His phone rang, and he looked at the screen. “I need to take this call.”
“Brynn,” he said into the phone as he left the room.
Tara understood that he had to be careful about discussing the investigation in front of her, but she didn’t like being left in the dark when her life was on the line. She finished unpacking the groceries, and he returned in short order.
His tortured gaze landed on her, and she didn’t have to wonder if Brynn gave him bad news, just the specifics of the news.
“What is it?” she asked.
He came back to the island and took the stool next to her. “I have something difficult to share.”
“Is it Aunt June?”
“June is fine.” He set his phone on the sleek countertop.
Tara exhaled. “Then what?”
“You know that we didn’t find Keeler at the cabin, but I didn’t tell you that we found a body. A woman.”
She opened her mouth to ask for details, but his phone dinged, stealing his attention.
He picked it up and tapped the screen. “We haven’t been able to identify her through any of our methods, and we need you to look at the woman’s picture to see if you know her.”
“But I don’t know anyone in Oregon. I purposefully made sure of that.”
“I need you to look. Just in case.” He pressed the button to unlock his phone. “She’s been dead for some time, so you should prepare yourself for what you’re about to see. It’s nothing gory, but still…”
Tara took a deep breath and turned his hand to look at the picture.
“Oh, no.” Her stomach sent the orange juice roiling, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“You know her,” Cal said in his usual straightforward tone.
Tara nodded and fought for enough composure to speak. “I don’t actually know her or even know her name. She worked in the post office in Dufur. I talked to her when I picked up my mail.”
Tara wrapped her arms around her waist. “She was such a sweet person. She always went the extra mile for me, and now…” Tara’s sorrow begging for release, she shook her head. “…now because I talked to her, she’s dead.”
* * *
Wondering how to help Tara, Cal watched her. Swirls of dirt covered her clothes and a few blades of grass clung to her hair. She’d pulled it into a ponytail that morning, but the force of the truck blast had freed sections, leaving them sticking out like porcupine quills.
All he could think to do to help her handle yet another blow was reach out to pluck the grass from her hair.
“I’m not sure that will help much, but thanks.” She peered at him, tears rolling down her cheeks before she turned away and he saw her shoulders shaking.
It was about time she actually cried and not just those few tears at the hospital. She’d continued to exhibit incredible strength, too much, if you asked him. If she kept burying her emotions, the dam would eventually burst. Maybe at the wrong time, wrong place, and she could get hurt. She needed to let go and have a good cry now.
And what about you?
Okay, fine, there was no way he was ever going to sit down and cry like a little girl, but he could take his own advice and find a way to alleviate some of his stress.
Prayer. The thought came unbidden.
It hadn’t helped in the past, so he shrugged it off.
But why did you call out for God’s help when you thought Tara was in danger?
Old habit. Just an old habit. He dismissed the idea to focus on Tara.
Her crying snapped his tight rein on keeping a professional distance, and he took her hand. She shot him a surprised look but didn’t withdraw. Tears continued to trail down her cheeks, leaving a clean path through the dirt. He lifted his free hand to swipe them away, but touching her so intimately wasn’t a good idea on so many levels that he didn’t know which reason topped the list, so he held back.
“So what happens next?” She looked down at their hands as if she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“The team finishes processing the scene and prepares the evidence to ship to the FBI lab in Quantico. We’ll all hop a plane, and when we get back to D.C., we’ll debrief and make a plan while Brynn and her team pore over the evidence.”
“And then you’ll take me to the pump house.” She went quiet for a few moments and raised his hand to stare at it. “What happened to your knuckles?”
Two knuckles sustained second-degree burns and had blistered, but today when he’d punched the truck they’d broken open to expose raw, red skin. “An on-the-job injury.”
“They were burned. A bomb?” Her head shot up. “These are fresh. Another bomb. Dallas, right? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you had enough on your plate right now.”
She pulled her hand back and sat up straight. “Don’t do that. Don’t spare me. If I’m going to help find Oren, I need details of his actions. Even if it hurts, I want you to tell me about Dallas.”
“Why don’t we hold off until later? You can take a shower and unwind from the day. If you still want to know more after that, I’ll share every piece of information within your clearance level.”
She stared at him long and hard. “You want to catch Oren, right? Desperately, I mean. I see it in your eyes. In the way you put this manhunt before everything else. You should be happy that I want to know more to help.”
She was the second person to comment on his drive to find Keeler in the last few hours, and they were both right. He was pushing things, but at what cost to himself, the team, and even Tara?
“The bomb,” she said. “The woman in Dallas. I know her, right?”
Cal nodded. “Allison Foster.”
The blue of Tara’s eyes darkened, and she panted for air as if anxiety might take her at any moment. She didn’t say a word but seemed to internalize the pain.
“I’m sorry, Tara.” He assumed his response came across as trite, but he honestly meant it.
“I don’t need to wait until later. I want to know everything about Dallas now.” Her voice wavered, but she firmed her shoulders. “Then when we get back to D.C., I’ll commit myself and my time one hundred percent to helping find Oren.”
