by Radclyffe
Blair smiled wryly. "As long as she doesn't make me play pinochle with her. That's where I draw the line."
"Understood," Cam said, lightly pressing her lips to Blair's forehead. She didn't dare do more, because she was afraid if she felt the softness of Blair's lips, she might not be able to stop with one kiss. For some reason, she couldn't seem to control herself the way she was used to. She couldn't seem to stop wanting her.
Finally, Cam stepped away and crossed to the door. She looked back, her hand on the doorknob, and said quietly, "By the way, Dr. Coleman is fine. She was shaken up a bit by the blast, and I think she might have ended up on the bottom of the pile when we all hit the ground, but she's all right."
Blair studied her silently for a moment, looking for some sign that there was a hidden message in Cam's words. She should have known there wouldn't be. Cameron Roberts did not play games. "Thank you. I was worried."
Cam nodded, and opened the door. "I thought you might be."
"Cam?" Blair said quickly.
Cam looked at her questioningly.
"You do know there's no one, don't you?"
"I'd hoped," Cam replied softly, and then she was gone.
*
Two hours later, Blair stood in the doorway of the makeshift command center and surveyed the people grouped around the long dining room table in the center of the room. Cam, attired now in a dark gray suit and silver silk shirt, sat at one end of the table while Patrick Doyle occupied the seat opposite her at the far end. Mac was to Cam's left and Stark, a bandage on her forehead and a very impressive bruise on the side of her face, was beside him. Across from them were a man and woman Blair did not recognize. Savard looked mildly uncomfortable situated between Stark and Doyle.
Patrick Doyle looked up and frowned. "Can I do something for you, Ms. Powell?" he said tersely.
Blair studied him silently for a moment, then walked around the table and pulled out a chair next to Cam. "I'd like to get some idea of what's happening," she said quietly.
Doyle cleared his throat and rearranged some of the papers in front of him. When he looked up at her, his gaze was wintry. "We've just started, and I think at this point anything I could tell you would be premature. I'll advise you of anything you need to know at a later date."
Silently, Blair turned to Cam. No one could keep her out of the briefing, although it wasn't routine for her to sit in on one. It was obvious that Patrick Doyle did not want her there, but it wasn't his opinion she cared about.
"We're just getting started," Cam said. She didn't even look in Doyle's direction, but instead, pointed to the redhead next to Blair. "Ms. Powell, this is Special Agent Lindsey Ryan, a profiler from the behavioral science division at Quantico. I've asked her here to give us an idea of what to expect from Loverboy in the future."
"I think we should discuss the crime scene evidence and find out what we have from the bomb," Doyle immediately countered. "We need is hard data, not theory."
Cam did stare the length of the table at him then, but responded evenly, "Everything is important. My primary objective is to anticipate the potential threat to Ms. Powell, and to that end, I'd like to have as much information about the perpetrator as we can get. However," she said, indicating the handsome, dark-skinned man next to Ryan, "Captain Lane is our liaison from the ATF bomb division and he'll fill us in shortly."
Doyle's color rose, and although it appeared that he wanted to object, it was difficult to argue that Blair's safety was not the main concern. It was also clear that he was irate at having been subtly outmaneuvered. He merely closed his jaws tightly and nodded once, curtly.
"If you would go ahead, please, Agent Ryan," Cam said quietly.
Lindsey Ryan sat forward slightly and began, "After the incident yesterday, I reviewed all the information available on the UNSUB beginning with the first contact. My specific intention was to track his behavior, looking for any kind of cyclical or repetitive pattern. I was hoping that I might identify some kind of trigger that could help us predict what he would do next. What we see," she continued, her voice low and steady, "is a fairly erratic temporal pattern marked by predictable sequential events. Namely, he attempts seduction, and when that is unsuccessful, he follows with aggressive retribution when his overtures are rejected."
"Does this explain why someone who is presumably obsessed with Ms. Powell would also want to harm her?" Mac asked, frown lines deepening between his brows.
