Pluto nodded. “I will give you a dossier after I clean your wounds. You will memorize every page and then recite every word to me within twenty-four hours.”
Number Three put a hand to her chest. “It would be my honor. I’m so looking forward to this.”
“If you fail, you know that I will have to kill you, right?”
“What other option would you have? I know that. I will not let you down.”
That was the singular moment when she knew.
Her experiment was destined for success.
17
Alex
I’d just shut the bedroom door and tapped the speaker button on my phone when someone knocked. I looked to Ozzie. “I thought I’d told everyone not to disturb us.”
“Did you say something, Alex?”
That was Brad on the other end of the line. He and Gretchen had, essentially, snuck off into a closet at the command center to talk to me and Ozzie.
“Yes, but hold on a second.”
I opened the door and saw Erin standing there. “Can I go to Becca’s house? She wants me to braid her hair into cornrows. And I was thinking she could do mine too.” She’d spoken so quickly I had to replay it in my head to understand. I pinched the corner of my eyes and repeated to myself “She’s only a teenager” three times—I’d read in some magazine that uttering the phrase would help me cope with her sometimes-irrational thoughts. “Erin, I thought you and everyone else in the house knew that Ozzie and I had this important call. And here you are, interrupting me.”
“So, you’re cool with it?”
I was trying to picture my Erin with cornrows. It would either look utterly ridiculous or make every guy at her school go wobbly at the knees. For a quick second, I considered trying to talk her out of this decision. But then I played out how the conversation would go. Let’s just say: not well. “Braiding hair, uh…sure. Sounds good.”
“Cool. I’ll be back later.” She flipped around and waved a hand behind her head.
“Have you finished all of your homework?” I asked.
She stopped at the top of the stairs, her back still to me. “Mostly.”
“When do you plan on finishing it?”
She turned around slowly. “I don’t understand the assignment.”
“When is it due?”
She glanced away momentarily and then said in a hushed tone, “Tomorrow.”
I just shook my head. “You can go to Becca’s after you finish your homework.”
“But, Mom…”
“You know the rules. Why would you even ask? Are you trying to fail?”
“I hate Greek mythology. It’s not even real, right? So why should we care? I know I don’t give two shits about it.”
“Your mouth.”
“Sorry. I’m just not into it.”
“That doesn’t mean you can blow it off.”
“But it’s just not fair.”
Fair? I was almost without words. Just as I was about to finish the conversation, Ozzie popped his head over my shoulder. “I’ll help you, Erin. Just wait until after this call.”
“Cool. How long will it take?”
“Five minutes, if we can get some quiet,” I said, shutting the door.
I released a deep breath.
“Everything good in Troutt land?” Brad laughed at his lame use of words.
“Funny, Brad.”
“What do you think they’ll say if they find us in this closet?”
That was Gretchen. There was no mistaking her voice. All dogs in the area turned their heads when she spoke because of her freakishly high pitch. She could have been the original soprano. And her voice matched her body—miniature. But she was a complete computer nerd and reveled in uncovering facts and seemingly irrelevant information faster than any other SOS at the FBI, and probably in the private sector as well. At one point in time, she’d had a crush on Brad. That was before Brad and I had started dating. Once our stars were aligned, it was as though we were on the same rocket ship together. Gretchen moved on and found a boyfriend, although I wasn’t sure if they were still together. As for me and Brad, I wondered if somehow the stars had been kicked out of alignment.
“That’s why we don’t have much time,” Brad said. “People around here are freaking out. Randy has his moments of losing it—especially when the mayor or governor wants to speak to him—and then there are times when he’s pretending this is just some standard investigation. I don’t know how to read the guy. He’s all over the place. Manic, even.”
“Don’t have time for a psych eval right now,” I said. “But I wanted to touch base on where things stand.”
“I’ll go first,” Gretchen said. “I’ve reviewed the key pieces of video near the aid stations where the bombs exploded. From what I can see, there was no sign of anyone leaving a backpack or anything else nearby that could hold an explosive device.”
“Wait—hold on a second,” Brad said. “Didn’t you see the update that the ATF made on the investigation portal?”
“I thought mobile alerts were supposed to go out when there was an update to the portal. No?” Gretchen said.
I had no idea how Randy had set up this operation. But I hadn’t seen anything on my phone, either.
“Brad?”
“Dammit, I know they made it. I helped them craft the update. I guess I never thought about the mobile alert.”
“Let’s worry about the system later. Maybe I’ll talk to Randy about it.” The mere thought twisted my stomach into a knot. “What was the update you guys posted?”
“So, it’s been determined by their forensics experts that one of the bombs—the one at the seventeen-mile station—most likely was housed in a corrugated box that had protein bars in it.”
My spidey sense started to tingle. “Most likely? What about conclusively?”
“Not sure the ATF operates in absolutes. But they did say they hope to continue to learn more information.”
“What about the other two bombs?”
“Two other teams are still sifting through the evidence. But now that they have this theory on that first bomb—”
I jumped in, saying, “Which was actually the third bomb to detonate.”
