Cal punched his fist into the side of County’s command truck that they'd moved to the crime scene. He’d probably startled Brynn and Tara inside, but he didn’t care. He’d failed to arrest Keeler again, and Tara had gotten banged up.
Double fail. Triple fail if you counted his plan to have Tara safely in D.C. by now, not sitting in this truck in the Oregon boonies while he worked another bomb scene.
He looked at Tara’s pickup, now a mangled twist of metal with debris littering the road. Tara had almost lost her life, and it was all his fault.
How had he agreed to let her spend the night in the tower? Hadn’t he learned anything from losing countless women to Keeler’s bombs?
He should have forced Tara to leave the tower last night, even if he had to carry her out. But he’d let her get to him, and he’d acquiesced to her desire to make her own decision. That wouldn’t happen again. Not even if she thought him controlling and demanding.
He raised his fist again, but a redheaded deputy stepped from the command truck and fixed his focus on Cal.
Great, just what Cal needed. A pimple-faced, wet-behind-the-ears deputy giving him the stink eye. At least Max wasn’t here with a ready lecture about Cal climbing the tree.
Cal swallowed hard and turned to the suspect sitting near the truck’s front bumper. Team ballistics and hostage rescue expert Rick Cannon held his rifle on the cuffed man, his glare even more intense than Cal’s. Team negotiator Shane Erwin stood at attention at the front of the truck scanning the area for any additional threat.
Kaci had confirmed the shooter was sixty-two-year-old Lonnie Hickson. His address listed him in northeast Portland, but Kaci learned he’d been evicted. He had ground-in dirt on his hands and under his nails, and he wore a pair of jeans that were so dirty they could stand on their own. Cal believed the guy was homeless. He sure wasn’t the kind of person who would own the thousand-dollar Browning hunter rifle he’d been using.
Stepping to the man, Cal held out his phone displaying a picture of Keeler. “Is this the guy you’re working for?”
“It’s not a guy,” Hickson said, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Then who sent you?”
“A pretty little lady.”
“Explain.”
Hickson peered into the distance, his gaze losing focus. “I was minding my own business outside the Rescue Mission yesterday when a lady paid me a thousand bucks to take a ride with her and fire a few potshots at the girl.”
“Potshots as in you weren’t supposed to hit her?”
“Right. Just scare her.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a killer, man, and wouldn’t have taken her out for a thousand bucks. Or even more money.”
Cal rarely trusted suspects because most of them lied, but something in Hickson’s tone rang true. Plus, they’d found the cash in his back pocket. Cal doubted he’d legitimately come upon that much money.
“You got a cigarette?” Lonnie ran his hands over his salt-and-pepper beard that made him look more like Santa Claus than a killer.
Cal ignored the request. “So you started firing from the gate, then moved to this tree?”
“Gate? Nah, man. I’ve been here the whole time.”
Right. Maybe Cal’s belief in Hickson was misplaced. “Then who was firing at the gate?”
Hickson shrugged.
“What about the truck?” Cal asked, as Tara had said that a gunshot had hit the truck before the explosion. “You fire that shot, too?”
Hickson’s head swung side to side, his beard floating in the wind. “Surprised the heck out of me when another shooter got into the game and the truck blew.” He chuckled as if this was a game to him. “Had to hang on to a branch. Thought I was a goner for sure.”
Had there been another shooter in addition to Hickson? Maybe Keeler or this mystery woman who appeared to be working for him?
Cal took a step closer to Hickson. “Why would someone walk up to you on the street and hire you for something like this?”
“Guess she thought I was down on my luck and needed the money.” He held out an arm with a wildly colored tattoo sleeve poking out of a stained T-shirt featuring the Grateful Dead. “Maybe she saw the tat of our flag on my wrist and thought I was a vet who knew his way around a gun.” His puffy lips split in a grin, wrinkling weatherworn cheeks. “Which I am and I do.”
Hickson’s smile vanished. “I suppose you’re gonna keep the money. I coulda used it, man.” Even if this guy needed cash, he’d go away for a long time after this stunt and wouldn’t need much money.
“Describe the woman who gave you the cash,” Cal said.
“She was from one of those Middle Eastern countries but she spoke good English. Just a hint of an accent. Not that she said much. She was also wearing one of those black thingies that covered everything but her eyes, so there’s not much else I can tell you.”
“A headscarf,” Cal said, his mind already racing over the implication of this news. Either this woman was tied to Keeler and ISIS or someone wanted them to think there was a connection.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you call it, it was black, and she had on black gloves, too. Kind of freaked me out at first, but then the cash came out and…” He shrugged.
“What about other physical characteristics?”
