Fatal Mistake--A Novel by Susan Sleeman (17)

Today was the day. The day Tara went back to the pump house. The day she dreaded, and yet she hoped the visit would help with the investigation.

She’d be lying if she said the thought of visiting the burned-out shell didn’t weigh heavy on her mind. It apparently weighed on Cal, too, because breakfast at the new safe house near D.C. was a silent affair between them. She’d tried small talk for the first few minutes, but it was forced and awkward, so she turned her attention to eating her yogurt.

Cal’s phone chimed, and he lifted it to read the text. His jaw tightened, and Tara took a deep breath to prepare herself for more bad news.

“The text is from Kaci.” He held out his phone, showing a picture of Oren captured by a security camera.

Her stomach knotted, unsettling her breakfast. “Where was it taken?”

“Eugene airport. He chartered a jet to D.C. Kaci spoke to the pilot and confirmed Keeler took the flight and touched down in D.C. in the middle of the night. Means Keeler could be looking for you, and we need to be extra cautious.”

Tara reached for her rubber bands. The first pull bit into her skin, but the ominous feeling remained. So what? She’d committed to helping catch Oren, and that meant taking risks. But she didn’t have to be a fool about it.

“I’ll follow your every direction today,” she said to Cal, but in reality the words were meant for her.

“I hate that Keeler’s back in the area, but if I’d known his arrival would make you so compliant…” Cal smiled.

Despite her misgivings, she couldn’t resist his playful attempt to brighten her mood. She let go of the rubber band and returned his smile. The tension fled and electricity charged between them.

He freed his gaze and gestured at the door to the garage. “We should get going.”

Cal said he wanted to keep his focus on the road and his mirrors, so they drove in silence. She also watched out the window, noting each and every car until they turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and got caught up in the tourist traffic. FBI headquarters was located in the J. Edgar Hoover building, which sat between the White House and the U.S. Capitol, an area bustling with visitors on foot and in cars.

Cal fired a cautionary look in her direction. “With the congested traffic, this is the most critical zone, so stay alert. Look past the families crowding the street and search for any threat.”

His focus intensified, and she tried to comply, but she couldn’t see through the waves of people enjoying the sights. Tension mounting, she slid a finger under her rubber band and knotted it around her finger until Cal pulled into the secured parking area. Even then, her pulse continued to race, and settled down only after they stepped inside the FBI’s fortress locked down tight with metal detectors and screeners. Oren couldn’t get through the FBI’s defenses, and for the first time in months, stress flooded from her body and she could finally breathe freely.

Cal stood with her while the guards cleared her, and then they rode a nearby elevator to a small foyer. Cal swiped a security card to unlock a door and headed down a pin drop–quiet hallway. Professional men and women were hurrying about their business with single focus and thankfully not paying any attention to Tara’s jeans and T-shirt. She’d hoped someone on the Knights’ team could have gone to her house to grab nicer clothing, but Cal said it could tip off anyone watching the place.

How she missed home, a row house on a tree-lined street with brightly painted houses as far as the eye could see. She rented the place from another translator who was temporarily assigned overseas. Since she was still paying off student loans and saving money for travel, she could never have afforded such a nice house if not for her coworker, and each day when she arrived home, she relished the place, as she’d soon have to move back into a cheaper apartment.

“Everything okay?” Cal asked as he stopped next to another door.

“Yes, just homesick.”

“Understandable. You’ve been gone for a long time.” He pressed his thumb against a digital print reader. The lock clicked, and the door popped open.

“Hold on a second,” he said, and stuck his head inside. “You have a minute, Kaci?”

Cal held the door barely cracked open and tapped his foot.

Tara tried to scoot around him to see inside the room, but he blocked her view. “Seriously, what do you have in there?”

“Information,” he replied cryptically. “Nothing but information.”

Kaci pushed the door open and peeked out. “About time you got here. We have a—” She suddenly noticed Tara. “Oh, hi, Tara. I didn’t think Cal would bring you here.”

“You have a what?” Cal asked.

“A lead, but maybe that should wait until we decide if it can be shared.” She tipped her head at Tara.

Cal spun to face Tara. “Would you mind waiting out here with Kaci for a moment?”

She didn’t like all the cloak-and-dagger stuff, but she’d promised to listen to Cal’s directions today, so she nodded her agreement. Kaci stepped out, and Cal disappeared behind the door before pulling it closed.

“What’s he up to in there?” Tara asked.