“True. Anyway, they’re focusing their efforts on a similar theory.”
“Has anyone reached out to the company that distributed the protein bars?”
“That’s in progress,” Brad said. “I’ll check on that after this call.”
I looked at Ozzie and believed for the first time that there was some hope, or at least the possibility of hope. “Anything else?”
“I’m working on this video review with three other SOS agents,” Gretchen said. “We’re focused on the footage near the aid stations right now, and we’ve only reviewed twenty-eight percent thus far. So, we have a good amount of work ahead of us. And it’s not something we can rush through. And now, after hearing Brad’s update, I think we need to go back and re-review the video, paying particular attention to every person in and around each aid station, what they’re doing, even their subtle movements, if they’re on a phone call, and countless other things.”
“Looks like we might have one lead, at least,” I said. “Brad, will you let us know?”
“Sure. Anything that you guys have found out on your end?”
Ozzie quickly explained the progress we’d made in speaking with the families of the victims. “We’ve spoken to at least one relative for each of the eight victims who died. We also touched base with nine who were wounded. A long way to go, and this may turn up nothing. Sounds like our best bet is the forensics angle from Brad and ATF.”
I nodded as my phone vibrated. It was a text message. I tilted the phone to where I could see the full screen. My heart shot into the back of my throat.
“What is it, Alex?” Ozzie asked, his hand on my shoulder.
I grabbed my purse off the chair. “It’s a message from Stan. They just had to rush Nick back into surgery.”
I ra
n off to the hospital, hoping that he would still be alive by the time I got there.
18
Ozzie
As Ezzy quizzed Mackenzie on her multiplication tables in the kitchen, I was on the couch, sifting through the PI database for background information on the wounded. Erin walked into the living room as if she might step on a mine. She had her laptop tucked under her arm.
“Is Mom okay? She ran out of here like a bat out of hell.”
I was sure her mom wouldn’t have appreciated the cussing, but her description was accurate. I told Erin about what we’d learned from Stan.
“Oh my God. Is he going to…?” She put a hand to her mouth.
“Honestly, Erin, we don’t know. But let’s think positive, okay?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. There was no question that Erin was Alex’s daughter. Erin’s wavy head of hair was golden blond, a little longer than Alex’s cut. Since Alex wore her hair in a ponytail most of the time—it seemed like she was perpetually ready to walk into battle at any moment—the resemblance was more obvious when Erin had her hair back, like now. Her eyes were deep blue. There was something about their facial structure that seemed so similar…the shape of her nose, or maybe it was her chin—I wasn’t sure. Without Alex standing next to her, it was hard to pin down what it was exactly, but their likeness was uncanny—albeit separated by twenty-something years.
Erin sat on the couch and petted Pumpkin as I typed in the last details of one of the wounded into my spreadsheet. “Okay, twenty down, seventy-six to go,” I said, pulling my eyes off the screen.
“If you need to keep working, it’s okay by me.” She began to stand up. “We can work on this later, after I get back from Becca’s house.”
Nice try. “Not sure your mom would agree with that approach.”
One side of her lip pulled upward, as if she’d smelled something rotten. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
I had a feeling that just mentioning her mom would incite some extra motivation. And I didn’t have to be the bad guy, either.
“So, what’s this Greek mythology assignment all about?”
“My teacher is weird. He’s just totally bizarre sometimes, pretending to be one of the Greek gods. He has all those Rick Riordan books stacked on his desk. He’s always reading one of them. He’s like a little kid, almost. None of us know what to think of him.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Did she not hear my question? Maybe she only wanted to vent a little bit.
“He sounds like an odd guy, I’ll say that much.”
“Totally, you know?” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. Pumpkin hopped onto the arm of the sofa, leaving a plume of fur hanging in the air. “Ah, Pumpkin, you might be the fattest cat in town, but you’re definitely the cutest.” She scratched the top of his nose and giggled.
“So, the assignment that’s due tomorrow…”
“Yeah?” She was off in another world, engaging Pumpkin in a game where she touched his front paws and he’d shift backward and then swat at her. He was declawed, so it was perfectly harmless. But she was just avoiding the inevitable with this little cat game.
I sighed loudly, thinking that she would hear me and get with the program. But she still didn’t pick up the signal. I took a moment and typed the next name from the wounded victims’ list, Daamir al-Dar, into the tracersinfo.com website and clicked “Submit.”
I looked up to see her completely engaged in this paw game with Pumpkin. Her computer had scooted off her lap. What’s that saying…sixteen going on thirty? How about sixteen going on six?
“Well, I’m about to leave to go run a few errands,” I said. I wasn’t, but it was another attempt to gain her attention.
“Huh?” She turned around as I stood up. “You’re leaving? Wait. Mom said I have to finish my paper before I go to Becca’s house.”
“I think I remember her saying that.”
She pulled her computer onto her lap. “Sorry if I got distracted. Do you mind helping me a little bit?”
