3:10 a.m.
Cal leaned against the wall in Tara’s hospital room. Her aunt had gone home reluctantly after Cal’s solemn assurance that they’d call if Tara’s condition changed. She lay asleep in the bed, her face as pale as the bleached pillowcase. Layers of auburn hair poked out at odd angles, likely from the cap she’d worn in surgery. And yet, even in such disarray, men would find her very attractive. After all, he did, but he didn’t have the time or energy to think of her as a woman right now, only as a person who witnessed important information that could help him catch the Lone Wolf.
Oren Keeler. They now knew his name. A disappointingly plain name for a notorious bomber. Cal had spent hours during Tara’s surgery researching the man. His appearance was the only thing extraordinary about him. He had a long face, crooked nose, and buckteeth. Cal suspected women found him homely, far from the confident sort of man you’d expect to be brave enough to withstand the threat of an accidental detonation as he built his devices.
Tara stirred and moaned.
“No!” She shot upright, her eyes wild and searching. She locked gazes with him, then collapsed back.
He approached her bed.
“Do you need me to get the nurse, Tara…Ms. Parrish?” From her call and rescue, he’d come to think of her as Tara, but as a law enforcement officer, he needed to keep things professional and wait for her to suggest he call her Tara. Even then, he shouldn’t do so, as he couldn’t let her suffering distract him from his purpose.
“No, I…” She bit her lip, then took in several deep breaths and firmed her shoulders with a resolve he didn’t expect. “Unless my memories are wrong, you’re the agent I spoke to on the phone.”
“Agent Cal Riggins.” He flashed his credentials, then held out his hand.
She slipped her slender fingers into his, and he was surprised to find them warm. “I’m Tara Parrish, but then you already know that. Thank you for saving my life. If you hadn’t come when you did—”
“Let’s not go there, okay?” He smiled as much for himself as her. Three women had already lost their lives from Keeler’s bombs and Cal didn’t want to think about how close another woman had come to dying on his watch. “Are you up for answering a few questions, Ms. Parrish?”
“Tara, it’s Tara.”
“And you can call me Cal.” Now where had that come from when only a moment ago he’d vowed to keep things professional?
Her brows knitted in worry. “Do you really think Oren is the Lone Wolf? That he’s actually killing for ISIS?”
“My team and I have spent the last few hours researching him, and we’re certain he’s the Lone Wolf. Whether he’s motivated by his misguided beliefs or not has yet to be determined.”
“But all the news reports about him mention ISIS.”
“News reports can be inaccurate, but I can’t go into details.” He wished he could share more with her so she better understood the sense of urgency he had in finding Keeler, but Cal's team had just begun a comprehensive background investigation on her and would hardly share sensitive information until she was fully vetted. Maybe not even then.
They kept many investigative details private. Details like the fact that Keeler used necklace bombs and drew a skull and crossbones on the front of his devices. At first they’d thought the common symbol of death was meaningless, but the literal translation of the symbol told another story. The X shape of the skull and crossbones was often interpreted as man being wrong about the truth and therefore he died. ISIS believed that anyone who didn’t hold their beliefs should die. A perfect symbol for Keeler’s cleansing.
Tara closed her eyes and sighed. “Oren and I were once such good friends. I didn’t think anything could ever come between us.”
Had she sighed because she’d learned a friend was a bomber, or because she was still involved with Keeler and was lamenting the guy choosing to turn on her and shoot her?
It sent Cal’s gut churning to think this woman lying in front of him could be helping Keeler, but until their background check on her was complete, he had to at least consider the possibility. “Tell me more about your friendship with Keeler.”
She pressed the remote to raise her bed, her face contorting in pain as the frame groaned upward. “There’s not much to tell. I think I mentioned on the phone that we grew up next door to each other. My parents owned a farm until they died in a car crash. I was only thirteen, so I went to live with my aunt June. Oren’s family farm was located between June’s and my parents’ place.”
Cal grabbed a chair and slid it over to the bed. “But the Keelers lost that property to foreclosure about seven months ago.”
Her eyebrow lifted. “Your research, right? Did you learn anything else that I should know?”
“I’m afraid I can’t share details of my investigation.”
“I understand.” She ran a hand over her face, and he doubted that she could begin to understand the complexity of this investigation. “This is all so surreal. My friendship with Oren might have ended in junior high, but still, how could…I mean…he…I can’t believe he shot me. I just can’t.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
“Last time?” She peered up at the ceiling. “In January, I guess. At June’s place. Before that, I hadn’t seen him since his mother’s funeral. We both lost our mothers in a car crash, so I reached out to him. But he didn’t want to talk.”
“You also mentioned on the phone about his conversion to the Islamic faith. Did his family convert, too?”
“No. No.” She shook her head hard, the wayward strands of hair settling in place on her shoulders. “He did that all on his own, and his parents didn’t support the change.”
“Do you have any idea why he converted?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it was timing more than anything. Our freshman year, kids were starting to date, and I think he felt left out.” Her eyes narrowed. “I imagine by now you’ve seen a picture of him.”
Cal nodded.
“There’s not a nice way of saying it, but he’s not a good-looking man, and he wasn’t a good-looking teenager. All gangly and disproportioned. He was teased a lot, and girls didn’t find him attractive. So I think he chose a Goth lifestyle because it made him seem odd on purpose. And he changed faiths for added shock value.”
Interesting. “Did he tell you that?”
“No. Just a guess. I tried to get him to talk to me about it in high school, but he refused and became withdrawn. That’s when our friendship totally fell apart, and we barely talked to each other.”
Cal nodded and wanted to dig deeper, but he’d hold additional questions until the team had completed their preliminary research on Keeler. Then, when Cal knew the right questions to ask, he’d come back to her relationship with Keeler.
