Page 11 of Fatal Mistake
“She obviously hasn’t figured out that the explosions in cities where she’s recently lived means Keeler’s tracking her,” Max said. “I’d like to think if she knew Keeler was targeting her, she’d be smart enough come in.”
“I don’t know, man. She clearly doesn’t trust us.” Trust me. Cal tightened his fingers. “We have to find her before he does, though. Besides, I’m still convinced she’s the only one who can help us track him down.”
“We are going to get him, you know. With Tara or without her.” Max made strong eye contact. “If you don’t tuck tail and run away like the big baby you were acting like a minute ago. Throwing a tantrum.”
“I’m not running,” Cal said, ignoring the tantrum comment.
“Tell you what,” Max said. “Let’s get out of here and let Brynn do her thing with the forensics. We’ll gather the rest of the team and go back to the hotel. Then we’ll run the investigation one more time with fresh eyes.”
Cal turned to look at forensic expert Brynn Young squatting near the burned-out car. Cal had been a part of a team since he joined the navy at eighteen, and he liked working in that capacity even now. Each of them came together to intervene in a critical situation, to use their strengths to bring order to chaos, and to apply their unique skills in an investigative capacity. His teammates were more than capable, and he could leave any one of them to handle this scene today, but as lead case agent, he wasn’t going anywhere.
He faced Max. “We’ll see how things go. I have witness statements to take—”
“No,” Max snapped. “This is a direct order.”
Max set his mouth in a hard line and pulled back wide shoulders built from hours in a gym. His military-perfect posture was born from ten years as an Army Ranger. Still, bleeding military or not, he never ordered them to do anything—never—proving his stress level now, too. The powers that be, all the way up to the president, were pressuring him to bring in the Lone Wolf.
Or maybe since Max handled pressure better than most, he was using reverse psychology that often worked on the team. They weren’t three-year-olds, but tell them something couldn’t be done, and with most of them former military spec ops personnel, they’d prove him wrong. No matter what it took, even if it meant bending the rules to get the job done.
“A direct order, huh?” Cal cracked a smile, likely Max’s goal. “In other words, you don’t want me to do it.”
“Nah.” Max scowled. “I want you to take a break, but I needed to shake you up to get you to comply.”
Cal stared at Max. “I need a few more minutes here first.”
Max arched a brow.
“If you want me to step away for a while, give me a few minutes with Brynn to get up to speed on forensics and to talk with the eyewitnesses. It’ll help with our briefing, too.”
“Fine. Take thirty, but then we’re out of here.” Max eyed him. “Keep that temper in check.”
Max marched across the road to the mobile command truck rolled in by County five minutes before the Knights had arrived. Cal and the team had gotten the bombing call at 1200 hours. The Knights were already in Dallas tracking Tara, so they’d arrived on scene quickly and had taken charge. County transported the body, took preliminary statements from eyewitnesses, and set up the church down the street for the grieving family.
Cal hadn’t been over there yet, but after the briefing he’d give his condolences to each and every person. He’d have to question them, too, a particularly nasty thing to do in their grief, but a career in law enforcement often meant having the emotional courage to do the right thing. He’d do his job no matter how much it hurt. Max could count on that.
Cal picked his way through the debris to Brynn. She wore a white Tyvek suit over her team uniform as she sifted through the wreckage, pausing every so often to place a numbered marker next to crucial evidence.
She looked up, every strand of chin-length blond hair in place as usual. “Looks like a necklace bomb. His signature device.”
Cal nodded and ran his gaze over the debris field. “With the air pushed outward in a blast and sucking everything back into the vacuum it creates, the components for this device are nearby. I want you to find every piece down to the tiniest of fragments.”
Brynn frowned. “He’s packing a ton of C-4 into these devices, and there won’t be many intact pieces for your study.”
“True, but each blast gives me more. Assuming, of course, Keeler doesn’t change the device’s blueprint.” Cal thought of the fragments from the last bomb in D.C. He may have reconstructed it, but Keeler’s near degree in electrical engineering had given him the knowledge to build complicated bombs, and Cal couldn’t be certain they hadn’t missed vital switches, leaving him unable to render safe one of Keeler’s bombs.
“So what’s your take on the C-4?” Brynn asked. “Outside of military operations it’s so hard to come by that you’d think we’d have figured out where he’s getting it by now.”
“Most every Tom, Dick, and Harry who’ve worked military demo has unopened packs from training in a small stockpile in their garage. With Keeler’s army days, he’s bound to know a few guys.”
“A few guys?” Brynn planted gloved hands on her hips. “With the quantity he’s coming up with, he has to know Tom, Dick, and Harry.” She shook her head in disgust and gestured at the FBI’s local three-person Evidence Response Team. “I should get back to it. These guys will likely screw things up if I don’t watch their every move.”
She stepped off, making a beeline for the group of techs who lingered outside a small rental truck serving as a temporary evidence locker. Brynn would supervise the work and make sure they marked each piece of evidence with a number, recorded the details in the official logbook, and took copious photographs before properly packaging and shipping the evidence back to the FBI’s only lab in Quantico, Virginia. Cal wished they weren’t breaking for Max’s meeting, as they already had a long night ahead of them in reviewing the evidence to determine the most probative leads, but it couldn’t be helped.
On his way to the detective who’d taken witness names, Cal spotted the Knights’ cyber expert, Kaci North, frantically waving at him from behind fluttering yellow tape cordoning off the scene. Her whole body vibrated with anticipation like she wanted to hurdle the barriers to get to him. She wouldn’t, though. She might be their computer expert, but she knew better than to unnecessarily enter a scene and potentially contaminate the area.
Cal made his way over to her, ignoring the callouts from reporters pleading for details. When he reached her, a self-satisfied smile settled on her lips.
“I found her.” She pushed large black glasses up the bridge of her nose to stare at him.
