“What does that mean?” Tara asked.
“These are Keeler’s journals,” Cal replied.
Tara frowned, her response mimicking Cal’s thoughts. These journals were sure to hold secrets and horrors and neither of them would want to read the thoughts of a psychopath.
Chapter 22
Ode to Tara. The title of Keeler’s journal rolled around in Tara’s mind, and she tried to hide any outward signs of her emotional turmoil. Soon Cal would read Oren’s personal thoughts about her. Would Oren rant and rail against her rejection? Maybe express in words the crazy infatuation that caused him to steal her prized possessions.
She sighed, drawing Cal’s attention. He appeared to want to give her a hug. Feeling so emotionally raw and vulnerable, she’d be glad for a hug, but that was precisely the reason she scooted out of reach and sought her rubber bands. She expected him to try to stop her, but he didn’t, and she snapped hard.
Despite his assurance that she had no reason to feel guilty, it continued to bother her, and she knew that until she fully dealt with her issues of ignoring God in her life, her nightmares would continue. She was no more free to hug Cal and lean on him now than she’d been since he’d arrived at the tower to bring her back here.
He tapped the journals sitting on the hay next to him. “Any idea why Keeler would leave these things here and risk them being found by the new owners?”
“None.” Tara bent closer to the pictures, and raised holes near the edge caught her attention. “These have pin-sized holes. Like they were posted somewhere.”
“The house at your aunt’s place, maybe? He could have thought someone might see them there, so he took them down but didn’t want to get rid of them.”
“Or he could have posted them at his family’s house but removed them when he lost the farm. But then it doesn’t make sense that he left them here.”
“If I’ve learned anything in chasing down criminals, it’s that the things they do often don’t make sense even when they explain their reasoning. That’s doubly true of someone as disturbed at Keeler.” He paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “You have to remember he’s obsessed with ISIS and killing. He’s living in a make-believe world, and his actions don’t have to make sense.”
“I suppose so.” She tried to give his thought some consideration, but her mind was a jumbled mess. One thing, however, stood out bright and clear. “Killing seven women makes no sense in any world.”
“You have a point.” He came to his feet and held out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s stop at the hired hand’s house at your aunt’s place to see if there are matching holes in the walls for these pictures.”
“And if we find them? How will that help?”
“We won’t know the answer to that until we look.” He tugged her to her feet and bent to put the items back in the envelope and pick up the journals. “Ready?”
She nodded, and he led the way to his car, where he put the envelope and journals in a large evidence bag and settled it in the backseat.
He pressed his finger against his chest, where the mic from his communication device rested. “We’re heading over to June’s farm. Rick, take the lead. Shane, the rear.”
It took only a few minutes to exit Oren’s former property and turn down June’s drive. Cal sent Agent Ingles inside to get the key for the hired hand’s house, and then continued down the drive to the tiny single-story house.
Cal eyed her. “We didn’t have a chance to check out this location today, so we’ll go straight inside.”
She nodded and got out. He escorted her to the front door, his gaze watchful and his head swiveling as he scoped out the area. He broke a seal on the door and unlocked it.
She stepped inside the familiar space, but a coldness seeped into her body rather than the warmth she’d known when she’d visited June’s longtime hired hand who’d managed the farm for so many years after Earl died. The door led straight into a spacious kitchen with ancient cupboards and an old turquoise refrigerator from the fifties. A bedroom was located on the right and a narrow doorway straight ahead led to the living room.
Cal gestured at the bedroom. “Keeler had this room set up as an office. Let’s start there.”
She entered the space painted a blindingly neon blue color.
Cal stepped to an open wall and ran his still-gloved fingers over it. “Lots of holes here.”
She joined him and shined her phone’s flashlight over the area. “The size is consistent with the holes in the pictures.” She continued down the wall. “Looks like he had bigger pictures here, too.”
“It could have been papers or other items.”
She looked up at him. “Items like what?”
“Souvenirs from the women.”
“That’s just sick.”
“Keeler is sick, Tara.”
“I know…I…even after everything I’ve seen and heard, I can’t seem to think of him that way.”
Cal gave her an incredulous look.
“You don’t get it. I know.” She sighed. “Did you have a close friend growing up?”
“I was kind of a loner.”
“Then imagine learning one of your Knight or SEAL teammates was behind this and doing sick, depraved things.”
“First, none of them would.”
“But see, that’s how I used to feel about Oren. You’ve always known him as a killer. I’ve known him as a friend and then a lost soul when he pulled away. Even as sick and twisted as he is, it’s not as easy as you might think to give that up.”
“Makes sense, I suppose.”
“But you can’t see it.”
“You’ve got a more innocent outlook on life than I do.” He gave her a sweet smile. “It’s one of the many things I like about you. I honestly wish I didn’t have to be the one to force you to accept reality.”
“You like many things about me, huh?” The question came out before she thought it through.
“You’re an incredible woman, Tara. Strong. Courageous. Tough yet soft and vulnerable. I like it all.” He peered into her eyes, and the intensity of his passion nearly had her stepping over to him and flinging her arms around his neck.
