Fatal Mistake--A Novel
Page 11
“Team in position.” The SWAT commander’s voice came over Cal’s earbud.
“Roger that, we’re a go in five,” Cal replied, and looked at Rick, who gave his nod of readiness.
Cal shouldered a backpack of entry tools and lifted his weapon. They crept forward and reached the clearing where they bolted across the grass and flattened their backs against the wall on the porch. Cal dropped to his knees and slid a snake camera under the door to check for explosive devices or triggers Keeler might have rigged on the door.
“We’re clear,” Cal whispered, and tucked the camera into his vest. He fractured the door with a battering ram, sending the door swinging inward.
“FBI,” Rick called out as he entered.
Cal followed and surveyed the small room, noting a door to the bathroom. A small kitchen was located on one end of the room, an unmade bed on the other. A plump sofa and chair in the middle. No one in sight.
Rick signaled his plan to search the bathroom, and Cal covered him by standing at attention for an attack from any direction. Rick disappeared into the room, and soon the rings of a shower curtain grated along a rod.
“Clear,” Rick called out.
Cal approached the edge of the bed. Hoping to find Keeler hiding underneath, he dropped to the floor and lifted the dust ruffle. Empty, but on the far side between the bed and the wall, a bright ray of sun filtered through the white fabric ruffle, and his gut said someone was lying on the floor.
He came to his feet and signaled to Rick to cover him. Silently, Cal inched toward the foot of the bed. His heart racing with the thrill of the chase, he swung around the end and trained his weapon on the floor.
He exhaled, coming up short.
“What is it?” Rick asked.
Shaking his head, Cal eased closer and dropped to the ground next to a Caucasian woman who looked like she was in her early fifties.
Rick joined him. “Oh, man.”
“Man is right.” Cal laid his fingers aside her neck to check for a pulse, then sat back on his heels and looked up at Rick. “I was hoping to find someone here, but not a woman, and definitely not one who isn’t alive.”
“You think we were meant to find her?” Rick asked.
“Maybe.” Cal stood. “Or this place could be set to blow, maybe set to take us out, and we got here before the device detonated.”
“Your thoughts seem more on target.”
“Then let’s sweep this place and clear the exterior,” Cal replied.
They moved forward in silence and searched the small cabin, quickly determining that no threat existed inside.
“As much as I want to check for ID on the woman,” Cal said. “The exterior could be hot.”
Rick nodded and backed to the door.
Cal informed the SWAT commander of their movements, and they backtracked outside. A narrow crawl space ran under the cabin, protected from animals by wooden lattice, a perfect place to hide an explosive device.
Cal circled the building, checking drain spouts and looking for sections where the lattice had been disturbed or the vegetation mashed down. Rick stepped along with Cal, his gun at the ready.
“No obvious disturbance,” Cal said. “I’ll check underneath to be sure.”
He ripped off the front lattice. With a flashlight in hand, he shimmied into the dank space. Spiderwebs caught at his helmet, sending creepy crawlies running, but he tuned them out and shone his flashlight at the underside of the house and the supports. At the far side, he noticed something affixed to a support beam beneath the area where the woman lay.
Cal pressed his mic. “Possible device spotted on northeast corner of cabin. Everyone evacuate to a safe distance.”
Rick peered into the space. “What can I do?”
Already crawling ahead on his elbows, Cal called over his shoulder, “Let me get a good look at the device, and I’ll let you know.”
At the corner, he flipped onto his back and shined his flashlight up at a simple bomb made with a rudimentary timer strapped to four sticks of dynamite. The timer counted down, hitting five minutes as he watched.
“Basic device,” Cal shouted, but didn’t take his eyes from the bomb.
Simple or not, devices malfunctioned all the time. The men could make it out of range before the timer hit zero and no one would be hurt, but Cal wouldn’t let the device destroy forensic evidence in the cabin. Not to mention tearing apart the woman above.
Cal dug his tool kit from his pack as he saw Rick scooting toward him.
“You should take off,” Cal said.
Rick came to a stop by Cal and stared up at the device. “You can see the entire bomb and there’s no antiremoval device. If you can’t render that one safe without taking us both out, you shouldn’t be on our team.”
Rick’s teasing gave Cal a chuckle and helped diffuse the tension.
Cal tuned Rick out and set to work, removing the power source from the device and halting the timer at two minutes forty-nine seconds.
Cal sighed out a breath and dropped his arms to the ground. “Max is going to let us have it for not properly suiting up before tackling this bomb.”
“We’ll need to redirect him to the fact that we preserved evidence that could bring in Keeler.”
“Good luck with that.” Cal huffed a laugh. “Do you think this bomb was meant for us or to cover up the woman’s murder?”
“Hard to tell without tracking back the person who reported this place.”
“Are you up for running it down?” Cal asked.
“I’m up for anything that gets me out of this sweaty Kevlar.” Rick grimaced. “And I have to admit, I’d like to figure out the woman’s ID and how she’s connected to Keeler.”
“I didn’t notice a purse or luggage inside that could provide an ID, did you?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Then we need to get the medical examiner out here ASAP to search and fingerprint her.” Cal dug out his phone. “I’ll take a few pictures of the device and call Sheriff Gorton to rush the ME.”