“You’re a government translator and work out of D.C.,” he stated, as their research had proved that, and he wanted to get her take on it.
She nodded. “I work for the State Department translating documents, conversations, videos. You know, that kind of stuff.”
“What language?” He hoped she didn’t claim a Middle Eastern language, potentially tying her to a terrorist cell.
“Depends on the day.”
“So you speak more than one foreign language?”
“I’m fluent in Spanish, French, and Russian.”
He almost sighed out his relief, and he hated that he didn’t want her to be involved when he was desperate for a lead on Keeler. Any lead. “How did you decide to major in languages?”
“I’ve always been good at math, so my teachers wanted me to go into a math career or IT and languages. I have no interest in IT. Math would have been okay, but as a child, I spent a lot of nights staring at the stars and dreamed of discovering what was outside my little town.” A wistful smile found her lips.
“So you want to travel. Maybe visit the countries where they speak your languages?”
“Yes, absolutely. In fact my friend Penny and I have been planning a trip to Russia now that I’m free.”
“Free?” he asked, and her open expression closed down.
“And after Oren is caught, of course,” she quickly added, her avoidance of his question raising a red flag. “So what happens next in finding him?”
“Are you up to telling me about the pump house?”
“Sure, but I can’t. I mean, for some reason, running from Oren keeps coming back. But no matter how hard I try, my time at the pump house is fuzzy.” She sighed. “Truth be told, I don’t actually want to remember the details of getting shot.”
Maybe a red flag, maybe not. “Memory loss happens in traumatic situations. Things are likely to come back in bits and pieces.”
“I’ll be sure to let you know if it does.”
“About that,” he said, and leaned forward. “I’ll stop in to see you each day to try to jog your memory. If possible, I’d also like to get your assistance in finding Keeler.”
She eyed him cautiously. “How?”
“For starters, you can share every detail you know about Keeler with my team. And we can also put you in situations that could help bring back your memories.”
“I suppose I could.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Maybe…I guess, anyway. This is all new to me. I’ve never been involved in anything like this, and…” She shook her head. “How long will it take to come to grips with Oren being a bomber? A killer…women…he kills women, and he shot me. Tried to kill me, too. I mean…” Tears flooded her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
He reached out to take her hand, then snapped his back before he made this personal. “It’s hard to comprehend something like this.”
“Maybe Oren didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, he meant it, all right. He didn’t accidentally chase you through the woods and fire a gun at you.”
“You’re right, I suppose.” She nipped at her lower lip.
“Look, Tara,” he said, putting force into his tone to get her full attention. “I get that this is hard to handle, but you can’t doubt Keeler’s intentions. He wanted you to die, and the worst thing you can do for your safety right now is underestimate him. You need to remember that he’s a dangerous man. So dangerous that while you’re in the hospital, I’ll have an agent outside your door at all times. In fact, Agent Fields is already standing duty in the hallway.”
“He’s out there now?” She shot a look at the window. “Because you think Oren will try to kill me again?”
Cal nodded, but at her anguished expression he wished he hadn’t had to admit his concerns.
“But how can he…he was…we were friends. Good friends once. This’s crazy. My life. It was good. Now this. How will I ever get back to normal? Will I get back to normal?”
“Not until Keeler is caught.”
“But, he…” She shrugged and started crying softly.
She still didn’t believe Keeler was a serial killer, and Cal couldn’t risk her underestimating Keeler or she could wind up dead, too. Cal wouldn’t lose another woman on his watch. He firmed his resolve to keep this woman’s pain from distracting him.
“I’ll be here for you, Tara,” he said, meaning watching over her, not helping her deal with her emotional trauma. “Like I was with the helicopter. We’ll all keep you safe. Are you willing to help me?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he replied. “Because we only have a few days until the first of the month, when Keeler is sure to detonate another bomb.”
* * *
4:30 a.m.
Darkness cloaked Tara’s room when she drifted out of sleep. The nurse had come in as Cal was leaving and given her something through her IV. She didn’t remember anything since. How long had she slept?
She rubbed her eyes and raised the bed. Movement in the window overlooking the hallway grabbed her attention. Groggy from the pain meds, she concentrated until a man standing on the far side of the hall became clear. He stepped closer.
Had Agent Riggins come back, or was it Agent Fields?
She blinked hard and squinted until the guy came into focus.
No. Oh, no.
Oren. It was Oren. There in the hallway, standing less than twenty feet away. A sneer on his face. A challenge in his eyes.
“You’re dead,” he mouthed, and slashed a hand across his throat before disappearing down the hall.
Panic curled through her body. Help. She needed help. She tried to get up. To call out, but the tiniest of movements sent the room spinning. Nausea followed, curling into her stomach and leaving it roiling. She closed her eyes and tried hard to move past the undulating waves of dizziness to think.
Oh, God, please. What should I do?
Agent Riggins. She needed him here by her side, but where had he gone?
He’d promised to be there for her, but he’d disappeared. Left her alone to fend for herself. Let Oren get to her. He’d probably gone back to his job, his office, having forgotten all about her.
“Help,” she finally got out.
She waited for a response from anyone.
She cried out again.
Nothing. No one.
Where was this Agent Fields? Why wasn’t he coming to her aid, or even challenging Oren?
She peered at the window. Reality hit, settling in and stealing her breath.
She was alone. All alone and vulnerable.
If Oren could step into the hospital and come this close to her, he could certainly locate her D.C. row house and pounce.
She’d be a sitting duck. Exposed.
Her brain cleared for a moment and it hit her then. Hard.
She wasn’t safe. Not here. Not anywhere. Not as long as Oren ran free.