She could almost feel the ground rumbling under her chair, and she jumped. Cal took her hand, and she clasped his with an iron grip that likely had him wincing, but she didn’t look to see.
All sounds ceased until the blast from a single gunshot broke the quiet. The sharp report and rumbling explosion fired off her senses, bringing back the fear as she ran from Oren, and the pain of a bullet piercing her stomach.
She gasped. Cal’s other hand came over hers, giving her the strength to keep her eyes closed and continue to listen.
She remembered falling at a snail’s pace, as if time had slowed. Hitting the ground and the earthy scent of the forest floor rising up to meet her. Fear raced over her that Oren would come closer and finish her off, and she’d tried to lift her phone in her hand to call for help, but couldn’t raise her arm. She’d thought she would die all alone in the woods with no one to comfort her, to find her, and she wouldn’t have the chance to say good-bye to June and her friends.
She’d been alone. All alone.
“No!” Her voice cried out on the recording, full of the panic now threatening to take her down.
She whipped her eyes open and jerked her hand free to wrap her arms around her stomach. Cal reached for the mute button on his computer, but the sound of footsteps pounding over the ground came through the speakers.
“Let it play,” she said, and soon heard Cal radio for help. Then a much quieter sound of him telling her that he was there for her, and he would get her through this.
The anguish washed away, and her heart soared at his kindness, his help. Tears that she’d held back the last few days flowed down her cheeks, and she didn’t try to stop them. “I felt so alone, but you came. Like you promised.”
He scooted his chair closer and with a gentle thumb brushed away her tears. “I know this has been hard on you, but I promise to be here for you every step of the way until this is resolved.”
She threw caution to the wind and stood to tug him to his feet. She wrapped her arms around the neck of this strapping man who’d flown in on a helicopter to save her life. He drew her close and held her tightly with one arm while cradling the back of her head with the other.
She rested her cheek on his broad chest and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his solid strength. The inky night came back again. She was lying on the ground with Cal standing above her in his tactical gear looking fierce and intimidating while at the same time anger mixed with sorrow in his gaze.
But now?
She leaned back and peered up at him. His warmth, compassion, and—dare she think—caring displayed in his expression filled her to a depth that erased all of her worries and fears of not ever getting over the shooting and being whole again. Sure, she thought the optimism was for this moment only, but she’d take the little bit that God offered right now.
Cal gently touched her cheek as if he thought she was fragile and needed to be treated with kid gloves. She smiled up at him, and he returned it with a shy, almost uneasy one of his own.
Her heart started thumping wildly. She’d really connected with him on a level far beyond anything she’d felt for a man, even Nolan, and they’d been engaged to marry.
The man holding her was no longer the fierce, powerful warrior who’d flown in on his chopper, who’d covered her body with his. He was the man to whom she owed her life, and the man who, despite his controlling tendencies, had wormed his way into her heart, and she knew clinging to him for the moment was the right thing to do.
Problem was, she didn’t know if the stress of the situation was influencing her feelings or if she really did care about him. Sure, he was attracted to her, too. But his actions now could just be him doing his job. After all, he’d said he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she’d best remember that if she didn’t want to get hurt.
Chapter 18
Cal stood across the table from Tara and opened the five cardboard boxes in front of him. Something had shifted between him and Tara a moment ago, and his mind had shifted along with it, moving to all the possibilities a relationship might bring. A wife, family, companionship. The easing of the ache in his gut that a simple smile from Tara brought.
If Shane hadn’t delivered the evidence boxes and broken in on them, Cal didn’t know what he might have done other than hold Tara tighter and kiss her until they were both breathless. He needed to figure out why she succeeded where no other woman had, unsettling him and making him forget his job, but to help keep his focus on the job, he’d asked Shane to sit in with them as she reviewed the evidence.
“That’s a lot of boxes.” Tara laughed nervously.
“Actually, there are more, but these boxes hold items we believe have more meaning in the investigation.” Cal prepared to show them to her by sorting through each carton and choosing the evidence in the order he would display it.
“I’m glad you’re looking at this stuff,” Shane said from where he sat across from Tara. “I suspect Keeler’s possessions will shed additional light on his personality.”
Cal thought the same thing, as the evidence didn’t have a forensic relationship to the bombs but was so odd it had stood out in their search of Keeler’s place.
Cal sat next to Shane and looked across at Tara. “Ready?”
She nodded, but he’d have to be blind not to see her agitation. He ignored his protective urge that had him wanting to slam the lids back on the boxes and lifted out a plastic evidence bag containing a woman’s scarf. He set it on the table in front of her.
She took a quick look and her head snapped up. “Oren had this?”
Cal nodded. “You obviously recognize it.”
“It’s mine. It went missing in eighth grade.”
Cal’s concern for her well-being rose, but he forced himself to keep his tone neutral so he didn’t color her thoughts. “Tell me about it.”
She slid a finger under one of her rubber bands and twirled, tightening the band. “My parents went to France for their anniversary. They were killed in a car accident right after they came home.” She let the band release, and when it connected, she winced but continued her story. “My mother brought this scarf home, but one day it mysteriously disappeared from my things.”
