Fatal Mistake--A Novel

by Susan Sleeman

  “Are you kidding me?” Her voice shot up before she controlled it to keep from showing him how much he riled her. “First, I haven’t agreed to you calling in a replacement. Second, I didn’t say you could stay here. And third, if I do agree, there’s no way I’m going to sleep and leave you in charge.”

  “Oh, I’m staying, all right. With or without your permission.” His tone put up a solid brick wall that would be tough to break through. “I’m trained to spot threats—you’re not—making me the best one to take watch.”

  “I may not have your fancy FBI training, but I’ve lived the school of hard knocks the last few months, and I’ve done fine on my own.”

  He arched a brow. “Have you?”

  “I’m alive, and Oren hasn’t found me.”

  “Yet.” One word, but the deadly implication lingered in the air.

  “All the more reason for me to stay awake and remain vigilant.”

  “We’ll compromise and take turns standing watch.” He paused and locked eyes with her. “Because when people get tired, they make mistakes. And in your case, Tara, any mistake you make could be fatal.”

  * * *

  10:05 p.m.

  Cal disconnected his call with Sheriff Gorton to reaffirm his deputies continued to stand watch. After Cal had confirmed Tara’s identity, he’d arranged with the sheriff to set up a perimeter in the area until the Knights could arrive and assist Cal in escorting her back to Washington. Unfortunately, that only prevented Keeler from driving up to the property. It wouldn’t stop him from hiking through acres of surrounding forest. Cal needed to remain alert, and despite saying he planned to take turns standing watch, he’d be on guard every minute of the night.

  He stepped onto the balcony. A soft breeze whispered through the trees and carried cooler air, relieving the heat from inside. Tara had dragged out the sling-back chair and announced she would sit in it for the rest of the night.

  He didn’t like her being outside and exposed, but he’d pushed her far enough for one night, and if he ordered her to come inside, she’d probably try to fling him off the edge.

  Despite the potential danger surrounding them, thoughts of her trying to pick him up and heave him over the rail made him smile. She’d become one tough little cookie. Not that even with her new strength she could accomplish such a feat, but he could see her trying.

  He let his gaze settle on her face bathed in the moon’s golden glow. He studied her big, bright eyes ringed with long lashes, her high cheekbones, and her makeup-free, flawless complexion, and his heart took a tumble.

  She was beautiful, no doubt, but it was more than that. As she’d asked about his reasons for putting a detail on her aunt, he couldn’t answer right away because he actually cared about what she thought about him. That was a new one for him. He hadn’t cared about other people’s opinions for eons, and the thought had kept his mouth closed.

  She caught him staring at her and frowned. “I’ve got the first watch if you want to take a beauty nap.”

  “I’m pretty enough, thank you very much,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood. It only gained him a roll of her eyes. “Since we’re both awake, what say I run a few things past you for your opinion?”

  “What kind of things?” Suspicion lingered in her eyes.

  He liked the strength she’d acquired, but not this guarded attitude that said she’d lost her innocence. He couldn’t even remember a time when he thought people were basically good. Certainly not since he landed on foreign soil and took part in Operation Iraqi Freedom followed by years of deployment in Afghanistan. He’d experienced terrorism firsthand, learning lessons that she was coming to understand in a very graphic way. He’d been a big part of painting that picture for her. Now, he would play an even bigger role, and he didn’t like being the one to chase out her faith in her fellow man. But his opinion didn’t matter. Not with a killer to apprehend.

  He firmed his resolve to do his job. “I’ve lived in Keeler’s head for the last six months. I’ve walked in his shoes and talked to everyone who’s had anything to do with him since he was born.” He crossed over to her and rested against the railing. “We’re hunting him based on my conclusions, and it would help if you shot holes in it if I’m incorrect.”

  “Go on,” she said, not really admitting she’d help him.

  “First, you should know, with the number of lives Keeler has taken, he fits the definition of a serial killer.” He glanced at Tara to see her reaction, but her expression remained blank.

  “These killers,” Cal continued, “are driven by motives and reasons that are uniquely theirs. But there are certain interpersonal traits common to serial murderers. They include superficial charm, a grandiose sense of self-worth, pathological lying, and the manipulation of others. Does any of this sound like Keeler?”

  “Maybe,” she said, sounding unaffected by his question, but the snap of a rubber band on her wrist told him otherwise.

  He didn’t know what was up with the bands, but logic said she used them as a coping mechanism. He chose not to make her uncomfortable by questioning her about them and waited for her to continue.

  “Oren was far from charming in high school. He embraced the Goth look and gave everyone an attitude, including me. Oddly enough, even when he showed such a hard exterior, I always thought he had a naïve outlook. I know it’s been months, but I can still hardly believe he’s the bomber.”

  Cal knew Keeler was as far from naïve as they come. “What I don’t understand is why someone so into Goth would enlist in the army.”

  “I never got that either. I know his dad forced that issue. His mom didn’t want to talk about it. Our friendship had ended, so I don’t know the details except that he stayed in for four years and then went to college on Uncle Sam’s money to get a degree in electrical engineering.”