“I’ll be at the truck.” Rick scrambled out from under the house while Cal shot photos with his phone and then scooted out, too. He ripped off his helmet before getting to his feet and joining Rick at the SUV. The breeze, though hot and sticky, cooled his perspiration-soaked head.
Cal removed his Kevlar vest and set it next to Rick’s in the cargo area, where they would let them dry out before placing them back in their bags. He dug out his phone and sat on the tailgate to dial Sheriff Gorton.
“Man, oh, man,” Gorton said after Cal explained the situation. “This hasn’t been my day.”
“I hate this as much as you do,” Cal replied. “But if you get the ME out here we’ll be able to move forward.”
Gorton sighed. “I don’t know, man. I mean, we’re a small office. I haven’t had a single murder in my ten years in this job. I honestly don’t know if our examiner is up to handling this situation to your satisfaction. Maybe we should take our time here. You know, get someone in from the state medical examiner’s office instead.”
“Time is not a luxury I have,” Cal said forcefully. “Get your examiner out here ASAP, and if they’re not up to speed on proper forensic protocol, I’ll walk them through procedures.”
“But I—”
“Now, Sheriff! Get them out here now.” Frustrated, Cal hung up before the guy voiced additional objections.
“Not cooperating?” Rick asked.
“No, he’s cooperating, but he’s freaked out by the whole thing.” Cal shook his head. “Remind me never to work a crime in a rural county.”
“I’m guessing you won’t want such a reminder if Keeler strikes in the boonies again.”
“You’re right. I won’t.” Cal shoved his phone into his pocket. “Go ahead and take the SUV back to the team and send Brynn over here with her equipment.”
“You sure you got this?” Rick appraised him.
Cal was getting perturbed at everyone questioning his emoti
onal stability. He gave a sour laugh. “Nothing to do here except wait for the ME to show up and for SWAT to finish their search. Which is unlikely to produce Keeler as he runs from his bombs. So yeah, I think I can handle things on my own.”
Chapter 13
Mount Hood National Forest, Oregon
4:50 p.m.
Cal had given Tara an impossible choice. Stay in the command truck where they’d turned off the air-conditioning to save fuel and it was inferno hot, or go with him to the cabin he’d arranged for their overnight stay. On the surface, the cabin seemed the best choice, but the rest of the team would stay at the crime scene until later in the day, and she’d be alone with Cal. Not a good thing with the way they’d been alternating between butting heads and fighting an obvious attraction. But maybe she didn’t need to worry. Not with the way he’d arrived back on site, his lips in a flat line that discouraged discussion and his shoulders rigid as he marched to the rental SUV.
She followed at a slower pace and took a few moments to pull her damp shirt away from her body and flap the fabric in the breeze.
Cal jerked open her car door and huffed out an impatient sigh. “This is no place to dawdle.”
She peered at him. “Do you actually think Oren is still hanging out somewhere near here?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” he said matter-of-factly.
He didn’t have to say anything else. He was right. If Oren wanted her dead, he’d have to be within shooting or bombing range. Not a comforting thought.
She climbed into the SUV, but Cal shielded his eyes from the sun and surveyed the area before he took the driver’s seat. She wanted to think his cautionary approach was overkill, but he’d just convinced her that danger followed her everywhere, and she needed to heed the warning. With that being true, she wouldn’t roll over and count on him to protect her. She’d continue to stay alert and use the self-protection skills she’d learned over the past few months.
Protect yourself. Of course. But what about God? Shouldn’t she ask for His protection, too, or had she turned her back like Cal suggested? If not, where did God fit in all of this?
He didn’t. Or at least He hadn’t. If He wanted her to be safe, would He have let Oren shoot her and get away with it? He could have arranged for Cal to arrest Oren at the pump house and many times since then, ending her terror and the loss of additional life, but He hadn’t done so.
No, she believed in Him, in His mighty power, but she wasn’t sure about Him knowing what was best for her right now, and she needed to focus on what she could do to remain safe.
She kept her gaze moving over the roads and through the dark forested area until they reached a gated driveway. Cal punched a code into the lockbox and moved the car onto the drive before the gate swung closed with a solid clang behind them. They wound up the drive until it opened to a wide clearing holding a two-story house with five different rooflines, a two-car garage, and three decks visible from the front. Rough cedar covered the exterior and brick wrapped the corners.
“This place is huge.” She glanced at Cal. “I thought you said it was a cabin.”
Cal used a remote to open the garage door. “That’s what Sheriff Gorton told me, but we obviously have differing definitions of ‘cabin.’”
“I was picturing small and quaint, and that the team would be cramped into a little space. Now we won’t be crowding each other.”
Cal shifted into park. “I’ll take your bag in and come back for the groceries.”
They got out and she met him at the tailgate, where he lifted her tote from the back.
“I can carry it.” She took the bag from him in an effort to prove her independence, but more likely, she needed to believe she retained some control of her life.
He didn’t seem to give her actions much thought, but he crossed over to the steel entry door leading into the house. He unlocked it and punched in the security code for the alarm. Tara watched and memorized the code in case she had to take off without alerting him.