“We should finish up here,” she said instead, and moved on to another wall where one of Oren’s rudimentary paintings of a cow hung slightly askew.
She remembered when he’d created the garishly colored picture in a junior high art class. He thought it was so realistic, but it wasn’t in perspective and the barn next to the cow was about the same size.
Still, he loved to draw, and she’d encouraged him. Wait, draw. Her mind flashed back to the pump house. To the table. Under the binder. Large papers folded. Drawings of devices. The necklace bomb.
“There were more sketches in the pump house,” she blurted out. “Diagrams of the bombs and parts.”
“What brought that back?”
She pointed at the picture with Oren’s signature on the bottom. “Oren loved to draw as a kid. The picture triggered a memory.”
Cal’s eyes gleamed. “And are you any good at drawing? Can you re-create what you saw?”
“Not really, but I can give you a rough sketch that should do the trick. I know it had words on it. Those I don’t remember, but maybe what I do remember will help.”
“I’m sure it will.”
They walked the rest of the house, not discovering any additional leads, and soon stepped back into the warm sunshine. Cal fixed a new seal on the door and escorted her back up the drive, where he allowed her to run inside and return the key while he waited on the porch.
Tara handed the key to June.
“Did you learn anything?” she asked.
Cal had warned her not to share any information without his permission, and she hadn’t thought to ask him about today. “Nothing I can tell you about.”
“Then I won’t ask again.” June frowned. “I hate that all of this is happening, but at least I’ve gotten to see you two days in a row.”
She circled her arms around Tara and drew her close. Her aunt smelled of peanut butter and chocolate, as did the house. When June released her, she picked up a large tin that often held June’s famous cookies.
“Monster cookies for Cal,” she said.
“Cal?” Tara cried out. “But you know I love them, too, and I haven’t had any in months.”
“I do, but I can spoil you anytime, and unless you bring Cal back here when all of this is over, this might be my last time to spoil him.”
Tara appraised her aunt. “I know you’re fishing for something, but I’m not touching that comment.”
Tara kissed June’s cheek, took the tin, and backed toward the door.
“Honey, I saw the way you two look at each other, and my old heart would be real happy to know you might be interested in him.”
“I can’t hear you,” Tara joked.
“He’s a fine man. Handsome, too.”
“Bye, Aunt June. I love you.” She quickly stepped out the door.
Cal spun, and she handed him the tin. “June’s famous monster cookies. Apparently you made quite an impression on her. She doesn’t make them for everyone.”
She never baked them for Nolan. The thought came unbidden, but she ignored it and slid into the car.
Cal opened the tin and offered her a cookie. She gladly picked one up. The size of a saucer, the cookie was made of oatmeal, peanut butter, chocolate chips, and peanuts. She chomped a gooey bite, but Cal closed the tin without taking one.
She swallowed her bite. “You don’t like cookies?”
“No, I like them fine, but my clothes, probably my hair—shoot, all of me smells like the barn, and I can’t eat.”
“Oh.” She was surprised that he was so sensitive to smells, though after seeing his reaction in the barn she shouldn’t be, she supposed. “I’m used to the odor, but I should have thought about that and warned you. It lingers.”
“We’ll have to change clothes before we go back to the office or the team is bound to make jokes for days.” He grinned.
She loved his playful look, so in opposition to the large-and-in-charge guy sitting next to her. She didn’t think, but took his hand. “I’m glad you were with me when I found the journals. No one else would have handled it so sensitively.”
“Sensitive!” He gaped at her. “Me? Now don’t go telling the team that, okay?”
“Mum’s the word.” She smiled back at him.
Their eyes connected, and she forgot all about the cookie in her hand and got lost in the deep brown color.
He shifted to face her more fully. “What are we going to do about this?”
“About what?” she asked, though she knew full well he meant what was happening between them.
“This…us.” He let go of her hand and gestured between them. “You may not want to hear this, but I can honestly say I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Me either.” She couldn’t believe she admitted it.
His gaze darkened, deepened, and he reached up to cup the side of her face, his fingers lingering for a moment before he slid them into her hair, drawing her closer to him. He was going to kiss her, and with her gaze locked on the eagerness in his eyes, she could think of no reason why he shouldn’t. Not even his team standing in the driveway. If he didn’t care about them witnessing the kiss, neither did she.
He leaned closer, his lips inches from hers, his breath fanning softly over her skin.
His cell phone rang in the tone all his team members used to communicate with each other. A shutter dropped over his eyes, and he sat back to grab his phone. “I have to take this.”
“Of course.” She could honestly say she was disappointed in the interruption, very disappointed, and yet relieved, too.
“What’s up, Max?” Cal stared ahead.
She could hear Max’s fast-talking voice echo from Cal’s phone, but she couldn’t make out the words. She nibbled on the cookie and watched a rush of emotions race across the wide planes of Cal’s face as he listened. He ground his teeth, and his fingers curled into a fist on his knee.
She lost interest in her cookie and waited for him to share additional bad news.
“We’ll be right there.” He ended the call and tossed his phone onto the dash so hard he’d likely broken the screen. He slammed his fist into the dash, leaving a dent and breaking open the skin on the knuckles he’d injured in the explosion.
