Chapter Ten

Brett leaned in the doorway of the ‘safe house’ room where Jacie lay with her eyes still heavy with sleep. They’d been stuck somewhere that resembled prison cells more than bedrooms.

She smiled. “Good morning.”

She looked so beautiful lying there, her eyes swollen from sleep, her short cap of white curls a mess. He gave serious consideration to telling her good morning in a more personal way when a door at the end of the hall swung open. Two men came striding toward him. Brett had to stifle a groan at the sight of them. Time for more interrogation.

Jacie shoved the covers off and stood in her police issue sweat suit. Brett straightened from the door frame and his back muscles all but rebelled. His neck objected sharply when he flexed it, and he remembered the cut on the back of his head. He hadn’t paid much attention last night, but this morning he found aches and pains all over from being in an explosion. The FBI questioned them half the night, then they’d been shown to these ‘rooms’ and been alloted a few minutes in a tepid shower. The doors hadn’t been locked, but a guard had stood sentry most of the night.

Not every second, though, Brett had found out.

They were both wearing black sweat suits with LPPD in huge yellow letters across the front of the sweat shirt and the same monogram down one leg of the pants.

Jacie said, “Lead me to a shower and some breakfast before you start grilling me again, please?”

Since Brett had already showered, and this time he’d gotten the last of the smoke out of his hair, he followed the agents out of the room. Jacie joined them in five minutes. Both FBI agents wore dark suits and wing tips just like last night. Jacie sat next to Brett at the lunchroom style table where they’d been questioned last night. Breakfast was cold cereal and coffee. Brett felt as if they were facing off against adversaries.

Brett asked, “Do you have more questions?”

“Not exactly.” The shorter of the two agents, Womack, said. “We didn’t come to ask more questions, we came to move you.”

Brett’s stomach twisted. His hand tightened on Jacie’s arm. “That can only mean one thing. This place isn’t safe.”

“He killed Lyle Ruffing early this morning,” Kaplan said. “We thought we had an impenetrable net thrown over Ruffing. Our bomber walked in and blew him away. We found the same detonator. It’s him. Ruffing was in Austin. The bomber, assuming he was the one shooting at you in Oaken last night, had to fly. There’s time, just barely, for it to be the work of one man. Those detonators are like a fingerprint. And something this unique isn’t being sold to the highest bidder. He’s doing it himself. We’re checking the flights, commercial and private. He may go on to O’Donnell, the last engineer on that team. We’re increasing his security right now. The assassin missed you and headed to Austin, so maybe he’s given up. Or maybe not. We want you in a more secure place.”

“More secure than a bunker?” Brett had to ask. “Is there such a thing?”

Jacie patted his hand.

Womack shoved his hands in his pockets and started jingling coins. Brett could hear the dull metallic clinking from across the room. Brett remembered Womack doing that constantly last night. Womack clinked, and said with mild contempt, which Brett figured he deserved for whining. “Sure there is.”

Jacie said, “I’ll need some more clothes. Can we stop by my place?”

Kaplan said, “No.”

Brett happened to glance at the back of his hand and saw four bloody slashes. He’d completely forgotten Siam. The cat had saved his life and Brett had repaid him by leaving him to the coyotes. Brett said, “I just remembered, I’ve got to go home and get my cat.”

Womack said, “No.”

“At least let me phone a neighbor to go get the cat.”

“No.” Kaplan never lost his cool. He was as urbane and suave as Womack was abrupt and nervous. “If our bomber heads directly back, if everything is optimum, he could be in the Long Pine area by noon. We want you out of the city by then.”

“Out of the city?” Brett thought that was sufficiently vague. “Where ‘out of the city?’”

Kaplan, sharp-eyed and aloof watched them.

“You don’t need to know.” Womack jingled change and moved restlessly.

There wasn’t much Brett hated more than ‘you don’t need to know’.

Brett quit wasting time asking questions and focused on what needed doing. Coyotes ate cats for lunch. And he wasn’t going to repay Siam’s heroism with neglect, just to give himself a little bigger cushion of safety.

“What do we need to do, to get ready to leave?” Brett was hoping Jacie had some morning routine to see to, because he needed some time to plan.

“Nothing, just wait here. We’ll come and get you before noon.” Womack led the way out of the room.

“I want to work out.” Jacie arched her shoulders. “I’m still stiff all over.”

Brett had a flashback to her incredible exercise regimen. He swallowed hard and tried to picture Siam being an hors de oeuvres for some mountain predator. He liked the cat, sure. And Siam had saved his life. Still, Brett’s dedication to saving Siam wasn’t a sure thing. Not when Jacie was exercising.

“I’m going back to my room. Come find me when they’re ready to pull out.”

He had a fight on his hands but he let her go.
Once he was alone, things fell into place. He knew it wouldn’t be that hard to escape because it would never occur to the FBI that two people targeted by a highly skilled, apparently insane assassin would try to escape police protection. He didn’t think Jacie would be so easy to evade though. He wasn’t going to ditch her, although that would be safest for her. She was too smart. Anyway, he didn’t want to be separated from her. He thought of kissing her last night, by the flat tire.

Not a romantic setting, except for the kiss. But she’d gone along with the kiss enthusiastically.

It gave him hope that she might be falling in love with him.