She left him to fetch the groceries that were delivered to the crime scene by a deputy and stepped into the wonderfully cool air-conditioned home where vaulted ceilings covered in rustic pine and rough-hewn log beams soared high. Perfect. She could actually breathe in the wide-open space. She stepped into the family room that included floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking another large deck with steps leading down to a small creek and lush woods.
“Wow.” Cal entered and paused to look around before carrying the groceries to the adjoining kitchen.
The scenic calm of the outdoors called to Tara. She stepped to the windows to gaze over the yard. Peace and tranquility sat on the other side of the glass. She rested a hand on the pane, feeling like a prisoner. How she wanted to go outside, sit in the cool of the shade, and draw in fresh air and clear out her fear and frustration. Maybe look for God in the beauty surrounding them and believe He really was watching over her.
Cal joined her, standing so close he took over her thoughts and reminded her to keep a solid wall between them.
She moved a few steps away. “Amazing view, right?”
“Not defensible, though,” he mumbled. “I’ll need you to stay away from these windows.”
She spun to look at him. “Oren can’t possibly know where I am right now, can he?”
“I can assure you we weren’t followed, but locals arranged this place, so anything is possible.” He offered her a flicker of a smile, but she’d gotten to know him well enough to tell it was forced. “For now, join me in the kitchen, and we can put away the groceries.”
He led the way, and she followed, glancing back at the window and now seeing what Cal had seen, walls of glass that Oren could shatter and step through to kill her.
“Omelets okay for dinner?” Cal asked as he unloaded contents from a paper bag onto the white quartz countertop.
She pulled another bag closer and dug inside. “I’m not very hungry.”
“But you will eat.” He eyed her. “You need to keep up your strength, and you didn’t eat lunch.”
She shot him a look over the bag. “You noticed?”
“I notice everything about you, Tara.”
She should have expected he wouldn’t miss anything, but the tone of his response had nothing to do with his role as an investigator. He’d moved into the personal realm, and she wouldn’t go there with him.
She turned back to the bag and lifted out a loaf of hearty wheat bread. “Looks like we have a good selection of food.”
Cal held up a bottle of orange juice. “Would you like some?”
She nodded, and while he grabbed glasses, she searched for a safe topic that didn’t involve Oren. But what did they have to talk about other than Oren or their personal lives?
Cal set a tall glass in front of her, poured thick, pulpy juice, then made eye contact.
“Do you like your job?” she said quickly before she fell prey to his bottomless brown eyes.
He set down the container, never taking his gaze from hers. “Do I make it seem like I don’t?”
Perfect. Irritate her by avoiding an answer again, and there was no danger that she’d fall prey to her developing feeling for him. “Do you ever answer a question instead of offering another question?”
“Sorry. I guess it’s a habit from my SEAL days, and to a great extent, something I need to practice as an FBI agent.”
“So do you like it?” she asked again. This time she was honestly interested and wasn’t making small talk.
“Most days.” He put the juice in the refrigerator.
“And on those other days?”
He shrugged and folded the paper bag. Was he as cool and in control as he always seemed, or was he a master at hiding his stress?
She suddenly wanted to know. “How do you deal with all the bad things you see on the job?”
He looked like he wanted to fire off an easy answer, but he planted his hands on the counter and met her gaze in earnest. “SEALs have a motto that explai
ns it, I guess. The only easy day was yesterday.”
“Which means what when it comes to coping?”
“I prepare for the worst at the start of each day.” Staring down at the counter, he didn’t move. “Sometimes the day turns out to be the worst—like the first of the month when Keeler strikes.” He shook his head, then looked up and plastered one of his fake smiles on his face. “But terrible events like that don’t happen every day.”
“You mentioned earlier about situations where turning your back on faith doesn’t seem so far-fetched. Days like those must be the ones that challenge your beliefs.”
He remained silent for a long time, his lips pressed together. “My faith has pretty much been on the rocks for a while now.”
“And that’s why you don’t ever let down your guard,” she said, and ignored the fact that her lack of trust in God resembled Cal’s struggle.
He shrugged and looked away.
Right. He didn’t plan to talk about it, and she wouldn’t keep heading that direction either.
He took over emptying her grocery bag and gestured at a stool. “What about you? Tell me more about your job.”
“Way to change the subject.”
“Hey.” A tight smile spread across his mouth. “You asked about me, so it’s only fair that I ask about your job.”
“I suppose you mean the government translator job that I had before Oren tried to kill me.”
“Right. They probably didn’t hold it for you, did they?” He set apples next to the bananas. “I’d be glad to talk to your boss and let him know you had no control over this situation. Maybe they’ll give you back your job.”
She settled on the stool and considered how to respond to him. One minute he acted hard as nails, not open to talking, demanding, pushing her around, and the next, he appeared genuinely considerate, doing things like offering to help her get her job back. Or even more importantly, he was willing to sacrifice his life for hers. She was smart enough to know he could be both controlling and kind. The big question for her was how he lived out those characteristics off the job, but to find out, she’d have to breach a wall to his personal life that was best left in place.