Cal nodded at her sudden resolve to assist in the investigation, but unfortunately, the things she would have to do would be painful for her. Equally painful as the events she’d survived thus far, and he worried she’d fold under the stress.
Chapter 14
Late-night pizza never tasted so good to Cal as he shared it with the Knights in the living room at the safe house. The whole team gathering under one roof lowered the odds of Keeler harming Tara and helped Cal relax a notch. Not Tara. She’d tucked her feet under her in the corner of the sectional sofa and didn’t seem relaxed or hungry. She’d pushed her fork around her plate at dinner, too, eating only a few bites of the omelet despite his encouragement.
Maybe her tension now had to do with the fact that they’d finished eating and the team planned to review notes from the day. At least the ones she could be privy to.
And Cal had to begin the discussion with a particularly hard one for her. “Before we get started, I need to bring you up to speed with something Tara shared earlier today.”
Her gaze shot up to him, panic riding on the surface. “Is this about Oren asking me out?”
All heads snapped in her direction, and Cal would rather face down a marauding army than share the details, but he needed to keep the team apprised of all developments. “Do you want to tell it or should I?”
“You, please.” She jumped to her feet and began pacing in the attached dining area.
Cal forced himself to ignore her frantic steps. “Back in high school, Keeler asked Tara to go out with him, and it turns out he had a thing for her for years, but she didn’t return his affections.”
“How’s that related to the bombings?” Rick asked, his gaze fixed on her, but she seemed oblivious to him.
“When she ran into Keeler back in Ja
nuary,” Cal said. “He asked her out again.”
Tara spun, her hands clenched into tight fists. “And I not only said no, but when I did, he wouldn’t let it go. I got irritated at him and snapped, making a mess of the whole thing.”
“And soon after that, he set his first bomb.” Shane slid forward in his chair. “Likely the catalyst we’ve been looking for.”
“Exactly,” Cal said.
Tara’s shoulders curved forward as if trying to make herself disappear. “And it’s all my fault.”
“Please don’t take responsibility for Keeler’s actions,” Cal said, fully aware of the fact that he’d mentioned the same thing to her earlier.
Experience told him people had to hear this advice repeatedly to internalize it. He ought to know. So many people had lost their lives because of his failures at work. Sure, other people made on-the-job mistakes, but people died when he failed, and no matter his effort, no matter using the skills God had given him to the best of his ability, women were still dying, and he was to blame.
“How can I not feel responsible?” she asked. “Wouldn’t these women still be alive if I’d been gentler when I let Oren down?”
“Maybe or maybe not,” Shane said. “This path has already been set in Keeler’s life. Even if you hadn’t rejected him, something else would have set him off and made him act. We can’t control his actions. Only God can do that.”
But Cal knew more than any of the team members that God seemed to be silent when it came to Keeler.
“When you’ve had time to process this, you’ll see we’re right,” Shane added.
Tara looked away, smoothed her hair back, and used one of the rubber bands circling her wrist to put a ponytail in place. She remained frozen in time, gazing out the patio door while everyone sat watching.
Cal stared at the slender curve of her neck, the sight beckoning him to discover if her skin was as soft as it seemed. He sat on his hands, his knuckles stinging, the pain bringing his mind back to the task at hand. He needed to remember his commitment. Remain focused on the job. Forget all about any kind of relationship, catch more bad guys, and make them pay. And maybe, just maybe, if he put enough criminals behind bars, his work would make up for some of the recent tragedies.
“What about forensics at the cabin, Brynn?” Shane asked, employing his peacemaking and negotiation skills that he often used to move the team out of a tense situation. “Did you discover anything there?”
“Keeler’s fingerprints,” Brynn replied. “But that only proves that Keeler is—or was—here in Oregon.”
“How can you be sure they’re his prints?” Tara asked from where she stood in front of the door.
“We matched them to the ones on file from his military service.”
Tara turned, her expression blank. “If his motivations are related to me, why do you think he killed this woman? I didn’t really know her.”
Kaci sat forward to put her plate on the table. “My guess, and it’s only a guess mind you, is that he tracked you the same way I did. Then he talked to the woman and became worried that she’d ID him.”
“So it was senseless.” Tara shook her head. “Not that any killing makes sense, but this poor woman—all the women he’s killed—did nothing wrong.”
Shane looked at her with the same soothing expression he offered victims and hostages. “Remember we’re dealing with a psychopath, here. The murder may not make any sense to us, but it made perfect sense to Keeler.”
“A psychopath, really?” Tara shook her head. “I knew killing like this wasn’t normal behavior, but ‘psychopath’ sounds so evil.”
“He is evil!” The words flew out before Cal could temper them or his frustration with Keeler.
Tara stared down at her fisted hands, but Cal couldn’t tell if she was pondering the woman’s death or his heavy-handedness.
“I’m sorry for blowing up like that,” he said. “But Keeler isn’t the boy you grew up with. He’s a cold-blooded killer now.”
“I know.” Her words whispered out, and Cal had to strain to hear her. “But that doesn’t mean I can accept it.”
Shane eyed Cal. “I don’t agree with Cal’s outburst, but he’s right. Even if it hurts, you have to realize that the boy you grew up with is long gone.”