Ryan nodded. "Initially, he left a written message delivered to Ms. Powell's door, suggesting that he was the most worthy recipient of her attentions. He also indicated underlying anger by suggesting that she was misguided in placing her affections with people who were 'unworthy'. In essence, he was offering himself as a suitor. Clearly, when this approach failed, his anger escalated and he made his first attempt on Ms. Powell's life. This is not inconsistent with his obsessive attraction, in that very often a rejected suitor resorts to aggression. It's the old case of 'If I can't have you, no one else can either'."
"Does the fact that he's changed his methods signify anything? First a sniper attack, and now a bomb?" Cam asked quietly. She did not look at Blair, but she was acutely aware of her arm resting only an inch from hers on the tabletop. It was difficult knowing that Blair was hearing herself being discussed by relative strangers. She wished she could spare her that. She knew, however, that that was neither feasible nor desirable. Blair had a right to know about the threat that involved her, and keeping her in the dark would only result in losing her cooperation. And if Blair didn't cooperate with them, she would be in even greater danger.
"I don't think so," Ryan said with certainty. "I don't think that he is attached to any particular form of violent expression, as some psychopaths appear to be. I think it's more likely that he chose a more dramatic method of expressing his displeasure because his tolerance for failure is decreasing. Nothing else he's tried has worked, so he's going to be sure that she takes him seriously now."
A hard fist of anxiety clenched in Cam's chest. "So are you saying we can expect an escalation in the violence?"
Ryan shrugged. "This latest action is a statement. He's reminding us that he has power, and that he's in control, and that he should not be ignored. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't made some attempt at personal contact before this."
"He has," Blair said quietly.
Cam stared at her, a muscle in her jaw clenching. It took all her effort not to raise her voice. "Has he approached you in some way?"
Blair hesitated briefly, then met Cam's penetrating gaze steadily. "Not exactly. He sent a message saying he wanted me to meet him."
Doyle rose halfway from his seat, barking out, "When did this happen? Why weren't we made aware of it? If this is some kind of attempt by the Secret Service to cut us out of the loop, I'll-"
"I didn't tell anyone," Blair interrupted him by saying.
He was left momentarily speechless as he slowly sat back into his seat.
"Why not?" Cam questioned softly.
"I didn't realize at the time that it was significant," Blair answered, her eyes shadowed with worry. "He'd been sending messages regularly, mostly e-mails and the - videos. You know that - I reported that. I thought it was just more of the same."
Cam's stomach turned as she recalled the explicit images that Blair had received, and the graphic messages describing in excruciating detail what this nameless, faceless man fantasized about her. "What was it this time?"
"It was just another message," Blair said, her voice trembling slightly. "At least that's what I thought. I just logged on and it came up on the screen. He said- he said he'd been waiting for me, and he couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind. He said he would have to do it for me."
Stark looked at Doyle accusingly. "I thought you had someone monitoring her servers? How did this message get through and we didn't know?"
"You're out of line, Agent," Doyle growled.
"She has a point. An important one," Cam stated. "W
hy didn't any of us know this?"
Savard looked the length of the table at Blair and asked, "When was this?"
"Ten days ago," Blair said quietly. She looked at Cam. "The day you came back."
Blair didn't need to say anything. Cam realized that part of the reason Blair hadn't informed anyone about the message was because she hadn't been thinking about the threat to her life. Her attention had been focused on Cam's sudden reassignment to the security detail.
Savard continued, "It could have been a virus implanted previously and activated by something as simple as a piece of code buried in an innocuous e-mail advertisement. Even though Ms. Powell's system has been swept, it doesn't mean he hasn't infiltrated something else more recently."
Blair looked at Lindsey Ryan, her face pale. "Did he kill Jeremy Finch because I ignored him? Is it my fault?"
"No," Cam said quickly.