“He’s most likely being read in on the latest lead and determining if we can share it with you. And since this is our strategy room, we keep a timeline of events, pictures, and other information posted on the walls. He’s probably removing sensitive information that can’t be shared with anyone outside the team.”

“If you all want my help, why keep things from me?”

Kaci frowned. “Let me first say, we don’t willingly share any information.”

“I thought that was just Cal.”

“He’s a quiet one, all right.” Kaci smiled and looked like a teenager instead of a woman in her thirties. “But if you really want to see someone who doesn’t share much, Rick’s your guy. He’s so used to being held to the standard of perfection as a sniper that he weighs his words carefully before he speaks. He gives a mummy a run for his money in the silence department.” Kaci laughed.

Tara laughed, too, and hoped Kaci would serve as an ally on the team. At least be someone who was more forthcoming, who Tara could go to when Cal didn’t provide a straight answer.

“About the information sharing,” Kaci continued. “As a team, we decide which details, if they were leaked, could harm our investigation. We try to ensure that talk of those items never leaves the four walls of this room.”

“I see.” Tara’s mind shifted to thinking about how many things Cal might have kept from her.

He’d shared some pretty gruesome things, but had he let her see only the tip of the iceberg when it came to Oren’s depravity?

The door popped opened, and Cal stood back. They were allowing her into their inner sanctum. Exciting.

She stepped in and let her gaze race over the room. Her excitement plummeted. She didn’t see a supersecret lair, just a plain old meeting room. She focused on a round table in the middle of the space where the team had congregated.

In keeping with her inner sanctum thoughts, she imagined King Arthur with his knights gathered around their table, and a laugh escaped before she could stop it.

Cal eyed her.

She gestured at the table. “The table. It’s round.”

He continued to stare at her.

“You know, like Knights of the Round Table.”

Kaci chuckled behind her, and Tara didn’t feel so bad about bringing it up, but the others continued to stare at her.

“C’mon, people.” Kaci dropped into a chair next to Shane. “Lighten up.”

“Go ahead and have a seat, Tara.” Cal’s serious tone was in complete opposition to Kaci’s comment.

Tara didn’t know how to get the happy guy from yesterday back, but she wished she could. As she crossed the windowless room, she took a closer look at the space. Bookshelves filled with dated three-ring binders going back seven months filled one wall. Another held a long workbench with a variety of tools neatly mounted above. And as Kaci had mentioned, whiteboards holding timelines for each bombing with graphic pictures and vinyl pockets containing information covered the other walls.

Tara took in the pictures of the murdered Muslim women posted on the wall next to burned-out buildings and car shells. As she read the names below, each woman became a person to her instead of a statistic, and sadness wove through her body. She spotted the names of her friends from Atlanta and Dallas, and she quickly averted her gaze before she saw any horrific pictures.

Her good mood long gone, she dropped onto the chair, wanting to be anywhere but in this room circled with death and destruction.

The door latch released and everyone looked at the door except Cal.

He kept his focus on her. “That’ll be Max.”

Eager to get a look at the person who commanded the very strong-willed team, Tara stared at the door.

A man about Cal’s height with military-perfect posture stepped inside. He had the squarest jaw Tara had ever seen and sandy-brown hair that looked like he’d recently run his fingers through it. He wore what she now assumed was the team uniform of khaki pants and a navy shirt. With his swagger and confident look, she could easily imagine him leading the Knights.

His fierce focus traveled around the table and landed on her, where it lingered.

“Ms. Parrish.” He stepped closer and offered his hand, his gaze lightening a fraction. “I’m Max White.”

She accepted his hand and made sure she didn’t flinch at his iron grip or close scrutiny.

“I’m sorry we have to meet under such dire circumstances.”

She nodded but couldn’t for the life of her come up with anything to say.

Cal clapped Max on the shoulder. “Feel free to speak your mind with Max. He can be kind of intimidating, but don’t let that stop you.”

“Kind of,” Kaci said, and the others grunted their agreement.

“It’s not intentional, I assure you,” Max replied warmly, then cast a baleful look at his team. He pulled out a chair and straddled it, making Tara think he didn’t plan to stay long. “So what did you need to see me about?”

Cal took a seat. “We’ve discovered information on a woman who seems to be working with Keeler.” He peered at Kaci. “You found the lead, so why don’t you share the details with Max?”

“Happy to.” She smiled and opened a laptop computer. “Hoping to collect any photos from the area before the bomb detonated, we set up LEEDIR before we left Dallas.”

