Tara approached the burned-out shell of the pump house and stopped at the fringe of the exploded mess. Her knees were weak and her palms coated in perspiration. If she wanted to remember anything, she had to get closer, but she couldn’t get her feet moving forward. She slid her fingers under the thickest rubber band on her wrist and snapped. Once. Twice. A third time, but her heart continued to trip along at an alarming rate.
Cal walked up to her, confidence in his steps. He didn’t speak or touch her, but having him at her side gave her the courage to move. She scrubbed her palms down her jeans and took the final steps into the ruins.
An acrid smell lingered in the air and charred fragments of wood lay on the ground. If she hadn’t called Cal that night, would she have died in an explosion? Or would Oren have simply shot her and hauled off her body? Simply, right. There was nothing simple about a gunshot. She’d experienced that firsthand.
She took a few more steps and tried to remember June’s potting bench, but the sight of the cameo wouldn’t leave her brain. Cal hadn’t explained the meaning behind the skull and crossbones, but with the inscription on the back of the necklace, she believed Oren had wanted her dead even before the pump house incident. Or perhaps, in his sick, twisted mind he thought if he gave her the necklace, her feelings for him would change, and she’d join his crazy world.
She slid a finger under the rubber band again.
Cal gently took her hand and pulled her fingers free. “I know this is hard.”
His voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket, but what touched her even more than his reassurance was his willingness to ignore his need for the same professionalism he’d mentioned in the car and hold her hand in front of his teammates standing guard at the perimeter.
She looked up at him and memorized every plane, every angle of his face and the compassion shining from his eyes. The coldness in her heart evaporated, and with him standing nearby, if she remembered the details of the night Oren had tried to kill her, the memories wouldn’t do irreparable harm.
She touched Cal’s cheek, a light whisper of her fingers, then lowered her hand. “Thank you again for saving me in the woods that night.”
He squeezed her hand. Dark anger, likely over Keeler’s crazy behavior, flashed in his eyes but vanished with a blink. “Why not remember the good times you’ve had on the farm? I’ve seen how much you love your aunt. You light up when you talk about growing up here. Don’t let Keeler take that away from you.”
Cal was right. She had a choice. She could listen to her emotions and let them color her attitude, or remember that feelings weren’t facts and didn’t convey truth. They were just feelings, and she could control them if she put her mind to it.
She extricated her hand and stepped deeper into the blackened wood. Ash filtered up and swirled around her feet like a living, breathing thing. Raucous sounds of scrub jays crying out in the trees mimicked her internal cry for help. She ignored it. Ignored the birds. Ignored her fear of Oren and closed her eyes.
She thought to pray, but she didn’t deserve the help. And yet she wanted it badly. She’d missed casting her cares on God. Had she been wrong in running and counting on herself alone? Maybe if she had stayed and asked for His help, all of this would be over already and three women would be alive.
Was she responsible for the additional women, her friends, losing their lives, or should she believe Cal and Shane when they said Keeler was the only responsible party here? Her fear fluttered away and guilt settled in, but she wouldn’t let it stop her. She’d use her remorse to drive her need to remember.
“You can do it, Tara,” Cal called out again.
She could. Yes, she could. She tried to pull up an image of Oren. Not the fun memories of growing up, but the expression that haunted her nightmares. As Shane had said, the boy of her youth was gone and she had to recall the man capable of shooting her and killing defenseless women.
Suddenly, the terrifying look he’d fired at her after she’d hit him with the board came back in vivid color. She’d slammed the heavy wooden plank against his chest. As he’d fallen, he’d caught her gaze, anger and hatred spewing from his eyes, but she’d ignored him, run hard and fast, turning to look back only one time. He’d gotten to his feet and chased her, a gun in his hand.
The sound of the gunshot on the audio returned. Her breath locked in her chest, and her throat seemed to swell and close. She gasped for air, wanting to run now, too—flee—as she’d done that evening, but that’s what Oren would want. Cal was right. She couldn’t let Oren win.
You’re there, right, God? You’re with me?