"Commander Roberts is right," Ryan interjected. "You're not responsible for Agent Finch's death. The only one responsible for that is the individual who placed and triggered the bomb. There is no way you could've satisfied his demands, because he is not even aware of what actually drives him. Regardless of what you do or do not do, he will never be content."
Doyle took that moment to add contemptuously, " You are certainly not to blame. No one would have been able to plant a bomb if security measures had been adequate."
His criticism was clearly directed at Cam, but it was Mac who responded. "You son of a bitch," Mac exploded, rising from his chair.
"Mac," Cam said firmly, her voice carrying a clear command.
Mac remained half-standing, his hands braced on the table, his expression murderous as he glared at Doyle.
"Let's take a break," Cam said calmly, pushing back her chair. She stood but didn't move until everyone but she and Doyle had left the room.
"If you have something to say to me, Agent Doyle, say it now," she said, facing him squarely.
He shrugged, his expression smug. " You lost a man, Roberts, not me. I have no idea why you're still in command, but I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you."
Cam waited until he had walked out before she sank slowly into her seat. She would have argued if he hadn't been right.
Chapter twenty-six
"Cam?" Blair said from the door of the dining room. "You don't believe that, do you?"
Cam had been staring blankly down at the table, and at the sound of Blair's voice, she straightened quickly, forcing a smile. "Eavesdropping on Federal business, Ms. Powell?"
Blair shook her head, refusing to be distracted by Cam's admittedly charming smile. Cam's automatic attempt to hide her feelings didn't mask the pain in her eyes. "I heard what Doyle just said, Cam," she said softly, crossing to stand beside the table. "He's wrong to blame you."
Cam sighed wearily. "No, he isn't. A man died under my command, Blair. That's my responsibility."
Blair's first instinct was to argue, because she couldn't bear to hear the anguish in Cam's voice. She understood Cam's feelings of accountability, even though rationally no one could be expected to anticipate every eventuality. It wouldn't matter to Cam, Blair knew. Not only was Cam trained to assume the blame, Blair knew that she was just made that way. It was one of the reasons she admired her, and, she admitted reluctantly to herself, it was also one of the reasons she loved her. Unfortunately, it was also one of the things that was keeping them apart.
"I talked to my father last night before you got here," Blair said quietly. She pulled out a chair and sat down on Cam's left, extending her hand on the tabletop until her fingers just touched the back of Cam's wrist. It wasn't enough, but it was all she could have at the moment. "He told me that he had every confidence in you, and that I should listen to you."
Cam couldn't help but grin. "Why do I think you ignored that last part?"
"Well," Blair laughed softly, "I don't always do everything he tells me." She stroked her fingers lightly over the top of Cam's hand and continued, "But I do agree with him that you are doing everything that can be done. And I'm so sorry for what happened to Agent Finch."
"So am I," Cam said softly, remembering the terrible silence on the end of the line when she informed Jeremy's family that he had been killed. Their stoic response and gracious thanks to her for calling them personally made it all the harder to bear. But that wasn't the worst of it. She looked at Blair, and there was naked torment in her eyes. "You could've been in that car, Blair. Another thirty seconds, and it would have been you."
"I wasn't," Blair whispered urgently, her fingers closing on Cam's arm. "Don't torture yourself."
"I don't know what I would have done," Cam whispered, trying hard not to think about the possibility.
"Don't do this," Blair insisted. "I'm all right, and as long as you're safe, I will be."
Cam smiled, Blair's presence, as always, banishing the nightmare images from her mind. "We seem to be the same situation then, Ms. Powell. Because as long as you're safe, I'm all right, too."
"Finally, we agree on something, Commander," Blair said softly.
For a moment, they simply rested with one another, their hands very lightly touching, but their connection much deeper than physical. Finally, Cam said reluctantly, "I need to finish up the briefing. Do you want to stay?"
"Will you fill me in later?" Blair asked.
"Yes."
"In that case, I think I've had enough of people and procedures for a while. Is there any rule against me going outside?"
"Not as long as you don't mind company," Cam said quietly. "And I'd prefer if you stayed on the grounds, at least for this afternoon."