“LEEDIR stands for Large Emergency Event Digital Information Repository and is a database,” Cal told Tara. “Basically law enforcement makes a plea to the public to upload photos they took of a specified area. It’s used mostly for large events like earthquakes, the Boston bombing, that sort of thing.”

Kaci nodded. “We figured it was a long shot, as there could only be so many people in the Dallas bomb vicinity. On top of that, they would need a reason to be taking pictures, but we put out a plea anyway. Last night three photos came in from a person who was visiting her sister and snapping shots of the barbeque joint next door. We cropped out the person at the barbeque place, then enhanced and enlarged the image background, revealing this woman.”

Kaci clicked a button on her computer, and an image flashed onto the large television mounted on the wall. The woman had dark skin, and a strand of jet-black hair peeked out of her head covering. Kaci advanced the pictures, and the woman moved in a way that would look furtive if you were looking for something suspicious.

Rick leaned closer to the screen. “She fits the size and build of the woman Hickson described.”

“I thought the same thing,” Kaci said. “And she’s acting odd, so we ran her through facial recognition.”

“And?” Max asked.

“It returned this.” She handed Max a sheet of paper.

Tara waited for Kaci to hand a page to her, but she didn’t. Obviously the team had decided not to share this detail outside the group. Tara was disappointed, but she couldn’t do anything about them keeping the woman’s identity confidential.

Cal must have caught her questioning look as he leaned close. “She’s a known ISIS associate who lives in the D.C. area.”

“D.C.?” Tara muttered. “So if she was in Dallas on the day of the bombing, she could very well be connected to Oren.”

“Yes, and all we need is a search warrant and we can raid her home.” Rick sounded like he couldn’t wait to break down the woman’s door.

Max laid the paper facedown on the table and sat back. “Odds aren’t good that a judge would sign off on a warrant based on such limited information and circumstantial connection. Do we have anything beyond a Middle Eastern woman looking a bit suspicious outside a restaurant near the bombing site?”

“Other than she lives here in D.C. and has an ISIS affiliation, no,” Kaci said.

“You’ll need to run a stakeout on her or find another connection to Keeler if you hope to get that warrant.”

“We all get that, Max,” Cal said. “But we were hoping due to the exigent circumstances you could work your magic with a judge.”

Max pushed to his feet. “Magic is one thing, but even the great David Copperfield couldn’t pull this one off.” He strode to the door. “Call me when you have more.”

“That went well,” Kaci grumbled the moment the door closed behind Max.

“Did you expect more from the master of ‘give me cold, hard facts and nothing more’?” Cal asked.

“No, but…”

Rick picked up the paper Max had left behind. “Let me confirm that she still lives at this address, and then I’ll stake out her house.”

“And I’ll burn up my keyboard looking for additional information online,” Kaci added.

“I’ll get started on reviewing the victims’ files like I promised last night,” Shane said. “But is there anything else you’d like me to do first?”

“Two things,” Cal replied, “but they’re not related to this woman. Can you follow up with the analysts to see where they stand on Tannerite purchases in Oregon and track down any leads?”

“Got it, and what else?”

“Before you get started on the Tannerite, can you go to evidence and bring up the items recovered from Keeler’s rental house so Tara can review them?”

Shane didn’t respond right away, but sat in contemplative thought. “You’re hoping her history with Keeler will reveal something we’ve missed.”

Cal nodded and stood. “If any new information comes to light, you’ll find me here with Tara. We’ll review the evidence, and I’ll be playing the audio from her call to the hotline. If that doesn’t bring back any memories, we’ll visit the pump house. I’ll let you know if and when I need your help on that detail.”

The team might as well have smacked hands together and shouted “break” like football players in a huddle, as they got up in unison, gathered their items, and moved to the exit without a word.

Cal’s focus remained on the door until it closed. His gaze switched to Tara. “Would you like a cup of coffee or some water?”

“Water, please.”

He crossed the room to a small refrigerator in the corner, retrieved two bottles of water, and set one in front of her.

“We spend a lot of time in this room, so we keep drinks and snacks handy. Let me know if you want anything else.” He sat next to her and pulled a computer close. “Are you ready to hear your hotline call?”

She nodded, but in all honesty, she’d never be ready to hear the details of that night.

“Perhaps you’ll want to close your eyes so you can focus.”

She didn’t know if she wanted to do that either, but it would at least keep her from looking at the horrific pictures on the wall, so she clamped her eyes closed.