For the first time in ages, she felt His presence and the peace that accompanied it. She pulled back her shoulders and let the sights and sounds of the night come racing back. In her mind’s eye, she touched the bricks of explosives, ran her fingers over the slick plastic wrap. She shifted her gaze farther down the table and spotted drawings.
Yes! Drawings made by Oren of the bombs. Before he’d arrived, she’d studied them. She mentally flipped the pages to find various views he’d sketched of the exterior of his necklace-shaped bombs, much like the one Cal had shown her. But these sketches had a skull and crossbones added to the front of the bombs.
No, oh, no.
The cameo necklace was connected to the bombs, and with her name engraved on the back, she was even more connected, too.
“The necklace in June’s house…his bombs,” she called out to Cal. “He uses the skull and crossbones as a symbol on the front.”
“I know,” Cal replied, far too calmly for just having learned of it.
She opened her eyes and shot a look at him. “You knew that already?”
Nodding, he strode across the space, his boots kicking up the ash.
It should hurt that he hadn’t shared this with her, but she understood his reasons for keeping parts of the investigation a secret. “Do you think he’s visualizing his mother’s necklace when he sets off these bombs?”
“It fits his profile.”
“But why a skull and crossbones? I don’t get the relationship to his cause.”
“We think he’s taking a literal translation of the symbol.” Cal met her gaze and held it. “The skull rests on bones that resemble an X, which in our culture can symbolize being wrong. The skull indicates death. Add them together, and it can be interpreted as man is wrong about the truth and therefore he dies. We think Keeler takes this view, as it fits with ISIS’s theology that anyone who doesn’t hold their beliefs should die.”
“With the symbol on the necklace and my name on the back, this is further confirmation that he thinks I should die.” Feeling like she might pass out or be sick, she pressed her hand over her mouth. The need to run came flooding back, to be anywhere but at this scene of destruction that resembled the scenes where so many women had lost their lives.
“Look at me,” Cal commanded. “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”
His calming voice helped, but more than that, him calling her honey sliced through her panic. Until the memory of Oren calling her honey replaced the thought.
“He called me honey, too. That night when he asked me out, and then…then months later, this is how he responds?” She gestured at the ruins, and a collage of images from the night flashed through her mind.
Red-hot anger replaced her anxiety. She’d been too afraid or consumed with staying alive the last few months to let her anger loose.
“He deserves the same fate that he’s meting out.” The words came flying out before she could filter them. “To know the same fear.”
“But he never will,” Cal said. “He’ll spend his life behind bars instead.”
She turned to look at Cal. “Forget that I said that. No one deserves such horrific treatment. Not even Oren.”
“Which is why we have to find him now before he strikes again.”
“Yes, and I’ll try my best to remember everything I can.” She closed her eyes again to mentally return to the table. She continued flipping through pages in the binder. On the back cover, she found laminated yellow notepaper holding a list written in Oren’s neat, square printing. He’d scratched the numbers one through ten and behind them listed women’s names in bold print.
She remembered running her finger down the list. She strained to remember each and every name, but could recall only the first one.
She opened her eyes, so very glad to be back in the present. Glad to see Cal by her side.
“He had a list of women’s names,” she said. “Ten of them. I think the first three were women he’d killed. At least they were names I remember hearing on TV. I remember thinking the next seven were the women he’d target next, but I didn’t have time to really look at them before he came back.” Tara twisted her hands together. “If only I’d thought to grab the binder and take it with me when I ran.”
“You were terrified for your life.”
“Still, I wish I’d thought of it.”
“With Keeler’s change in focus to you, these women might not be in danger right now anyway. Or Keeler might think you gave us the names, and he could have moved on.”
“Do you think so?”
He nodded. “Would you like more time here?”
“Maybe a few more minutes. Just in case.”
She closed her eyes and put her mind to the task, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to remember anything to help, she opened them and suggested they leave.
As they drove away, Tara expected Cal and the team to rush back to FBI headquarters to continue working on the investigation, but instead, he lowered his car window and motioned for Kaci to join him near the car.
“Tara remembered that Keeler had a list of ten names,” Cal said. “Likely his first three victims and seven new names.”