She nodded and smiled at Shane, a soft smile filled with her thanks for his consideration.
Jealousy, an emotion Cal had rarely felt in his life, settled over him. He would much rather receive her sweet smile than the frustrated look she fired his way most of the time. Not that it was her fault. He was to blame. He couldn’t seem to do the right thing around her and, of course, there would be no thanks for his constant overbearing tactics.
He had to keep his frustrations in check in the future and remember she prized her independence. She didn’t want to be coddled. She wanted to take decisive action. To end this, find Keeler, and return to her normal life. Just as he wanted in his own life, and he respected that about her, liked it even, so why did he keep trying to go against it?
“Hey, Kaci,” Rick said, interrupting Cal’s thoughts. “Any proof that Keeler’s tried to catch a plane out of here?”
Kaci shook her head. “I have the TSA at PDX and surrounding airports on alert. In case they miss him, I also have analysts running footage for as many airports as they can manage.”
“What about rental car companies?” Brynn asked.
“Got that covered, too,” Kaci replied. “Though I doubt he’ll head out on a road trip back to D.C., he could drive to another Oregon airport or one in a nearby state. While my team is trying to track that down, we’re asking for rental records for Toyota Corollas, too, but as you can imagine, we’re getting a lot of blowback about warrants. Max is working that end of things, and hopefully we can get a judge to sign off with our limited information.”
“Fortunately, I didn’t get any grief from the Oregon State Police when I called on Hickson’s rifle,” Rick said. “In fact, we got lucky. They only maintain firearms sales records for a five-year period before destroying them, and the Browning was purchased a month short of five years ago.”
Cal’s hope for a solid lead perked up. “So we have the owner’s name?”
Rick nodded. “I talked to him this afternoon. He didn’t know the rifle was missing. He has a gun cabinet in his garage, and when I called, he discovered the lock was broken. I passed this off to local agents to make a visual confirmation and to keep digging into this guy, but I doubt we’ll find a connection to Keeler.”
“What about the man who reported seeing Keeler at the cabin?” Cal asked. “Anything new on that?”
Rick shook his head. “I personally interviewed him, and Kaci’s team ran a background check. He has no record or affiliation with radical groups. Sheriff Gorton even vouched for the guy. Still, we’ll leave it in the hands of local agents, too, in case we missed anything.”
Cal looked at Shane. “You’ve been working on Hickson’s background. Anything there?”
Shane’s usual good humor vanished. “He’s a Vietnam vet. He holds a number of marksman awards and was decorated for his service, but he came back with issues, as many vets do.”
A murmur of understanding traveled through the team, who’d all served in the military, and Cal added his, too.
“He had a drinking problem that he managed to control until his wife died about five years ago, and he’s been homeless since then. He’s like the guy who reported Keeler, in that he has no affiliations with ISIS, which for a vet isn’t surprising.”
Another buzz of agreement ran through the group. Sure, at first Cal had been angry with Hickson. After all, he’d committed a crime and he had to pay, but if the woman hadn’t enticed a hungry, down-on-his-luck guy with a wad of cash, Hickson would be sitting on the curb instead of heading to prison.
“I hate that a fellow vet will be going away because of Keeler,” Shane said, echoing Cal’s thoughts. “That’s assuming Hickson is on the up and up.”
; Tara returned to the corner of the sofa. “Oren is destroying lives left and right.”
“I’m leaning toward believing Hickson,” Kaci said.
“Why’s that?” Cal asked.
“None of his shots came close to hitting us. Or am I the only one who noticed that?” She looked around the group. “It was like he possessed strong enough skills to miss, if that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense. I don’t know why I didn’t catch that,” Rick said. “At some point, odds would say with the number of shots he’d fired off that he’d get lucky and hit one of us. It’s only when you master a weapon that you can miss such a close target on every shot.”
Cal believed they were right, but the only proof was Hickson’s statement, so there was very little they could do to help the guy out. “If it turns out he’s telling the truth, I’ll do everything I can to get his prison time reduced.”
Tara swiveled to look at him and offered a flicker of a smile. Why, he had no idea.
“Since we all think Hickson told us the truth,” Shane said, “we need to talk about the implication of Keeler working with a Muslim woman while also killing women of the same faith.”
“I didn’t think Muslim women were allowed to participate in such things,” Tara said. “Certainly not with ISIS, right?”
“That’s rapidly changing with women from Western countries,” Cal said. “In Europe, North America, and Australia, about ten percent of ISIS’s foreign recruits are women. The majority of them are between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five.”
“Jihadists actually celebrate the Muslim woman warrior,” Shane said. “These are not the women you see covered in a burka trailing behind a man, but educated women who reject their Western freedoms to join in the fight. They’re drawn by many of the same reasons as men.”
“And they’re effective for the cause,” Brynn added. “Because of the stereotypes of Muslim women, they’re often overlooked in investigations. Good for ISIS. Bad for us.”
“But the women he killed have no ties to ISIS, right?” Tara asked.
“Right,” Shane said. “And his willingness to work with Muslim women says his killing spree isn’t about Muslim women in general.”
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