“What is it?” Afraid to hear the answer, she held her breath.
“Another bomb.” He cranked the engine and revved the motor.
“But it’s not the first of the month.”
“I’ve been thinking Keeler would take out his frustration over not getting to you by reducing the time between bombs. He’s hurting, and he needs his fix to relieve his pain. Not uncommon for a serial killer.”
“But you said last night that we had until the first of the month.”
“Yeah, for the women on his list.”
“So this wasn’t someone on the list?” Nausea threatened her stomach. She’d been so naïve to think they had weeks to find him before he killed again. “Where did the bomb explode?”
“In Oregon. Your fire tower. The new fire lookout is dead.”
Tara’s heart plummeted and all the warm feelings from June, from the cookie, from Cal’s almost-kiss evaporated, a hollow ache replacing them. The poor, poor young woman who’d filled in was dead. Dead! At Oren’s hands.
Tara circled her stomach with her arms as if she could protect herself from further anguish, but the pain rolled through like a bowling ball racing down a lane, bent on destruction.
Cal shoved open his door, jumped from the car, and strode over to Shane. Tara watched, not only because she was interested, but because it kept her mind occupied. Cal spoke, his shoulders rigid, and Shane’s mouth fell open. Cal said a few more words, then pivoted and marched back to the car while Shane jogged up the drive to Rick.
Cal settled beside her and clasped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I should have thought to ask for a man to replace you at the tower.”
“You couldn’t know Oren would do this.”
“No! Don’t make excuses for me. I failed. It’s my job to know things like that.” He revved the engine and pointed the car up the drive, gravel spitting under their tires.
When he stopped at the road, she laid a hand on his arm. “Now would be a good time to remember what you keep telling me. You didn’t set this bomb. Oren did, and you can’t take responsibility for it.”
“Yeah.” He cranked the wheel, her hand falling off before he gunned the car onto the road. “It’s a good idea in theory, but after all I’ve seen…all I’ve done…it doesn’t work for me.”
“Maybe talking to me about it would help.”
He shook his head. “Been there, done that.”
“But not with me.”
He shot her a quick look and then stared ahead at the road. She waited for him to speak. One minute. Two. Three minutes passed in silence.
He’d opened up with her a few times, but he had always held something back, giving her insight into his inner being only in dribs and drabs. But now? Now he’d closed down tight and had no intention of volunteering any information and letting her into his life.
Good. Just what she needed to happen.
If she was honest about her feelings, she’d been subconsciously thinking about a possible relationship with him once Oren was behind bars. Thankfully, Cal’s stubbornness, that part of him that he refused to share because he needed to be in control all the time, that part of him put an end to any hope of a relationship before she foolishly fell for him.
* * *
Dressed from her shower, Tara pulled back her hair into a ponytail and checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. Fortunately, Cal had arranged for the team to come to the safe house again instead of her and Cal having to go back into the city. If another life hadn’t been lost, if Cal hadn’t refused to open up to her, Tara
would be grinning over his need to shower off the barn odor.
She stepped into the hallway, and at hearing Cal’s raised voice, she stopped to listen before walking into what sounded like a heated conversation.
“You don’t know that, Max,” Cal stated. “The bomb could be a trap. Keeler has to know we’ll hop a plane to Oregon and take Tara with us or leave her here unprotected. Either way, he could have a plan in place to harm her, and we can’t ensure her safety.” He paused for a moment. “And before you suggest it, I won’t take her to Oregon. There’s no way she needs to see the carnage at the fire tower.”
“We’ll compromise and split up the team,” Max said.
“What?” Rick’s voice boomed down the hallway. “We’ve never done that on a callout.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Max answered. “I’ll go to Oregon with Cal and Brynn. The rest of you will remain here to continue working the leads.”
“I’d rather not go,” Cal said.
“Not negotiable,” Max replied. “We need our explosives expert on site.”
Cal didn’t respond, and Tara wished he’d fought harder to stay with her, but she fully understood that his skills were needed at the bomb scene.
“Kaci,” Max continued. “I want you to sit on your team until they find actionable information about the woman whose home Tara mapped yesterday. And you don’t look up from your computer until you’ve got something on the e-mail addresses Cal found.”
“Roger that,” Kaci said.
“Shane, since Brynn has confirmed Tannerite fueled the truck explosion, you need to step up your game to find Keeler’s source so when we hit Oregon soil we can run it to ground. And Rick, get back on the stakeout of Sarra Yasin, and for Pete’s sake, get me something we can use.”
“Can’t do that unless she shows up at her house,” Rick said. “I checked with our guy on her detail, and she’s still AWOL.”
Tara assumed Sarra Yasin was the woman connected with ISIS who was caught on film near the Dallas bomb site. If what Rick said was true, she hadn’t come home since the team had staked her place out.
“Then spend the time as you wait going back through the information we’ve gathered on Yasin. We have to figure out why Keeler would work with a Muslim woman at the same time as killing others.”
Fatal Mistake--A Novel Page 20