by Terri Reed
“They’re on their way,” the officer said, pointing toward an ambulance and a fire truck rolling slowly down the street, barely fitting between the rows of parked cars.
Drew kept a hand on Sami’s shoulder, preventing her from standing. “Let the paramedics check you out first.”
She grunted and sat back down. “Do you still have the evidence from my room?”
He patted the breast pocket of his dress shirt. “Here.”
“Good. We need to give it to an officer right away and have them run DNA.” She glanced down at his shirt and gasped. “You’re bleeding!”
Her small capable hand tugged him sideways. He craned his neck to see what had her upset. A chunk of glass protruded from his back, and crimson blood soaked his white shirt and dripped onto the grass.
The rush of adrenaline had kept his pain sensors on low boil. He met Sami’s gaze. “I barely feel it.”
Except even as the words left his mouth, the stinging intensified. Apparently, acknowledging the wound gave his pain sensors permission to squawk. He reached back, intending to pull the glass out, but Sami jerked on his arm.
“Oh, no, you don’t. Let the paramedics take care of you.” She mimicked his words.
He grinned and conceded the point with a nod.
Two paramedics rushed to their side. One attended to Sami’s laceration while the other dealt with his wound.
“Sir, we’ll need to remove this at the hospital.”
That didn’t sound promising. He sent up a prayer that no vital organs had been punctured.
Before they left the scene, he passed off the evidence to a police officer. Sami dug her credentials out of a pocket. “Get that to Forensics ASAP and send the results to the Portland FBI field office.”
The officer nodded and hurried away with the bag.
Sami rode with Drew in the ambulance. He lay on his side, facing her while one paramedic stabilized the hunk of glass.
“I’m going to give you a mild pain reliever,” the EMT said. Drew felt the pinch of a needle, then a slow-spreading numbness across his back.
As the vehicle rolled away, Drew took Sami’s hand. “I’m sorry about the loss of your home.”
She squeezed his hand. Tears formed in her eyes. “Me, too. I liked that house.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “But it’s only things. And things I can replace. We survived.”
Her reaction surprised and impressed him. “Most people wouldn’t be so cavalier about their possessions going up in smoke.” He wondered if he’d feel the same if he lost his home. All the photos and mementos and memories. Some good, some bad.
“Believe me, I’m furious and sad and every emotion you could possibly name.” Her voice shook with the intensity of her feelings. “But I can’t undo what’s done. I hate that he did this. I hate that he invaded my home. I hate that he’s trying to destroy my life. But what’s that saying—you can’t take it with you?”
She shrugged. “Relationships, especially one with God, are more important than material possessions. That’s something Birdman will never grasp.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “There are days when my faith is tested to the brink.”
His heart ached for the pain she suffered. “I agree with you that it’s hard to be in our line of work and not have our faith waver when we deal with so much evil.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Exactly.”
He was suddenly gripped by the urge to bury his hands in her hair, pull her close and see if her lips were as soft as they looked. Deliberately, he concentrated on the pain in his back to chase the longing away.
Once he regained his composure, he said, “And you’re right—relationships are more important than material possessions.”
If only his mother and Gretchen had believed that. Being betrayed by the two people whose love and commitment he shouldn’t have had to question had left him wary of ever fully trusting again.
Another thought struck him and he grimaced. “All your research is gone. All your hard work and energy destroyed. Birdman’s intent, no doubt.”
“Probably. But he’s not as clever as he thinks. I have copies of everything in a safe-deposit box.”
“Amazing foresight on your part.” Respect for this astonishing woman blossomed within him. “Were you anticipating something like this?”
“No. But I had an instructor at Quantico who always made a point of duplicating his files and keeping them off-site, so to speak. He was old-school. I respected him and the idea of always having a backup copy appealed to me.”
And she appealed to Drew. She was smart and brave. He liked how her mind worked. He couldn’t have asked for anyone better as a partner in the field.
Partner only, he reminded himself. A partner on a case. Nothing more, nothing less.
At the hospital, the ER doctor removed the piece of Sami’s front window from his back and stitched up the gash. He instructed Drew to change the bandage often and gave him a couple of pain pills to take until he could fill a prescription. Drew had no intention of impairing his judgment with the pills, so he wrapped them in a tissue and slipped them in his pants pocket.
When he left the exam room, he found Sami in the waiting area sitting on a hard plastic chair in a long line of similar chairs. In the corner a television blared the news, showing the charred remains of Sami’s house.
She was talking with an older man wearing a gray striped suit. Her light-colored cargo pants had grass stains, and soot smudged her blouse. Her hair had been tied back with a rubber band and a white bandage covered the cut on her scalp.
As Drew approached, Sami broke off the conversation, stood and studied him. All signs of her tears were gone; in their place was determination. “You okay?”
Glad to see she was back to her feisty self, he nodded. “Five stitches. Thankfully, the glass didn’t puncture any vital organs.”
Relief flashed in her blue eyes. She touched the bandage on her head. “Two butterfly stitches.” She gestured to the man and made the introductions. “Drew, this is special agent in charge of the Portland FBI office Rob Granger.”
Ah, her boss. Drew shook the man’s hand. “Sir, nice to meet you.”
