been involved in with Franklin.” She paused and watched a fireman walk by, remove his hard hat, and wipe his brow. Someone walked up and handed him some water.
She waited until we had our privacy back and then continued. “Riya, we thought, was only connected to all of this by sleeping with Franklin.”
“That’s not a very exclusive group,” I said.
She almost smiled, but she didn’t, which showed her superior maturity. Me, not so much.
“Unless we learn differently, she didn’t receive the text messages or get shot at or have any death threats. Yet, when she gets in her car, it explodes.”
“What are you saying?”
“Oz, they didn’t go after you. They went after her. This group she mentioned to you—they might think she knows something that can’t be shared. This group, whoever they are, has to be behind all of this.”
I nodded. “At the moment, we don’t even know what this is, much less who the group is. And why are they so afraid? Probably not because of Franklin being charged with murdering one of his mistresses. But the text messages about Franklin, his connection to the corruption… that has to be the key to this whole thing, right? They might want to eliminate anyone who could expose the truth. Maybe me, although I didn’t know a thing about this little group until I spoke with Riya.”
“It really depends on what they know, or think they know.”
“We’re saying ‘they’ a lot.”
I released a breath, but I still felt tension. “On the flip side, why go after me or Riya? Why wouldn’t they just kill Franklin, which eliminates the source?”
We were both silent for a moment. From a distance, Porter, standing next to the ATF agent, held a finger up, indicating for us to wait. He apparently wanted to talk to me again.
Nicole noticed his gesture. “Ozzie, are you going to spill all this to Porter? I mean, they killed Riya. I know we have no clue who they are. But I don’t want you to be next.” Her voice cracked at the end of her comment.
I gently squeezed her shoulder. “Franklin brought me into this for a reason. He said it was because I’d more than likely figure out his connection to Drake and the corruption scandal. Winston then plays a trick on me and gets me to sign the lawyer contract. On one hand, his strategy makes sense. But I get the feeling they were both shocked to see those text messages, his personal notes. They started pressing me pretty hard to get to the bottom of it, as if they were confused about who was behind all of this crap.”
“I see that look in your eye. You want to confront Winston and Franklin again.”
“Yep. I need to know if there is more to this thing than just the FDA corruption scandal.”
We turned our heads to see Porter and the ATF agent walking our way; then Nicole looked me in the eye. “They might want to put you…us…in protective custody.”
“I know. Look, I want you and Mackenzie to be safe. Once she gets home from school, check into a motel under some other name. Then text all the info to me. If you and Mackenzie are safe, I’ll be fine.”
“What about Porter and this ATF agent? Do you trust them?” she asked again, taking a quick glance at them.
“Riya’s last words are ringing in my ears. I know Porter, but…I don’t know—I’m cautious right now, maybe overly cautious. I’ll give them the facts that Riya had given me, the timeline that she’d shared. And because I’m such a good citizen, I’ll even add that one theory Riya threw out there about Pamela’s murderer might be someone she knew, maybe a jealous boyfriend.”
She leaned in and kissed me. “We can get through this, Ozzie. Me, you, Mackenzie. Oh, the dogs…”
“Leave the dogs with the Sandbergs. Ariel and her father will have a blast. But I’m hoping this will all be over quickly.”
She gave me another quick kiss, then turned and walked off as Porter and the ATF agent arrived. Before they started the Q&A session, I told them I had to make an urgent call. I was on the phone for less than two minutes. I called the only person I could trust in this type of situation with the necessary skills.
She said she’d do some research and talk to me in two hours.
31
Nicole texted me the name of the motel, their room number, their fake name, and even a picture of her and Mackenzie eating pizza while watching a Harry Potter movie.
I responded with a lot of emojis, showing how much I appreciated her taking care of my little girl…and herself.
Sitting on my regular barstool at Peretti’s, I watched Poppy, the bar manager and a former client from my lawyer days, clean off the counter with a rag and then drape it across her shoulder. She stuffed a few dollars of tips in her sweater, moved to the sink, and started scrubbing empty beer mugs. The bar was more than half full, and I saw only two other employees, who were hustling like their lives depended on it.
“You’re extra busy tonight.” I put my glass of Knob Creek to my lips and sipped.
I could have sworn I heard her growl. She flipped her red dreadlocks over her shoulder and then shuffled closer to me while racking cleaned mugs over her head. “Damn bitch, Barbara, didn’t show up for her shift. Third time in the last two weeks. Some people…”
I nodded. “Can’t get good help these days.”
She ceased movement and glared at me. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d say she was using her physical presence—she was shapely, but the term ‘Amazon woman’ came to mind—to intimidate me. “If you’re trying to be sarcastic, it’s not helping.”
I held up my arms. “Hey, I’m on your side, remembe
r?”
She racked a few more glasses. One slipped out of her hands and crashed to the concrete floor. “Fuck!”
One of the two other employees, an older man who usually never said much, ambled over. “I can clean that up.” Those might have been the first words I’d ever heard him speak.
“I got it, Fred.”
“But you’ve been working fourteen-hour days all week. Sit your butt down next to your friend for a few minutes. I’ll clean it up and handle the bar orders.”
I patted the seat next to me. She poured herself a shot of something clear, came around, and plopped onto the barstool. “Sorry if I bit your head off,” she said. “Then again, you’ve been bitten a lot lately.”
She made a sweeping gesture in front of my face and popped an eyebrow. I’d already shared with her an abbreviated version of how I’d suffered the cuts. “I want to know more about this bombing,” she said, knocking back a slug of her drink.
I told her what I could, which wasn’t much. It sounded somewhat similar to the version of what I’d shared with Porter and the ATF agent. I didn’t feel as bad with keeping that information from Porter and company after my phone conversation with Alex Troutt, a friend of mine who worked for the FBI out of their Boston office. I’d entrusted my life to Alex a couple of months back. She was the reason I’d found Mackenzie.
Alex and her close-knit team had put everything on the line while I’d been lured across the country in some type of game of riddles. Alex was level-headed, sharp as a tack, and quite headstrong. For me, she was a Godsend.
Alex and I had spoken twice in the last few hours. She thought she’d have an update for me by nine. It was now nine thirty.
My phone rattled on the counter. I quickly turned it over. I smiled, picked it up, and showed it to Poppy. It was a text from Nicole—a photo of Mackenzie making a goofy face. She had pizza sauce all over her cheeks.
“She’s a doll, Ozzie. Why aren’t you at home with her?”
ON Fire (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 5) (Redemption Thriller Series 17) Page 16