"You know, I don't even know where we are."
"I'm sorry, I never thought to tell you," Cam apologized. "Croton-on Hudson," she added, naming a small, scenic community on the Hudson River.
Blair pushed her chair back and rose reluctantly. "I'll see you later, then, Commander."
Cam stood and watched her disappear into the other room, then squared her shoulders and followed her. Mac was waiting just outside the door. "Let's get this done, Mac," she said to him. "Bring everyone back in."
"Doyle is trying to make trouble for you," Mac seethed.
"Let him try," Cam said quietly. "We need to focus on Egret's safety, and I think he's got information we need. Let's use him."
Mac looked in the direction that Blair had gone, then asked in a low voice, "Are you going to tell her about the photograph?"
"Yes. She needs to know." She answered him because she liked and respected him. She didn't ask him if he approved, because she didn't require his approval. She also had a feeling that he did not agree, but then the decision wasn't up to him.
*
It was close to sundown when Cam finally finished the briefing and went to find Blair. She found her sitting on the side of a small dock on the edge of the river that ran along the rear of the property. Ellen Grant watched from under a small clump of trees twenty yards away. Otherwise, they were alone.
"Hello," Cam said as she eased down beside her.
Blair smiled softly. "Long meeting, Commander."
"Yes."
"Anything new?"
Cam sighed in frustration. "Not much yet. A lot of conflicting theories about the bomb, but not much hard data. It appears to have been a high order explosive, probably RDX, the current material of choice. Captain Lane says that the limited range of the blast indicates a small charge that could have been detonated with something as innocuous looking as a radio pager. We have no idea how or when it was placed, but the vehicle was serviced three days ago. Doyle has a team at the shop now - interviewing employees, tracking parts that might have been used - looking for anything. Something."
"But surely someone was watching the car while it was worked on?" Blair asked.
"Yes," Cam confirmed, "but Lane said it wouldn't take more than a second to slip something under the carriage with a magnet or even quickbond of some kind. It could have happened while the car was following us a
long the race route. Jeremy would have had to make multiple stops with people all around."
Blair shivered, but could find no words to express her horror.
"There's something else," Cam said quietly, handing her the small white rectangle she had been carrying in her pocket for hours.
"I don't understand," Blair said, staring at the photograph. It was an image of herself standing on the platform in Sheep Meadow, with Cam visible just behind her, clearly taken the previous day during her speech. Her eyes were riveted on the circled "x" inked in red over her chest. "If he targeted me while I was on the stage, why --?"
"Turn it over," Cam said gently.
Blair did, and read in chillingly familiar block print on the back, IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU. She caught her breath, and her hand trembled. "This is what was in the envelope that Marcy was trying to give me, isn't it?
"Yes," Cam responded. "Agent Ryan believes that you were never the intended target yesterday. He didn't mean to kill you at all. He simply wanted to send you the message that he could have if he'd wanted to."
Blair stared at Cam, a horrible realization dawning upon her. "And the rifle shot outside my building? Was I the target then - or was it you all the time?"
Cam looked uncomfortable, but she wouldn't lie to her. "That's unclear. It's impossible to reconstruct the scene exactly, because we don't have adequate video documentation. I didn't realize there even was a reconstruction until this afternoon. The FBI had confiscated all of the tapes and none of us had ever seen them. You can't tell from the camera angle the precise sequence of events when the shot was fired. Even with digital remastering and time sequencing, it's unclear whether the trajectory line was toward you or me, because we were so close together, and there aren't good sightlines on the video. I just can't say for sure."
"Are you telling me you spent all afternoon watching a videotape of yourself being shot?" Blair asked incredulously.
"Well, not all afternoon," Cam said, trying to defuse the anger she heard brewing in Blair's voice. It hadn't been that difficult after she had seen it the first time and recognized how quickly everyone had responded, and how well protected Blair had actually been. It relieved a great deal of her anxiety about Blair's vulnerability.