“I don’t suppose knowing there’s a list will give you anything to go on?” Tara asked.
“It does confirm that he’s planning more bombs, specifically three of them.” Kaci leaned down to the window. “Not news any of us wants to hear, but it’s true.”
“And you can’t do anything?” Tara asked.
“Barring finding a connection between Keeler and the Muslim community, we have nowhere to go.”
“Let’s bring the team together at the safe house and hash it out again,” Cal suggested. “Maybe we’ll see something we’ve missed.”
Kaci nodded. “I’ll let the others know.”
She and Cal stopped at the main house to say good-bye to June, and by the time they reached the safe house, everyone except Max had gathered in the living room.
Shane and Rick sat in leather chairs, and Brynn and Kaci on the plump sofa. They were deep in discussion but immediately quieted when Tara and Cal entered the room. Cal gestured for her to have a seat on the sofa, and he leaned against the wall as he brought them up to date on their day.
“I hope you can process the necklace for me.” He handed Brynn the evidence envelope containing the necklace. “And could you follow up with jewelers in the area? We might get lucky and find the one who updated the necklace.”
“Sure.” A no-nonsense expression lodged on Brynn’s face as she turned her attention to Tara. “We’ve been talking. Now that you were able to recall more of the night at the pump house, we’d like you to try it again, here, with us.”
“You what?” Cal asked.
Shane sat forward and ignored Cal’s question to focus on Tara. “We believe if we guide you through the visit in a nonthreatening place, that you might remember even more.”
“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Cal’s words came out in a clipped tone.
Tara really didn’t want to think about the pump house again, but she desperately wanted Oren caught before he killed another woman. Besides, they had a good point. Perhaps she’d let her fear from the night keep her from remembering things at the pump house.
“If you all think it will help, I’m glad to do it,” Tara offered. “Where do I start?”
Shane smiled at her, his expression kind. “From the minute you arrived at the pump house.”
She rested her head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. She forced herself to relax. In her mind, she called up the walk down to the pump house. She felt the coolness of the night and forced her mind ahead to the door. She pressed her hand on the cold handle, and a flash of memory played in her eyes as she flung open the door.
Her breathing intensified, but she tried to slow it.
“What are you seeing?” Shane asked. “Feeling?”
“At first, I was mad that the ancient pump was acting up. But when I saw June’s old potting table in the middle of the room, thoughts of starting seeds with her for the vegetable garden made me smile.”
She felt her lips turning up now. “Then I saw a pile of white PVC pipe on the table and was confused. My first thought was that someone was planning to fix the pump.” She shook her head. “Until I noticed the large quantity of pipe, and that it had been assembled in an odd configuration. I was just plain baffled, and I stepped over to the table. The wind caught the door and banged it shut, blocking out the exterior light, so I pulled on the string hanging above the table.”
“So you’re in the small building, the light burning bright,” Shane said, his tone captivating, as if he were in the shed with her. “What did you do next?”
She saw herself in an out-of-body kind of experience moving across the room, the PVC inches from her hands. She reached out. Stopped. “Before I could get to the pipe, I saw a stack of white bricks wrapped in cellophane. I had no idea what they were, but there was a warning label on the box.” She ran her gaze over the warning and gasped. “I read it and jumped back to think. I then remembered seeing such explosives in documents I translated for the State Department, and I panicked. Explosives. What were they doing in the pump house?” She got lost in the memories. Breathing became difficult, and she shot a look around the room.
“And then?” Shane asked, his voice comforting and quieting some of her anxiety.
She forced herself to keep going. “I looked at the rest of the room. The shelves along the wall held discarded gardening and farm items, but on the end of the bench, I saw a three-ring binder. It’s black and thick. Three inches. It’s open, and I walk up to it. That’s where I saw that list of names. I know, right there in the blink of an eye, that the women listed first are the ones who died at the hands of the Lone Wolf Bomber.”
“How?” Shane asked. “How did you know these were the women who died?”