Granger’s lips pressed into a grim line. “I wish it were under better circumstances, Inspector Kelley. Thankfully, you both walked away from the explosion with your lives.”
“Yes, that is something to be grateful for,” Drew agreed. He sent up silent praise to God for the favor of His protection.
“The FBI forensic team is on the scene as we speak,” Granger said. “I’ve been in contact with Deputy Director Moore from Homeland Security, who in turn has been in contact with your consulate general.” Drew had never met Director Moore, who called the shots on the American side of IBETs. “We’ve agreed to a joint operation with the RCMP and FBI, as well as IBETs, utilizing our combined resources to find and capture this man.”
With that much manpower behind them, taking down the perp Sami had been chasing on her own should be a piece of cake. Though somehow Drew had an unsettled suspicion that underestimating their prey wouldn’t serve them well.
“Birdman,” Sami said. “He’s slippery. And we don’t know when or where he’ll strike next. He may have already—like killing the man who owns the credit card we found in Canada.”
Drew slanted her a glance. It was unnerving how in tune Sami was to his own thoughts. “Mr. Clark is still missing. I would like to hope he’s not dead, but…”
“Doubtful,” Sami interjected, clearly anticipating his next words. “We should get his DNA and send it to the forensic team here for comparison.”
“Good idea.” Drew made a mental note to contact the Toronto local law to have them collect a sample from Mr. Clark’s home.
Sami explained their reason to her boss. “Birdman left me a present in my house before the explosion. A body part. We sent it to Forensics for DNA testing. We believe it came from another of Birdman’s victims.”
Granger inclined his head in agreement
. He looked them both over, then removed a notepad and pencil from his pocket and handed them to Sami. “Both of you need to make a list of what you need, clothes and essentials. I’ll have Agent Foster bring whatever you need. I booked you rooms at a hotel downtown. Come on—I’ll drive you.”
They followed Granger out of the hospital to the parking garage. Granger walked a few paces ahead, his long stride eating up the pavement.
Drew’s gait was slowed by the pulling of the stitches in his back. The numbing agent fortunately hadn’t worn off yet. Sami adjusted her stride to match his. He appreciated her thoughtfulness. She worked on her list as they walked.
Granger reached a black SUV. The beep of the locks disengaging echoed off the garage walls.
The sound of a revving engine reverberated through the stone-and-concrete structure. Tires squealed as a blue sedan shot out from a parking spot ten feet away. The car barreled forward, aiming right at them.
Within Drew adrenaline spiked. With one hand he withdrew his sidearm; with his other hand he shoved Sami at the exact moment she shoved him. Using their combined momentum, they each dived sideways seconds before the car sped past.
Drew grunted as he hit the ground, taking the impact on his shoulder and rolling onto his stomach to protect his back.
A barrage of gunfire split the air as Drew, Sami and Granger fired at the car. The rear window and taillights exploded.
The car fishtailed before careening out of the parking garage and speeding into the late-afternoon traffic. Angry motorists cut off by the assailant honked as the sedan disappeared from view.
Sami jumped up and ran to his side. Frantic, she grasped his shoulders. “You okay?”
Rolling gingerly to his backside, he grunted as the pain overcame the numbness he’d been so grateful for just moments ago. “Yes.” He took her offered hand. “You?”
“Yep.” Relief shone in her eyes. She pulled him to his feet.
The stitches protested. He arched as another hiss of pain zipped across his flesh.
Sami put an arm around his waist and moved in close. “You can lean on me.”
Though he didn’t need a crutch, he couldn’t deny how nice it felt to have her pressed so close.
Granger joined them, holstering his weapon. “Did either of you get the plate numbers?”
“I did,” Sami said.
“Good.” Granger eyed Drew. “We should have the docs recheck your wound.”
He grimaced, not wanting to go back inside. He looked at Sami. “Will you check it?”
Her eyes widened at the request. Then she nodded, her expression intent. She lifted his shirt. Her cool fingers probed around the tender edges of the bandage before she gently peeled away a corner. “You didn’t pop any stitches and they aren’t bleeding.”
“Then there’s no reason to go back to the emergency room,” he said firmly. “Did you see the driver?”
“He had on a baseball cap and sunglasses. The car’s visor was pulled down also,” she replied after reattaching the bandage and lowering his shirt.
“Yeah, that’s what I saw, too.”
She moved in close again. “Cliché but effective.”
“Couldn’t be sure of ethnicity either.” He couldn’t keep frustration from coating his words. “The guy’s bold.”
Within minutes the Portland police arrived and took their statements. Sami gave the license number of the sedan to the officers.
Once they were done with the local police, Granger ushered them to the SUV. “Let’s get out of here, people.”
Drew and Sami slid into the backseat. Leaving the hospital behind, Granger merged the SUV into the afternoon highway traffic.
Drew shifted so that his injured back didn’t touch the seat and suppressed a wince. Sami laced her fingers through his. He held on, appreciating her anchoring effect.
“Did the doc give you anything for the pain?” Sami asked, watching him closely.
“He did, but I’m not taking it,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow. “Tough guy, huh?”