“She was small…maybe five six. Had big brown eyes. Made me want to see what she was hiding under all that fabric if you know what I mean.” He grinned, obviously not having a clue as to the trouble he was in.
“Any idea of her age?” Cal asked, though it was unlikely that he could make an accurate assessment with her body almost fully covered.
“Like I said, she was all covered up, but she didn’t have any wrinkles by her eyes, and she moved like a younger woman.”
“What happened after she paid you?”
“She drove me out here and left. Said to find my own way back to town.” He shook his head. “Would’ve been a long hike out. ’Course maybe she didn’t think I’d be hiking out of here after a battle with guys like you.”
Cal had thought the same thing, but he didn’t acknowledge it. “What kind of car did she drive?”
“Toyota Corolla.”
One of the most popular cars in America. She likely knew that and hoped it would make her harder to track down. “Did you catch the license plates?”
“Nah, didn’t have a reason to. I did notice they were from Oregon, though.” He frowned. “Oh, and I saw a rental contract on the console.”
“Which agency?”
“I dunno, man. She got me a fifth of gin before we took off and my memory’s not so clear.”
“And the Browning? Did she give you that, too?”
“Yeah, man. Sweet gun. She said I could keep it.”
A vehicle rolled down the road, grabbing Cal’s focus. He clapped a hand on his holster. Rick came to attention, and Shane lifted his rifle.
“It’s Kaci with equipment,” Shane called out.
The rental SUV came up just short of the command truck, and Kaci hopped down.
She’d shed her tactical gear and marched across the road, her SLR already hanging around her neck on a Star Wars Chewbacca camera strap. “What’d I miss?”
Cal brought her up to speed on Hickson’s confession. “Once you’re done with the scene photos, I need you to look for this woman who supposedly paid him and drove him here.”
Kaci stared at Hickson. “Odd, isn’t it—to learn a Muslim woman is working with Keeler when he targets Muslim women for his bombs?”
Their profiler believed the necklace bombs were Keeler’s way of beheading an infidel, meaning these women must have violated the Muslim faith in some way. Unfortunately, the team had found no proof of that. All they’d discovered thus far was that the women all assimilated into the Western world, and until Tara left town, they all lived in the D.C. metro area.
“It might make more sense if we were sure why he’s targeting them in the first place,” Cal said.
Kaci frowned. “We’ve got to be missing something.”
Cal nodded. “Once we get this scene processed, we need to discuss that. But for now, start with the Rescue Mission where he claims the woman picked him up. Maybe they have outside cameras. And follow up with the rental car agencies in the area.”
“You got it.” She took the lens cap off her camera. “How soon before you’ll have the scene cordoned off, and I can get my long shots?”
“I’m done with Hickson, so Rick and I can secure things now.”
She nodded, but her attention had already gone to her camera, and she didn’t look up. Kaci was a single-folder kind of person who didn’t multitask well, so they often had to pull her focus from her electronics.
Cal stepped over to Shane. “Cuff Hickson to the truck’s push bars so you can keep an eye on him and the road at the same time.”
“Gladly.” Shane stepped over to Hickson and jerked him to his feet while Rick held his gun at the ready in case Hickson tried to bolt.
Cal went to the SUV to grab a roll of crime scene tape. He joined Rick and didn’t need to offer direction. After seven fatal explosions courtesy of Keeler, Rick knew the drill, and there was no guy better than Rick to share the job. They’d walk the area around the scene to establish a perimeter that included an entry and exit to keep contamination to a minimum from personnel arriving on scene. Along the way, they’d also look for secondary devices, unconsumed explosives, or other hazardous materials in the rubble. Cal was glad to have Rick’s help. Perfection was expected from Marine Scout Snipers, and as a former sniper, Rick had come to expect that perfection in every area of his life. He wouldn’t miss a thing.
Cal tied the end of the bright yellow tape around a tree trunk.
“You think Tara’s recollection of the truck blowing after a gunshot is accurate?” Rick asked, his smooth southern drawl controlled and clipped.
“Meaning what?” Cal asked.
“Meaning do you think the shot set off the explosion?” Rick looked up at the tree where they’d apprehended Hickson.
Cal was well versed in weaponry, but Rick served as their ballistics expert, and Cal respected his teammate’s opinion. “You look like you have a theory.”
“Just speculation, but Keeler could have used Tannerite for this bomb.”
Cal glanced at the twisted hull of Tara’s pickup. “There’s no question the truck was the seat of the explosion, but Tannerite? I don’t know. He’s never used it before.”
“He could change his MO. And with Tannerite so cheap and readily available, he wouldn’t have to hunt for a source of C-4 after arriving in Oregon.”
A binary substance made of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder used in exploding rifle targets, Tannerite was readily available both in retail stores and on the Internet, so Keeler could quite easily get his hands on an unlimited supply without raising any questions.