“Didn’t you wonder what had happened to it?” Shane asked.
“Of course. I was heartbroken when I couldn’t find the small box I stored it in. I liked to take it out and dream of what it would have been like if they’d lived and they’d taken me to visit Paris, too.” She worked the rubber band again.
Cal suddenly wished he could make her dreams come true and board a plane with her to Paris. Spend days, maybe weeks, exploring the city with her by his side.
“I went to live with June at that time,” she continued. “And we decided that somehow the box had gotten mixed in with packing materials and tossed in the garbage. We burned all of our trash in a barrel, so there was no hope of retrieving it.”
She picked up the bag, running her finger over the outside and trailing it around one of the purple paisleys. “I was so upset. Oren comforted me. Said it was meant to be. God’s way and all.”
Shane shook his head. “But he took it.”
“Or found one like it, I suppose.”
Cal wanted to fire off a scathing comment about Keeler, but that wouldn’t help Tara, so he gentled his tone. “I think the odds are very much against him locating an identical scarf purchased in Paris.”
“You’re right, I suppose.”
Her pitiful tone ripped into Cal’s gut, and his anger rose at Keeler, if that was even possible. The guy was a fool. He was friends with an amazing woman like Tara, and then he threw it all away to take on a crazy mixed-up life that ended in terrorism.
Cal swallowed down his anger before continuing. “How old were you at the time?”
“Thirteen. Before my parents left for Paris, my mom and I went shopping to find the perfect dress for my eighth grade graduation.” Her face lit with a bright smile, chasing away her sadness for t
he moment. “My mom picked out the scarf to match the dress. After she died, I wanted to wear them as a way to have her with me at the graduation.”
“And Keeler ruined that,” Shane stated.
“Yes, but I wore the dress, and she was still there. He didn’t take that away.”
“Good for you,” Shane said.
She rested her hands on the table and stared at them. “Where did you find the scarf?”
“Keeler kept it in a desk drawer and wrapped it around a number of items.” Cal reached into another box and drew out a small bag. “This is one of them.”
She took it from him. “My decoder ring from a box of Trix. I was like six or seven when it went missing.”
“Another item that mysteriously disappeared?” Shane asked.
She nodded.
Cal lifted out a pen with a fuzzy-headed troll doll on the end. “Yours too?”
She picked up the bag and shook her head in disbelief. “I was ten or so the last time I saw it.”
Next, he removed a small book called Kristy’s Great Idea.
“Oh my gosh, my first Baby-Sitters Club book.” She ran her fingers over the toy block letters above the picture on the cover. “My mom was so mad at me for losing this book. We borrowed the set from a cousin who wanted it back when I was finished reading it.”
Shane sat forward, steepled his hands and rested his chin on them, his gaze pensive. Cal could almost see the wheels and gears churning in his teammate’s head. Before this review was over, Shane would have added to Keeler’s profile.
Cal turned his thoughts back to Tara. “How old were you when he stole the book?”
“Nine or so.” She came to her feet and grabbed the edge of the last box. “Is that all that you have in there?”
Before Cal could reply, she snatched up a heart necklace in another bag. “Why would he take this? He gave it to me.”
Cal turned to his associate. “Want to answer that one, Shane?”
Shane nodded. “He’s insecure and doesn’t think he deserves your friendship, so he’s proving you really do like him by looking at items that remind him of the times you shared.”
“But why keep them now? I mean after our friendship ended a long time ago, why would he want them?”
“Because even if you no longer like him, after what you’ve told us, we can assume he’s still in love with you and these things remind him of a happier time in life. A time when he thought you might become his.” Shane shook his head. “Or, as it often is with a twisted mind like Keeler’s, it could be the opposite. These things remind him of how you hurt him, and he used them to fuel his rage to get even with you.”
She shuddered. “That’s creepy.”
And sick. Cal didn’t bother putting voice to his thoughts, as they would only add to Tara’s unease.
“These items don’t help move the investigation forward, and this was a waste of time,” she said.
Shane shook his head. “Anytime we gain insight into a sick mind like Keeler’s, we’re one step closer to understanding him and catching him.”
A knock sounded on the door, startling them all.
“I’ll get it,” Shane said.
Cal kept his focus on Tara to judge her mood. Her gaze tracked Shane to the door, and she’d twisted a rubber band around her finger so tightly her finger turned purple. As Shane talked to their visitor, Cal pointed at her finger but didn’t say a word.
She looked down. “Oh…right…oh.”
She released the band so by the time Shane returned carrying an overnight package, her finger had returned to a normal color.
“From the lab in Quantico.” He set the box in front of Cal. “It’s the fragments from the Dallas bomb.”
“That was quick,” Tara said.
“Brynn made sure the evidence took top priority.” Cal rested a hand on the box. “I’ll need to look at this before we head over to the pump house.”
Tara stared at the box. “I’m confused. If the lab has already processed the fragments, why do you need to review them, too?”
“I can answer that one.” Shane stepped closer. “The forensic staff at the lab is the best of the best, but we like to think we’re just a little bit better.”
