He landed on his belly, and his hands automatically went up over his head. He lay stunned for a moment, his ears ringing as debris rained down over him. This wasn’t the first explosion he’d survived, and it wasn’t even the closest call, but he couldn’t help but think how horrible it would have been if the device had been detonated with an unsuspecting person close by.
He lifted his head and saw Max racing in his direction.
Cal swayed to his feet. “Can’t hear you, Max. Just listen. The bomb was remotely detonated and the person who set it off has to be close by. Watching.”
Max spun and said something, but Cal couldn’t make it out. All he knew was they were all sitting ducks, and they needed to take cover.
* * *
Washington, D.C.
Tara pushed back from the dining room table and dropped her pencil. She wasn’t a good artist, and the sketches she’d created were rudimentary at best, but she hoped they would help. Planning to show them to Shane, who was working at a desk in the den, she got up and grabbed the pad. She found him hanging up his phone, his usual easygoing expression dark and concerned.
Cal. Had something happened to Cal?
She forced a calm she didn’t feel into her voice. “Is there a problem?”
“We have a few new developments.”
She’d seen nothing but straightforward answers from him, and his Cal-like evasive response raised her concern higher. “Can you share them with me?”
He gestured at a club chair by the desk. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“That bad, huh?” she joked, but when the easygoing guy didn’t even crack a smile, she braced herself to hear very bad news.
She dropped into the chair. “Did Oren hurt someone else?”
“We’re uncertain who placed the device, but a secondary bomb was left at the fire tower in Oregon and was just detonated.”
Cal. He’s hurt. Her heart refused to beat. “Cal…the team…are they…?”
“They’re fine. Mostly anyway. Cal’s a bit banged up. He was checking the area under the tower for secondary devices when he spotted the bomb and took off running. He was hit with falling debris, and his ears are ringing, but otherwise he’s okay.”
She noticed she had a death grip on the chair. She released it and twisted her hands together in her lap, and her heart seemed to restart. Memories of the truck exploding took over her mind. The ground rumbling under her body. The fireball. Metal and wood shooting into the air. The ditch had protected her, but there wasn’t a ditch near the fire tower. A vision of Cal, lying on the ground and debris raining down on him, left her unable to speak.
“If Oren is here in D.C.,” she managed to get out past the dryness in her throat.
“He could have placed the device before he left and someone else set it off,” Shane said.
“Not a timer?”
“No. It was remotely detonated.”
“Then that person was watching. Waiting.”
He nodded solemnly.
“For Cal? Do you think they were waiting for Cal?” Her fingers automatically went for the rubber bands.
Shane eyed her fingers and shrugged. “I only have the barest of details at this point. Max said they were in pursuit of a suspect, but he wanted to give us a heads-up in case the news reported the bombing.”
She nodded, but the shock of nearly losing Cal before she really got to know him didn’t seem to abate. An ache as real as the bullet that had pierced her stomach took her breath. If this was the first bit of news…“Wait, you said there were two developments.”
Shane held up his hands. “Relax. This has nothing to do with anyone getting hurt.”
She nodded but couldn’t seem to shake the thought of Cal incapacitated. He’d been so strong, her rock, and if he could get hurt, what might happen to her, to others?
“You care about him, don’t you?” Shane asked. “Cal, that is.”
She didn’t know if she should admit it to anyone on the team, but Shane was such an easy person to talk to. She nodded, and it felt good to finally declare her feelings, even if it was by way of a nod of her head.
“He’s a great guy,” Shane said. “But you should know, he’s troubled about something and maybe—”
“It’s not a good time to try to start something with him? Yeah, I know.”
“So he confided in you?”
Had he? Was his often-pensive look caused by his guilt over not catching Oren or did it go deeper? “I’m not sure, as he doesn’t willingly share what’s bugging him—anything personal, really—but I can see it.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than bugging him.”
“Yeah, I got that, too.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable talking about her feelings with a virtual stranger. “The other thing you mentioned?”
“Right.” A knowing look crossed his face.
So what if she was clamming up like Cal? Her talk with Shane in no way resembled Cal’s behavior with her. She and Cal had something. She knew it, he knew it, and they both also knew his unwillingness to open up would prevent them from moving forward. Maybe that was his plan.
“So there’s this program call ShotSpotter,” Shane continued, and Tara turned her focus to listening to him. “Basically it’s a network of microphones installed in high crime areas so when guns are fired, the microphones record the audio. That in turn details the number of weapons and shots fired and provides real-time maps of the shooting location to first responders so when they arrive at the scene they’re prepared. Not only does it keep them safer, but it helps in aiding victims, searching for evidence, and even interviewing witnesses.”
“Interesting,” she said. “But how is this related to our investigation?”
“Earlier this evening ShotSpotter in a D.C. location picked up gunfire at a construction site. After the police investigated, they determined explosives had been stolen.”
“Explosives like the ones Oren uses.”
He nodded. “Max is contacting the local authorities to see if we can process the scene. If we’re lucky, we might find Keeler’s prints or DNA.”