  “But his father’s death ended that, right?”

  She nodded. “His dad had a heart attack in Oren’s third year. He had to go home to run the farm. As it turns out, he ran it into the ground. Maybe if he’d finished college he’d have gotten a good job instead of assembling security systems and things would be different.”

  “Degree or not, those three years in college gave him the skills to create very complicated bombs.”

  She frowned but didn’t comment.

  “Tell me about after high school,” Cal said. “How often did you see him then?”

  “I was in college when his dad died, but when I came home to see June, I’d occasionally run into him. By then, he’d let go of the clean-cut military look and was back to the Goth style. And as I told you before, the last time I saw him was at June’s house in January. He’d cleaned up his act and was quite charming.”

  “Charm and manipulation,” Cal muttered. “True hallmarks of a serial killer.”

  She met his gaze. “That charm and manipulation is true of you, too, but you’re not a serial killer.”

  He deserved her comment but that didn’t stop him from cringing and looking back at the night scenery. “Serial killers fail to accept responsibility for their actions. They’re irresponsible and impulsive and lack empathy, guilt, or remorse. They also don’t have realistic life goals and exhibit poor behavioral controls.” He met her gaze again and made sure to keep his tone light. “None of this can be said for me.”

  “Touché. Your need to find Oren at any cost is very clear, telling me how goal oriented you are.”

  Cal still needed her to answer his questions, so he let her comment slide, which in itself confirmed her claim. “Keeler has the added distinction of having been radicalized.”

  “Which means what exactly?”

  “Our research says he turned his back on his country, accepted ISIS’s views, and aligned himself with them. We don’t believe he’s acting as an official part of the group. More like a loner with loose ties to the organization, hence the Lone Wolf name assigned to him.”

  She shifted to face him, and he could tell he’d gained her interest. �
�Isn’t that odd? Going off on his own like that?”

  “In today’s world, no. He’s one of thousands across the country committed to Islamic groups but only possessing a shallow understanding of Islam.”

  “Then why join them?”

  “People like Keeler are restless and feel trapped in an uneventful life. They’re disenfranchised or alienated. They long to belong to something where they’re welcomed and their grievances are validated. At the same time, they become obsessed with deadly terrorist acts carried out in the name of faith. They think committing these acts will relieve their emotional distress. No cause. Just self-serving violence.”

  She sighed and twisted her hands together. At least she wasn’t snapping the rubber bands and making her wrist even redder.

  “I don’t know about the acts in the name of faith,” she finally said. “But the rest of what you described sounds very much like the Oren I knew in high school.”

  “So my thoughts are on target?”

  She nodded and got up to stare over the balcony. “You’ve never told me how Oren killed them. I mean, I know he used bombs, but you didn’t share any details. Or did you on the phone that night? I can’t remember.”

  “No,” he replied, and wished she hadn’t chosen this topic for tonight.

  She’d said she’d only heard about one woman killed by Keeler since she’d left D.C., meaning she didn’t know about today’s bombing. He would have to tell her about that and share the details of other bombs at some point, but he didn’t want to mention it tonight and spook her into taking off again.

  “Maybe that should wait,” he suggested. “Until later.”

  She spun so quickly, if she’d been an attacker, he couldn’t have reacted fast enough, and as a former SEAL, he moved lightning fast.

  “Please stop trying to control every little thing. My ex was a master at pushing me around, and I won’t stand for it.” Barely contained anger vibrated in her voice.

  Cal was hot and tired, and if she continued to argue with him he might snap, but June had told him about the jerk Tara had split with, and Cal didn’t want to add to her distress, so he held his frustration in check for now.

  “We’ll talk about it another day.” He forced out a smile to make peace with her. “I promise.”

  “I need the information tonight to make my decision,” she insisted, sending him over the edge.

  “Okay, fine. You know best. You want to know about the bombs? You got it.” He snapped his phone from his belt clip with more force than necessary and navigated to his photos.

  Despite his irritation, he kept the device at an angle to prevent her from seeing horrific pictures from bomb scenes and photos of the actual device Keeler had reconstructed.

  He paused at a sketch he’d drawn of the bomb minus Keeler’s skull and crossbones and held out his phone. “His devices are made of white PVC. Do you remember seeing something like this at the pump house?”

  She shook her head. “I wish I could remember, but nothing comes to mind. What is it?”

  “It’s called a necklace bomb because it’s placed around the victim’s neck.”

  Her eyes flashed wide exactly like he expected would happen when she learned of the horror behind Keeler’s bomb choice.

  “The explosives are in the pipe?”

  He nodded. “He fastens it around their neck and the device has a motion switch inside so the woman can’t move without setting off the bomb. He then leaves and detonates it from a remote location so he doesn’t get hurt.”

  “It…oh my…oh…the bomb must blow—”

  “It does,” he interrupted before she spoke aloud words that would make the situation even more unpalatable for her.

  She blinked hard. “And that’s what Oren is doing?”