He shrugged. “Need my brain to be working, not loopy on medication.”
“Pain control aids in the healing process.”
“You a doctor now, eh?”
“No, but I’ve been injured.”
He shot her a sharp glance. “On the job?”
She lifted her right pant leg to reveal a scar on her shin. “Bouldering trip up the gorge. A rock and I didn’t get along so well.”
“I’ve never been. Rock climbing sounds dangerous.”
An impish grin broke out on her face and walloped him in the midsection.
“Maybe someday I’ll take you out to Smith Rock,” she said. “It’s beautiful there. Rivers, hiking trails and rock climbing for all levels of experience.”
“You’re a risk taker outside of the job, too.” He squeezed her hand. “Makes sense considering you’ve been tracking a killer on your own for six months. A killer that has blown up your house and tried to mow you down.”
She grimaced and had the good graces to look a bit sheepish. “Guilty as charged.”
But she seemed hardly fazed. He, on the other hand, despised the anxiousness gripping his insides as if he was waiting for the next blow to come. They needed to nail the suspect and put him away. Then Drew would breathe easier.
She lowered her pant leg and then straightened. “Pain causes stress. Stress in turn suppresses the immune system and slows healing.”
“I don’t think my stress is pain related,” he muttered. He had a feeling as long as he was with Sami, he’d be stressed. She challenged him and at the same time she drew him in. The connection forming between them made him uneasy because he was afraid he was harboring more than a professional interest in the beautiful agent.
Letting things get personal between them wasn’t a smart idea. Trusting her to have his back was one thing, but trusting her with his heart? Not going to happen.
Her fingers closed over his forearm. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can decline. No one will think less of you. You’re injured.” She squeezed his arm. “Now that Granger is on board, I can have someone else assigned to work this case with me.”
“I thought you preferred working alone,” he commented while unsuccessfully ignoring the heat of her hand on his arm.
She made a face. “Normally, I do, but I’ve realized the value of…good backup.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Backup, eh?”
She didn’t consider him her partner, which was why she was giving him an out. Or had she somehow sensed his inner turmoil? He couldn’t deny that being injured made him feel vulnerable. A feeling he wasn’t used to. Unlike Sami, he’d never had a serious injury. Only minor ones where over-the-counter pain relievers sufficed. But he’d never run from a challenge before and wasn’t going to let the pretty agent down now.
“I’m in,” he said. “Birdman tried to kill us twice now. He’s made this personal.”
She studied him, her blue eyes contemplative. Then she nodded. “Okay. When we get to the hotel, promise me you will take something so you can rest and heal. We’re going to need all our strength to see this through.”
*
Not long after Sami and Drew checked into separate hotel rooms on the eighteenth floor of a refurbished popular downtown Portland hotel, Agent Foster brought them the items on their lists. Sami was happy to get out of her smelly, dirty clothes. She imagined Drew felt the same.
Grateful to have a few moments to herself, Sami showered and changed before calling her parents to let them know she was all right even if her house wasn’t. Mom went quiet, as she usually did, while Dad stormed on about her picking a profession that constantly put her life in jeopardy.
It was an old argument. One she didn’t have the patience for today. Though her father had put her through self-defense lessons and firearms training and had encouraged her athleticism, he’d hoped she’d return to Seaside to settle down in a nice peaceful life, maybe teachi
ng or nursing. When she’d told her parents her plans for college and beyond, they’d not been happy. But she hadn’t let that stop her, because she knew they loved her no matter what.
After promising she’d be careful, she hung up. Then she called her homeowners’ insurance company. What a bureaucratic nightmare that turned out to be. An investigation would be launched by the insurance company, along with the fire department, police and federal investigations.
Afterward she tried to rest, but she was too keyed up. Instead she put away her meager belongings and went to the connecting door that separated her from Drew. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. What if he’d taken some medication and was sleeping? She should let him rest.
She pressed her ear to the crack in the door. She could barely discern Drew’s deep voice. He was talking on the phone, not asleep.
She knocked. A moment later he answered. He’d showered, as well. His dark hair was damp but slicked back. He’d put on olive-green slacks and a white T-shirt that molded to his chest muscles very nicely. He held his cell phone to his ear with one hand and waved her in with the other.
Their rooms were the mirror images of each other. Queen bed, dresser with a plasma TV, a desk and a chair and ottoman near the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Portland skyline and the Willamette River with a nice view of Mount Hood in the distance.
Sami entered and sat on the edge of the bed. The pile of replacement bandages that the doctor had sent with Drew lay on the desk. Like a game of charades, she gestured to the bandages and then to his back, hoping he understood her question: Did he want her to change his bandage?
He nodded, still listening to whomever was on the other end of the line.
She quickly opened a new bandage, then stepped up behind him. He smelled like the hotel’s sandalwood-scented soap, fresh and clean. Gently, she lifted the hem of his T-shirt and removed the old bandage. The stitches were intact with no blood seeping through, though they were damp from his shower. She wasn’t sure he was supposed to have allowed the stitches to get wet yet but since she wasn’t his keeper, she kept the thought to herself as she applied a new bandage.
“I appreciate your help,” Drew said into the phone. “I’ll be in touch.”