“Plus it only takes a high-powered bullet to ignite the bomb instead of relying on a cell or other wireless signal that could be iffy out here,” Rick continued. “And since a hypersonic shock is the only thing that sets off Tannerite, a large-caliber bullet is the fastest and easiest way to provide that shock. After a quick mix of the stuff in a storage container, he could have set it in the cab or even the truck bed.”
Cal thought about his visit to the truck. “I looked at the vehicle right before it went up. There was nothing in the cab, but Tara had a storage box in the bed. Keeler could have put it in there, I suppose.”
“Or, with all the dense vegetation in the area, he watched you until you took off and added the Tannerite after you left.”
Cal didn’t want to think Keeler could have been hunkering down in the woods today, rubbing his grubby hands together and smiling in glee while Cal had been totally unaware of him and missed the opportunity to apprehend him.
But Cal couldn’t rule out the possibility. “Hickson claims he didn’t fire at the truck, but he could be lying.”
“If Keeler placed the bomb, he could have been the shooter, too.”
“Which corroborates Hickson’s account of a second shooter. I’ll have Brynn test for Tannerite and look for the slug,” Cal said. “Even odder to me, though, is that Keeler didn’t shoot Tara when he had a chance, or detonate the bomb when she was in the truck. Why give her the chance to escape?”
“Seems like he was sending a message. Telling her that no matter who’s protecting her, he can get to her. Either to mess with her, or maybe it was a warning, telling her not to help us.”
“Then Keeler must think she knows something that will lead us to him, and we’re right on track in obtaining her help.”
“Or…” Rick paused and met Cal’s gaze. “He’s waiting until she’s alone so he can use one of his necklace bombs on her and revel in her terror.”
“Something a psychopath like Keeler would do for sure.” Cal hissed out a breath. “Not that everyone isn’t doing their best as it is, but we need to up our game on protecting Tara.”
“Agreed,” Rick said, and started forward again.
Cal continued walking next to Rick until they’d checked every inch of the area for explosives and strung the tape in a large square, leaving an opening by County’s command truck.
Back at the SUV, Cal stowed the roll of tape, and Rick grabbed equipment to draw the scene to scale. With his constant attention to the smallest of details, he was charged with measuring and sketching their crime scenes for the case files.
The deputy who’d given Cal the stink eye paced around the area. Cal didn’t like idle hands at a scene. It often led to interference and screwups.
He grabbed a worn clipboard holding the access control log and shoved it at the guy whose name tag read JON ANDREWS. “You’re in charge of access to the scene. Stand here and do not leave without my permission. The team can come and go as needed, but no one else is allowed in without my say-so. Not even your supervisor or any other County brass who might show up. Are we clear?”
“As a bell.” Instead of looking frustrated over having to perform such a mundane job, the deputy’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Cal pegged him as a rookie, and the guy would have huge bragging rights as the only deputy allowed to work the investigation today.
“Out of my way, people,” Kaci called as she peered out from behind a tripod with a boxy camera mounted on top.
“What’s that thing?” Andrews asked.
“A 3-D scanner,” Brynn said from the doorway of the truck. “It uses eye-safe laser light to scan the crime scene and create a 3-D rendering that’s uploaded to a computer. In addition to the pictures, it captures measurements so the model is scaled.”
“Cool.”
“More than cool,” Brynn added as she jumped down and lingered by the door. “It’s a great way for a DA to show the crime scene to a jury or for investigators to refresh their memory as time passes.”
“If you don’t mind,” Kaci yelled from a distance, her tone filled with sarcasm, “can you all carry on your conversation in the truck or behind it so when I turn the camera on it doesn’t catch you in the frames?”
The deputy looked up at Cal for direction, but Cal had more interest in the transport vehicle arriving to haul Hickson to Northern Oregon Regional Corrections Facility, a joint jail used by many of Oregon’s rural counties.
Cal turned to Andrews. “You can step away this time to get Hickson ready for transport, but I want you right back here when Kaci’s done filming.”
“Yes, sir.” He stepped off.
Cal turned to Brynn. “FYI, we might be looking at Tannerite instead of Keeler’s usual C-4.”
“Interesting,” she said. “You think the shooter ignited it?”
“It’s seeming like a good possibility, so once Kaci is done, I want you to focus on locating a slug in the truck debris. And, of course, I’ll need you to test for Tannerite.”
Tara came to the door of the truck. She’d sustained scrapes and bruises, and her clothes were dirty and torn. Cal wasn’t worried so much about her physical injuries, as they were minor, but her defeated look had his concerns rising. Not concerns related to the investigation, but personal ones, and he should turn and walk away, far away, but he couldn’t leave her looking so broken without trying to help.