I sat back down, glanced at my computer screen—the search results were still loading—and then faced Erin. “I’m willing to help if you’re willing to focus. This is your grade, not mine.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded three times quickly.
I motioned with my hand. “Let’s start by you just explaining what he’s asking you to do.”
“So, you know all of those Greek gods and goddesses? He kind of wants us to write a paper about them.”
And here I thought my fatherly experiences with my nine-year-old Mackenzie would give me an advantage. Not in the least. It was like I was dealing with an entirely different species. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if there was any way I’d be able to ask a special favor to the Man Upstairs about having Mackenzie bypass these years. I know, it was a useless wish. I might have better luck buying a lottery ticket.
“Did he tell you what he wanted you to write about?”
“I think…I don’t know.”
I just stared at her.
“Hold on; let me check his website. He probably put it on his calendar.”
She was taking initiative on something she didn’t want to do. Progress.
“Okay,” she said, pointing at the screen. “He wants us to imagine if one or more of the gods or goddesses were actually living in modern society and describe how they would impact the world. He said to be as creative as possible, and you don’t have to follow any type of regular society rules or laws.” She looked at me and turned her palms to the ceiling. “This is what the squirt upstairs would be into, not me.”
She was referring to Luke, not Mackenzie. I’d heard her call her brother “squirt” more times than I could count, and I’d been here only a few weeks.
“He was always into that make-believe stuff, not me.”
“But this isn’t his homework. Give him a couple of years.”
“But I have no fu—” She stopped herself and tried to smile. “I have no clue what to write or where to start.”
“Why don’t we look at the list of gods and goddesses and see which ones sound the most interesting?”
“I already know—none of them.” She crossed her arms. Her way of “dropping the mic.” Game over.
“Maybe ‘interesting’ wasn’t the right word. How about bizarre, or creepy, or—”
“Sure. Why not?” She turned the computer so we both could see it. I peeped at my laptop first; the results page had popped up. I saw something about the victim being a British citizen, but then my eyes got lost in the block of text.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
Time to shift my eyes and thoughts to Greek mythology. I perused the names of the gods and goddesses. “Oh, how about Asclepius, the god of health and medicine?”
“Boring.”
“Okay, how about Chronos, the god of time.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe, but check out this one.”
She pointed to the one below it.
When I read the name, I looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Circe, the goddess who transformed her enemies into beasts?”
Erin smiled and nodded.
I swiped a hand across my face. “Okay, do you have ideas on where you’d like to take this one?”
“I think I need one more. You know—that way, it’s easier for them to battle it out against each other, or team up to take over the world. Something like that.”
Now she had a real energy about her.
She scrolled through the list for a few minutes, and then her eyes got wide. She pointed.
I looked at the screen. “Harmonia, the goddess of harmony and concord?”
“No, the one above it.” She rubbed her hands together. “Hades, god of the dead.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a playful giggle. It was maniacal, in a teenage-girl kind of way. It almost made me laugh.
She started typing, and I didn’t say a word. I quietly sat back, pulled my laptop closer t
o me, and reviewed the information on the victim.
Daamir was indeed a British citizen. He was twenty-four years old and was in the States on a work visa. He lived in Malden, where he worked for a high-tech company called HipSpace. I switched tabs in my browser and looked at the original email that included the medical status of each victim. He was listed in stable condition at Massachusetts General Hospital, the same hospital as Nick.
A theory came to mind. It was based upon assumptions of things I knew very little about. But at this point, why not chase it?
I shut my laptop, stood up, and looked at Erin. She was typing as fast as a person could with two pointer fingers. She was smiling at the screen. Hmm. Perhaps Luke isn’t the only one who enjoys a bit of make-believe.
I slipped out of the room without her noticing and told Ezzy my plans. Mackenzie gave me a hug, and I left for the hospital.
19
Ozzie
I parked Ezzy’s car in the back of the long-term parking lot—the only one that had an available space—and hoofed it across the lot with the laptop bag over my shoulder. The bag was pink and lime green and had flowers all over it.
Another Erin hand-me-down.
I was surprised at my nimbleness as I weaved around cars. My body was finally healing—I dared to dream. Now if I could only get the cast off my arm; it was the last visible reminder on my body of when I’d caught up to Nicole’s killer. Shortly after Bruno Hopper had crushed my arm, he died. His truck slid across an icy bridge until it crashed into the side railing and dropped to the pit below.
Hopper had killed Nicole by pushing her over the side of a bridge. He might have shot her just before pushing her. We weren’t sure, because her body had yet to be found. Was the way in which he died the universe’s way of inflicting its own version of karma?
Not even close. That Hopper degenerate wasn’t worth the nail polish on one of Nicole’s fingernails.
Up ahead, I saw a lady struggling to close a folding stroller with a baby in her arms. I jumped in, did my thing, and placed the stroller in the back of her SUV. She thanked me, and I kept moving.
AT Stake (An Alex Troutt Thriller, Book 7) (Redemption Thriller Series 19) Page 9