Tara’s stomach cramped down hard. “But it doesn’t really matter if you get his prints, right? I mean, sure, you can prove he committed the burglary, but the real problem is that he’s in possession of more explosives. He’ll use them to build a bomb and another woman is going to die.”
* * *
Mount Hood National Forest, Oregon
The world continued to spin, sidelining Cal while the rest of the team and Deputy Andrews combed the woods for the person who detonated the bomb. With subpar hearing, Cal hadn’t even been able to discuss things with Max before he called the sheriff to request backup, and he and Brynn donned vests and took off together. If it were any situation other than one involving a bomber, Cal would enjoy seeing Max in action, as he rarely came out in the field and even more rarely participated in a physical pursuit.
Cal pushed off the bumper of the SUV and tested his balance. The area spun less than it had a few moments ago, but his head continued to ring with a high-pitched, piercing sound. He put a hand on the vehicle to end the residual spinning when he spotted movement in the bushes.
It could be a deer or elk, but he’d take no chances. He backed behind the SUV and hunkered down in a position where he could still keep his eye on the area. Leaves rustled and soon bushes parted a fraction. He couldn’t make out what or who was peering out at him, but he thought it was a deer assessing the risk of coming into the clearing.
The opening widened, and a pair of eyes, not animal but human, appeared in the space. He shifted to grab his sidearm but knew he couldn’t make a shot at this distance if needed, so he crept around the side of the vehicle and to the back door left open by Max. Cal quietly lifted the lid on a weapon case and found an assault rifle. He inserted an ammo magazine and moved back to the bumper.
A hand came out of the bushes, then another, this one holding a handgun. Not a man’s large hands, but a woman’s smaller
, slender pair. He didn’t let the surprise hinder his focus, but lifted his weapon and sighted in the area where the woman would emerge.
She didn’t disappoint, but soon slipped out low to the ground. Of Middle Eastern descent, she wore American clothing and hadn’t covered her face. He focused the scope, taking in her appearance. Could she be Meer or Yasin? Even though she wasn’t dressed in traditional garb as Yasin had worn when she’d accompanied Keeler to Dallas, Cal would go with Yasin as the most likely candidate. She’d likely dressed this way as she was hidden from view and needed to move quickly through heavily wooded areas. Or maybe she didn’t expect anyone to survive the bomb.
A sense of urgency almost had him moving, but he held his position and watched her scurry across the road, heading toward the front end of his vehicle.
Could she be planning to hop in and take off?
Assuming so, he scooted to the other side of the car and waited. She soon moved around the front, and he eased toward the bumper. A door latch clicked, and he figured she’d closed the back door. He heard the front door opening.
His team wouldn’t ever leave a car vulnerable, so the ignition didn’t hold keys. Which meant she would have to hot-wire the SUV. A skill she’d most likely learned from ISIS.
Cal gave her a few moments and then peeked into the rear window. She was bent over the wheel and wouldn’t notice his approach. He crept along the side of the vehicle and swung his rifle into the driver’s space, planting the barrel against her head.
“Hello, Sarra Yasin,” he said, and hoped he was right. “So nice of you to drop in.”
Chapter 24
Fairfax, Virginia
Saturday, August 6
9:15 p.m.
Tara strode across the safe house deck and back again, her footsteps following the same path they’d taken for the last few hours. She stopped to glance at the moon hanging in the distance. Crickets chirped from the lush garden beds surrounding the yard and the sweet smell of lavender from lovely purple blooms perfumed the air. All in all a peaceful and tranquil location. Except it wasn’t. Not since Cal called that afternoon telling her he was on his way back, and when she’d asked for details of his trip, he’d been cryptic and terse.
She’d come to know him well enough to recognize the strife in his voice and the underlying unease and anxiety. If big, brawny Cal Riggins with his SEAL savvy and confidence was anxious…she should be worried, too. Which she was. Even more so because he was late and she feared something terrible had delayed him.
Maybe it was related to Oren’s journals. He’d taken copies on the plane and could have found something horrific that he’d needed to track down. Or had another bomb been detonated since she’d learned of the last one? Did the team discover something in Oregon? Would he even tell her what was bothering him?
“Stop, just stop,” she muttered, and searched the garden for peace.
Father, please keep him safe, she prayed as she’d done since his departure yesterday. She and God weren’t right, but she couldn’t imagine Him not answering her prayers for other people.
She stood, gazing into the night sky, waiting for a measure of comfort, but uneasiness continued to plague her. Over Cal’s safety or her discord with God, she wasn’t sure. If only she could learn to trust again, but for some reason, she couldn’t make the transition to having confidence in God’s direction. Maybe it was her guilt over the latest lost lives. Maybe it was stubbornness or fear. No matter which, she couldn’t step over that line and trust again.
Could you if Cal’s life depended on you trusting God?
Could she?
She heard the front door open and close before Cal’s deep voice rumbled through the space announcing his arrival and saving her from having to answer her own question.