“I’d seen their names, their faces, on the news.” Tears pricked at her eyes, and she swiped them away. “I asked myself what the Lone Wolf’s things were doing there. I stared at the list to find an answer and noticed the square little letters printed on the yellow paper. Realization hit me. Oren. This is Oren’s handwriting. He’s the Lone Wolf. Oren is the bomber.” She shuddered.
“What else is in the binder?” Shane asked, his voice encouraging yet urgent.
The scene became real to her. The night. The cool breeze blowing through the open window, ruffling the edges of paper under the pipe. She moved the piping. “Maps! There are maps with big red Xs on them. All in the metro D.C. area. I can’t stop staring at them. What do they mean? Are they the locations of the exploded bombs or of the future bombs?” She sat up and peered at Cal. “Do you think the Xs point to where Oren plans to kill the other women?”
He nodded, his eyes alight with the potential lead. “If I get a map of the area, can you remember the location of the Xs well enough to mark them for us?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have much time.” She thought back to the map. “Maybe seeing an actual map will jog my memory more.”
“We could print one from the Internet,” Shane offered.
“I have a portable printer with my computer in the car.” Brynn jumped to her feet. “I’ll grab it.”
“Make it quick,” Cal said.
She nodded and hurried out the door.
Tara’s temples started pounding. She rubbed the tender skin above her ears and stifled a groan.
Cal eyed her. “I think this is enough of struggling to remember for now.”
Tara nodded, glad to have a break. She sat back and waited for Brynn to return with the computer and printer. When she did, she set them up on the dining table.
“One more thing,” Rick spoke for the first time. “We now have a good idea of the pump house items thanks to you, and you’ve given us a better understanding of the things in the house Keeler was renting. Do you know of any other places where he might hide supplies or sketches, that sort of thing?”
She thought back to their time together and one idea came to mind, but she dismissed it right away.
Rick eyed her, his intense stare digging deep. “You thought of something.”
Her idea was so far-fetched that she didn’t want to share, but she doubted Rick would give up until she did. “It’s a real long shot.”
“Tell us anyway,” he demanded.
Cal glared at Rick, his protector mode obvious in his expression and his sudden rigid posture.
Tara held up a hand to tell him she was okay. “When Oren and I were kids, we played in his family’s barn. He had a hiding place in the wall in the haymow. We kept things there that we didn’t want our parents to know about.”
“Do you think he could have continued to use the hiding spot?” Rick asked.
She shrugged and was vaguely aware of Brynn’s printer whirring in the background.
Shane sat forward. “Keeler likes to keep things. Hide them. That we know from the items you identified today. The more we see of him, the more I’m convinced he’s trapped in his past. I wouldn’t be surprised if he used this secret hiding place up until the day you discovered the pump house and gave us his identity.”
“I’ll have Max contact the new owners to get permission to visit the barn as soon as possible.” Cal planted his feet and cast an apologetic look at Tara. “Are you up for that?”
“How soon?” Tara worked hard to hide her hesitancy to visit another spot she associated with Oren, especially another visit today.
“I’ll push for first thing in the morning.”
She nodded her agreement, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t dread the visit and what they might discover.
What if they found something that exacerbated this horrible, horrible nightmare? How would she handle more bad news?
She’d deal with it, that’s what. Like she’d learned to handle whatever was thrown at her since the night at the pump house. But it wouldn’t hurt to have God on her side.
She recalled the earlier sense of peace and let it settle in as the group continued to chat. Had God been there all along for her, and she’d let her fear keep her from sensing His guiding presence?
Brynn charged into the room with several pieces of paper and a roll of tape. “I enlarged the map so you can see the roads. Just let me tape the pages together first.”
Brynn knelt at the coffee table and set to work. The tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, and she looked far more relaxed than normal. When she’d finished connecting six sheets of paper, she turned them over and dug a red marker from her pocket.
“I thought it might help if you used red to do this.” A shy smile on her face, she handed the marker to Tara.
Tara finally got that Brynn wasn’t standoffish; she was shy. Maybe socially awkward. Tara smiled her thanks and received a swift nod of acknowledgment in return.