  Cal nodded and waited for her reaction. She didn’t lash out, cry, or make any noise, for that matter. She nodded and went pale.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” she whispered, her fingers going for a rubber band and pulling hard. “I can’t believe someone I know is capable of doing something so terrible.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, her finger snapping the band over and over. He reached out and held her hand so she couldn’t release the rubber band.

  Her eyes flashed open, and she jerked her hand free. “Don’t. Don’t do that. I need something to help me handle my stress. But then you probably think I’m foolish and the rubber bands are a big waste of time.”

  “Hardly,” he replied, and tucked his hand back into his pocket. “I know what you’re feeling, Tara. Believe me, I know. If there was any way I could take the pain and distress from you, I would.”

  Chapter 8

  Surprised to see the sun, Tara blinked a few times and stared up at treetops dusted with the golden glow of morning sunlight. She’d slept deeply and had a nightmare-free night for the first time since she’d discovered Oren’s bomb-making supplies.

  She closed her eyes again and savored the sun’s warmth, the soft breeze drifting through the window, and the melodic birds singing from surrounding pines. Peace. Heaven-sent peace.

  Movement sounded from the far end of the room, and her eyes flew open, her heart racing like a Thoroughbred. Agent Riggins stood looking out the far window, his back to her.

  Right. It’s him. He’s still here. Waiting for an answer.

  She stifled a sigh to keep from drawing his attention. She’d forgotten that this superagent, this man who infuriated her one minute and sent her pulse tripping faster the next, was in her little home away from the world.

  She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but around two a.m., when the air turned too cool to stay outside, she’d dragged her chair inside, dropped into it to rest her eyes for a moment, and apparently nodded off. At some time, he’d covered her with a blanket. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t felt it.

  If it had been Oren…

  A shiver raked down her spine, and she forced her attention back to the man who seemed to take up all the space in the room. He’d shed his jacket, revealing a custom-tailored white shirt, wide at the shoulders and narrowing to a trim waist, and he’d rolled up the sleeves. His body looked like it was sculpted from marble, and his heart likely was, too, though he’d shown enough emotions last night to prove that he had a physical attraction to her, one he didn’t want to have.

  And here she was letting him get to her, too, even when his actions resembled Nolan’s. If that wasn’t enough reason to guard her heart, Agent Riggins had a singular purpose. Find Oren, and if he had to use people like her or her aunt along the way, then it seemed as if he had no qualms in doing so.

  Putting up a solid wall on her emotions, she removed the blanket and folded it. He glanced at her. She waited for his first question of the day—for him to ask if she would voluntarily go back with him or if he’d need to take her into custody as he’d threatened.

  He held up a steaming mug. “Hope you don’t mind, but I made coffee.”

  She gaped at him. How had she missed the coffeemaker’s ready beep? She really had zonked out if she hadn’t heard the shrill alarm, not to mention feeling the blanket settling over her.

  “You needed the rest,” he said, as if reading her mind, before he resumed looking out the window. “Oh, and you should know. I’ve arranged for someone to take your place in the tower. She’ll be here in a few hours.”

  Tara eyed him. “You had no right to call anyone, let alone put the wheels in motion without my input.”

  “Something you need to know about me.” He turned and faced her full-on, the look of a hunter in his eyes. “I’m relentless in my pursuit of Keeler. I might step on your toes along the way, but I mean no harm in my actions.”

  She crossed her arms. “You think a blanket apology in advance will excuse all of your future actions?”

  He shrugged.

  “Do most people let you get away with taking over like this, Agent Riggins?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure what you mean
by ‘most people,’ but if you’re asking if I behave like this in my personal life, I don’t have a life outside of work, so there’s no one to offend.”

  “But would you?” she asked, though she had no business going down this path.

  He shook his head. “Relationships require mutual respect. Nothing respectful about not including you in plans that impact your life.”

  “And yet you know it bothers me, and you’d do it again?”

  “If it moved us closer to Keeler at a faster pace and helped us stop another woman from losing her life?” His breath came in hard fast bursts, his emotions churning in a melee on his face. “You better believe I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”

  She stood watching his chest rise and fall with the passion he exuded for his work. His continued overbearing and controlling attitude should be putting her off. Instead, all she could think was that if he really meant what he’d said about mutual respect between a man and woman, he wasn’t as superficial as she’d first thought, and he would be worth getting to know as a man and not this relentless agent.

  Their gazes met and held for a moment, the air seeming to heat up in the space, but she ignored it, he ignored it, and a silent message of understanding passed between them. Though they were attracted to each other, neither would act upon it.

  Never had she communicated so much in a single look.

  He lazily drew his focus away to glance at his watch. “Now that the sun is up, if Keeler has tracked you, we can’t risk him seeing my car at the gate. I’ll stash it in the woods and grab a change of clothes while I’m out there.”

  “Or you could get in the car and drive back to the airport.” Or I could take off while you’re gone.

  “I’m not leaving town without you. You can be certain of that.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and crossed over to her, each step reminding her of a panther stalking his prey. His piercing gaze pinned her in place.

  “Don’t even think about leaving,” he said.

  “You’re a mind reader now?” she asked, hating that he was right.