“Modest, too.” Tara smiled, and Cal appreciated the change in her mood.
“No one would ever accuse us of that.” Cal returned the smile, and she blessed him with a full-fledged grin, pushing away some of the unease in the room.
He grabbed a pair of scissors from the table to slice open the box. “This could take some time. If you want, I can have Shane find a quiet spot for you to hang out until I’m ready to go.”
She shook her head hard. “I’d rather stay here with you.”
Shane arched a brow, his expression filled with questions. Cal suspected his teammate’s study of human behavior had him trying to figure out why she chose to remain in this room instead of finding solitude. Where some of the others on the team might have blurted out a question, Shane was the consummate professional and didn’t ask.
“Call me if you change your mind.” He offered a comforting smile and left the room.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Cal said to Tara before taking the box to a workbench in the corner.
He turned on the lighted magnifying glass mounted on the corner of the workbench for such an occasion. He spread out fresh paper across the table and removed evidence bags to line them up in size order.
“Wow,” Tara said, coming up behind him. “How many bags are there?”
Cal pulled out the inventory list. “Sixty-eight.”
“And that’s only pieces of the bomb, nothing more?”
He nodded.
“How do you even choose where to start?”
“I begin with the largest fragment that might yield the best evidence and work my way to the smallest.”
“Makes sense, I guess.”
“It’s a lot like a puzzle.” He selected the bag holding the largest item and held it under the magnifying glass. He turned the bag in various directions, looking at the metallic shard with fragments of wire sticking out.
Tara moved closer. “Can you even identify what you’re looking at?”
“Actually, this is one of the best examples of an action circuit that we’ve recovered from any of Keeler’s bombs.” He smoothed out the bag and lifted it closer to the magnifying glass. “Odd.”
“What?” she asked.
“It looks like a counterfeit switch.”
“You can tell that just by looking at it?”
“I’ve examined countless switches over the years, and I recognize this one, but the markings are wrong.”
“And that’s odd why?”
He set the switch on the paper and leaned back to look at Tara. “Bombs can be unpredictable, so getting one to detonate, especially one as complicated at the ones Keeler builds, is harder than it seems. If I was building a bomb, I’d use the best-quality materials possible to be certain my device would work. So why spend so much on the other materials but buy a counterfeit switch? Just doesn’t make sense.”
“What if Oren didn’t know it was counterfeit?”
“That’s likely the best explanation,” Cal said, his mind racing over what that could mean if anything. “Which is why counterfeiting is so successful.”
“Where would he even buy something like this?”
Cal tapped the bag. “This switch is used for remote-controlled toys. He could have taken it from a toy he already owned, but most likely, with his plans of producing so many bombs, he purchased a number of these switches online.”
Tara’s forehead furrowed. “Wouldn’t the package have been delivered to the house and you could have tracked it?”
“We checked all package deliveries at the rental house and his family’s farm. He’s smart enough to have set up an alternative mailing address such as a PO Box to keep from arousing suspicion.”
“Again, couldn’t you check with local post offices?�
�
“We did—not only near your aunt’s place but near Keeler’s employer. We also checked stores with rental boxes, but he didn’t use his official ID to rent a box in any of these locations.”
Tara frowned. “What about that woman Kaci showed the picture of? Could she be buying the supplies and giving them to him?”
He nodded. “As could other ISIS supporters.”
Tara bit down on her lower lip and shook her head. “I had no idea Oren could be this devious. His thought patterns used to be so much simpler.”
Cal met her gaze and held it. “The kind of terrorism he’s engaging in is simple. Kill people. Do so publicly, with much media attention, and then don’t get caught so you can do it all over again.”
Chapter 19
Spotsylvania County, Virginia
2:00 p.m.
Despite precautions, Cal was on high alert for the drive to June’s place. After he’d started analysts tracking down counterfeit RC parts, he’d sent Shane and Kaci along with four other agents to scope out the farm and to sit sentry along their travel route, but he wouldn’t let down his guard until he had Tara back at the safe house.
Fortunately, she seemed more relaxed than she’d been on the drive to headquarters. She was so eager to see her aunt that her knee kept bouncing like a kid on Christmas morning. He even caught a broad smile on her face when they passed familiar countryside.
“That was my parents’ farm.” She pointed out the window. “I wish we could have kept it in the family, but when my uncle Earl passed away, June had her hands full and couldn’t continue to run both properties.” She sat back with a wistful sigh and looked at him. “You know, you’ve never mentioned your parents.”
Not willingly. “I didn’t, did I?”
“C’mon, you know all about me, and I know very little about you.”
“As it should be in our business relationship.”
Tara jerked back as if he’d slapped her.
Great. Now he’d hurt her feelings, and she didn’t deserve it. They’d strayed from the professional long ago, and he could easily tell her about his family. He just didn’t want to talk about his past where his parents bickered all the time, ignoring him in the process, and the moment he could he’d left home for the navy. Why hash over that old news or even discuss his empty personal life, which was the direction he was certain this conversation would go?
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