Tara bent over the map and closed her eyes. She willed her mind back to the pump house and the maps. “There were ten Xs. I remember thinking they went with the ten names, but I knew I’d never remember all of the addresses. So I figured the first three went with the women he’d already killed and focused on the last—that’s it! I came up with a mnemonic for two of them like I did when I was learning foreign languages and couldn’t remember certain words.”
“What exactly do you mean?” Rick asked.
“You know, like the old ‘thirty days hath September’ rhyme many people know for remembering the number of days in each calendar month.”
“So what did you come up with?”
“Lone Wolf.” She shifted the map and tapped on L Street. “L Street NE for the L and NE in Lone. The word ‘lone’ has four letters and the cross street is Fourth.” She looked up, expecting to see that the team was impressed with her mnemonic. She received skeptical looks instead.
“Not that I doubt your abilities,” Rick said, his hesitant tone in direct contrast to his statement, “but you were terrified for your life, and you managed to create something like that?”
“First, I saw this before I heard Oren come home. Second, after using this memory system to learn three new languages, the process is second nature to me.”
“Okay, say you’re remembering this right,” Rick said. “We only have cross streets.”
“Oren’s map had buildings on it like you see when you zoom into Google Maps. If I have a map like that, I might be able to find the exact house.”
Brynn jumped to her feet. “I’ll print one out.”
“You said you remember two locations.”
She nodded. “The second one is W Street and Flagler. You know…the W and F from ‘wolf.’”
“These aren’t addresses from earlier bombs and could be the break we need in the investigation,” Rick said.
“Great work, Tara,” Cal said.
“Agreed,” Shane added. “You really came through for us.”
She felt herself beaming under the compliments, but she couldn’t pat herself on the back. “I haven’t found the actual houses yet, and there are still more names and addresses on his list.”
Brynn returned with the detailed map. “I zoomed in on and printed both intersections.”
Tara stared at the square boxes of connected homes. She was familiar with the area of row houses that D.C. was so famous for. She located the exact location of the first home and drew an X on it, but the other one failed her. “That’s all I can do. Sorry.”
“No worries,” Rick said. “We can review property records for the area and even go door-to-door if we have to.”
Tara sat back. A good thing she did, as the others scrambled to peer at the X.
“I’ll call out the address,” Cal said. “Who wants to look it up?”
“I will,” Shane volunteered.
“And I’ll take notes on what we discover.” Kaci took out a notepad.
Tara watched and listened as they worked.
Cal leaned back on his haunches. “We can provide protection for the women at this address, and I’ll arrange agents to stake out the house.”
“You don’t want to have the team do it?” Tara asked.
Cal shook his head. “With Keeler going off his plan and targeting people connected to you, we don’t even know if he’s going to go through with these bombs, so I’d rather spend our resources that way.”
“Plus, even if he does,” Shane said, “he may not do so until the first of next month.”
“And,” Cal added, “by protecting these women, we’ll have foiled Keeler’s plans anyway.”
Kaci snapped a picture of the maps. “I’ll get my team doing a deep background check on any women associated with this address. Maybe we’ll luck up and see a connection between them and the other victims.”
“I can also use the information to flesh out Keeler’s profile,” Shane offered.
Cal nodded. “Thanks, everyone, for your hard work.”
“So maybe our idea to help Tara remember was a good one, then.” Shane grinned.
“Okay, fine.” Cal punched Shane in the arm. “I admit it. You guys occasionally have a good idea.”
They groaned in unison, and after they said good-bye to Tara, Cal walked them to the door. Exhausted, Tara remained seated.
He locked the dead bolt behind them and came to sit with her on the sofa.
“So what’s next?” she asked.
He grabbed his laptop from the table and set it on his knees. “I’m going to look up the contact information for the new owners of Keeler’s family farm and schedule that visit.”
“Right, the visit to the barn.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go, but I promise I’ll be with you.” He squeezed her hand.
She gazed into his eyes. “I appreciate you being here for me more than you can know.” She chewed on her lip for a moment to phrase her next words properly and not hurt him. “But I’m starting to depend on you, Cal, and that’s not a good thing for either one of us.”