She sighed out her relief and caught sight of him as he strode through the house toward the large patio door. Raw cuts slashed across his face, his arms. He’d suffered, but God spared his life. For a moment, weariness mixed with frustration darkened his eyes, but then his gaze connected with hers and the uneasy emotions washed away. A relieved smile spread across his face, and the knot in her stomach loosened as a warm, languid feeling filled the aching pit.
He stepped outside. She followed him, then unsure how or what to do or say, she paused.
“Hi,” he said, sounding as self-conscious as a man on a first date.
“Hi,” she responded.
He eased closer, his arms lifting as if he wanted to hug her, then he dropped his arms and searched her gaze. His eyes darkened again, this time with a longing so clear it stilled her breath. He rested a hand on her arm, and her whole body went up in flames. She’d missed him. How she’d missed him. He hadn’t been gone for twenty-four hours, and she’d missed him.
In a few short days, he’d come to mean so much to her. The desire to know him better, to have him know her better, left her stunned, and she could only stand frozen in time and stare up at him.
How would she ever handle saying good-bye to this amazing man after they’d found Oren and Cal stepped out of her life?
His eyes narrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“You…the bomb,” was all she could say.
“I’m fine.”
He didn’t look fine, and she wanted to know more, but even if his whole body ached from the explosion, he was the kind of guy who wouldn’t talk about his injuries. Wouldn’t talk about much of anything.
He gestured at her sketch pad on the table. “Your drawings of the bombs?”
She picked up the pad and handed it to him.
He flipped through the book, his attention razor-sharp before he looked up. “Thank you.”
“I hope it will help,” she said, feeling like a stranger trying to make small talk when what she wanted was so much more.
“It should.” He placed the pad back on the table. “I’ll take a better look later and compare this to the device I reconstructed.”
She nodded her understanding. “Shane told me you caught the woman. Sarra.”
“Yes, but unfortunately she’s not talking.” Cal rubbed the back of his neck. “She’ll be escorted to D.C., and Max will question her again.”
“Did the rest of the team return with you?”
“Yes.” The warmth that had lightened his eyes disappeared. A darkness that made her head hurt replaced the light. “Why don’t we sit down?”
“That sounds like bad news.” She watched him carefully.
He didn’t respond, but pulled out a chair at the table for her. She sat, and he took a seat next to her, scooting close. Her awareness of him grew, but he didn’t seem to be affected by their proximity. Was she the only one whose true feelings had come to light during his absence, or was she assigning feelings to his expression that didn’t exist?
He rested his hands on the table. “Shane told you about the break-in where explosives were stolen.”
She nodded.
“Our Evidence Response Team lifted prints and confirmed they belonged to Keeler.”
Okay, good, talk about the investigation. She’d ignore his nearness, the scent of his minty aftershave, the emotions churning in her stomach, and concentrate on Oren. Ha! She wanted to think about Oren more than her feelings for Cal, which should tell her something.
She willed her mind to concentrate on the topic Cal raised. “Don’t you find it odd and sloppy for Oren to leave prints behind?”
“I do.”
“So do you think he wants us to know he’s stolen the explosives?”
“Could be.”
“Because he wants us to know he’s going to set off more necklace bombs.”
“Likely. Or it could be his way of thumbing his nose at us. Telling us that he’s so far superior to us that we can’t stop him.” Cal sat forward. “This is a common thing for serial killers.”
“You mean that they want to get caught?”
“No, that’s a myth that’s often said of such killers. But in fact, as they continue to get aw
ay with murder, they begin to feel invincible and get sloppy.”
“You think Oren might be getting sloppy.”
Cal nodded. “The blood in the tree was his, which suggests he was scrambling and could mean he’s not thinking ahead as much.”
“Could that be true of ditching the gun, too?”
“Could be, or he actually left the gun so we would find it and tell us that he was the one who tried to kill you, not Hickson,” Cal said, his voice strained. “Although we didn’t find Keeler’s DNA or prints on the gun, tests confirm slugs removed from the tower and the one found near your truck all came from that gun.”
“Oren really did set off the bomb, then, and Hickson was a pawn in Oren’s plans,” she said, not at all surprised by the news.
Cal nodded. “Also Kaci located video that shows Sarra Yasin renting a Toyota Corolla as Hickson claimed. Max stopped by the county jail to show Hickson her picture, and he identified her as the woman who hired him.”
“So Hickson told the truth. Oren used Hickson, and now he’ll end up in jail.” She shook her head. “Another life destroyed by Oren.”
Cal frowned. “Once this is over, I’ll do my best to see that Hickson gets a fair shake.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s nothing.” Cal stared at his hands for a moment before looking back at her. “You should also know, we’ve learned the name of another woman who we believe is working with Keeler.”
“A second woman. Do you think he’s choosing women to help him for some reason?”
“Honestly, we don’t know and may not know until we catch him and he tells us, but we’re wondering if it’s because Muslim women aren’t as closely scrutinized as men. This would allow Keeler to move about undetected.”
“How did you discover this woman?”
“Keeler talks about her in his journal. Her name is Nabijah Meer. Does that mean anything to you?”
Tara shook her head. “Have you been able to locate her?”
“No, and all we know at this point is that the origin of her name is Indian and Muslim.”
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