“Okay, here we go.”

The computer speakers crackled, and she took a deep breath.

“Hotline, this is Special Agent Cal Riggins.” Cal’s rumbling voice replaced the crackling.

“My aunt’s tenant, Oren Keeler.” Her words came pouring out, each one trying to step on the prior one. Even with vague memories of the incident, the terror in her own voice brought a wave of fear crashing over her. She focused on drawing air and blowing it out while continuing to listen carefully. Soon a hint of a memory danced on the edge of her mind, but actual visions of the night remained shrouded.

She clenched her hands in frustration and listened to the recorded conversation as Cal tried to calm her down and told her how to overpower Oren. Muffled sounds followed, making no sense to her. A gunshot cracked through the speakers.

“I remember him shooting at me. Right there by the pump house.” She opened her eyes and found Cal’s focus fixed on her.

The rustling sound played once again.

“What’s that noise?” she asked.

“It’s the sound of your phone rubbing against your pocket as you ran from Keeler.” He pressed the button on his computer and the noise stopped.

“Is that the end of the recording?”

“No.”

“I want to hear it all.”

Cal seemed to mull it over, but finally nodded. “I’ll skip past the running noises.”

He fast-forwarded the audio. She closed her eyes again, and the sound of the massive explosion tore through the speakers.

She could almost feel the ground rumbling under her chair, and she jumped. Cal took her hand, and she clasped his with an iron grip that likely had him wincing, but she didn’t look to see.

All sounds ceased until the blast from a single gunshot broke the quiet. The sharp report and rumbling explosion fired off her senses, bringing back the fear as she ran from Oren, and the pain of a bullet piercing her stomach.

She gasped. Cal’s other hand came over hers, giving her the strength to keep her eyes closed and continue to listen.

She remembered falling at a snail’s pace, as if time had slowed. Hitting the ground and the earthy scent of the forest floor rising up to meet her. Fear raced over her that Oren would come closer and finish her off, and she’d tried to lift her phone in her hand to call for help, but couldn’t raise her arm. She’d thought she would die all alone in the woods with no one to comfort her, to find her, and she wouldn’t have the chance to say good-bye to June and her friends.

She’d been alone. All alone.

“No!” Her voice cried out on the recording, full of the panic now threatening to take her down.

She whipped her eyes open and jerked her hand free to wrap her arms around her stomach. Cal reached for the mute button on his computer, but the sound of footsteps pounding over the ground came through the speakers.

“Let it play,” she said, and soon heard Cal radio for help. Then a much quieter sound of him telling her that he was there for her, and he would get her through this.

The anguish washed away, and her heart soared at his kindness, his help. Tears that she’d held back the last few days flowed down her cheeks, and she didn’t try to stop them. “I felt so alone, but you came. Like you promised.”

He scooted his chair closer and with a gentle thumb brushed away her tears. “I know this has been hard on you, but I promise to be here for you every step of the way until this is resolved.”

She threw caution to the wind and stood to tug him to his feet. She wrapped her arms around the neck of this strapping man who’d flown in on a helicopter to save her life. He drew her close and held her tightly with one arm while cradling the back of her head with the other.

She rested her cheek on his broad chest and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his solid strength. The inky night came back again. She was lying on the ground with Cal standing above her in his tactical gear looking fierce and intimidating while at the same time anger mixed with sorrow in his gaze.

But now?

She leaned back and peered up at him. His warmth, compassion, and—dare she think—caring displayed in his expression filled her to a depth that erased all of her worries and fears of not ever getting over the shooting and being whole again. Sure, she thought the optimism was for this moment only, but she’d take the little bit that God offered right now.

Cal gently touched her cheek as if he thought she was fragile and needed to be treated with kid gloves. She smiled up at him, and he returned it with a shy, almost uneasy one of his own.

Her heart started thumping wildly. She’d really connected with him on a level far beyond anything she’d felt for a man, even Nolan, and they’d been engaged to marry.

The man holding her was no longer the fierce, powerful warrior who’d flown in on his chopper, who’d covered her body with his. He was the man to whom she owed her life, and the man who, despite his controlling tendencies, had wormed his way into her heart, and she knew clinging to him for the moment was the right thing to do.

Problem was, she didn’t know if the stress of the situation was influencing her feelings or if she really did care about him. Sure, he was attracted to her, too. But his actions now could just be him doing his job. After all, he’d said he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and she’d best remember that if she didn’t want to get hurt.