Page 42 of Fatal Mistake
* * *
Wondering how to help Tara, Cal watched her. Swirls of dirt covered her clothes and a few blades of grass clung to her hair. She’d pulled it into a ponytail that morning, but the force of the truck blast had freed sections, leaving them sticking out like porcupine quills.
All he could think to do to help her handle yet another blow was reach out to pluck the grass from her hair.
“I’m not sure that will help much, but thanks.” She peered at him, tears rolling down her cheeks before she turned away and he saw her shoulders shaking.
It was about time she actually cried and not just those few tears at the hospital. She’d continued to exhibit incredible strength, too much, if you asked him. If she kept burying her emotions, the dam would eventually burst. Maybe at the wrong time, wrong place, and she could get hurt. She needed to let go and have a good cry now.
And what about you?
Okay, fine, there was no way he was ever going to sit down and cry like a little girl, but he could take his own advice and find a way to alleviate some of his stress.
Prayer. The thought came unbidden.
It hadn’t helped in the past, so he shrugged it off.
But why did you call out for God’s help when you thought Tara was in danger?
Old habit. Just an old habit. He dismissed the idea to focus on Tara.
Her crying snapped his tight rein on keeping a professional distance, and he took her hand. She shot him a surprised look but didn’t withdraw. Tears continued to trail down her cheeks, leaving a clean path through the dirt. He lifted his free hand to swipe them away, but touching her so intimately wasn’t a good idea on so many levels that he didn’t know which reason topped the list, so he held back.
“So what happens next?” She looked down at their hands as if she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“The team finishes processing the scene and prepares the evidence to ship to the FBI lab in Quantico. We’ll all hop a plane, and when we get back to D.C., we’ll debrief and make a plan while Brynn and her team pore over the evidence.”
“And then you’ll take me to the pump house.” She went quiet for a few moments and raised his hand to stare at it. “What happened to your knuckles?”
Two knuckles sustained second-degree burns and had blistered, but today when he’d punched the truck they’d broken open to expose raw, red skin. “An on-the-job injury.”
“They were burned. A bomb?” Her head shot up. “These are fresh. Another bomb. Dallas, right? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you had enough on your plate right now.”
She pulled her hand back and sat up straight. “Don’t do that. Don’t spare me. If I’m going to help find Oren, I need details of his actions. Even if it hurts, I want you to tell me about Dallas.”
“Why don’t we hold off until later? You can take a shower and unwind from the day. If you still want to know more after that, I’ll share every piece of information within your clearance level.”
She stared at him long and hard. “You want to catch Oren, right? Desperately, I mean. I see it in your eyes. In the way you put this manhunt before everything else. You should be happy that I want to know more to help.”
She was the second person to comment on his drive to find Keeler in the last few hours, and they were both right. He was pushing things, but at what cost to himself, the team, and even Tara?
“The bomb,” she said. “The woman in Dallas. I know her, right?”
Cal nodded. “Allison Foster.”
The blue of Tara’s eyes darkened, and she panted for air as if anxiety might take her at any moment. She didn’t say a word but seemed to internalize the pain.
“I’m sorry, Tara.” He assumed his response came across as trite, but he honestly meant it.
“I don’t need to wait until later. I want to know everything about Dallas now.” Her voice wavered, but she firmed her shoulders. “Then when we get back to D.C., I’ll commit myself and my time one hundred percent to helping find Oren.”
Cal nodded at her sudden resolve to assist in the investigation, but unfortunately, the things she would have to do would be painful for her. Equally painful as the events she’d survived thus far, and he worried she’d fold under the stress.
Chapter 14
Late-night pizza never tasted so good to Cal as he shared it with the Knights in the living room at the safe house. The whole team gathering under one roof lowered the odds of Keeler harming Tara and helped Cal relax a notch. Not Tara. She’d tucked her feet under her in the corner of the sectional sofa and didn’t seem relaxed or hungry. She’d pushed her fork around her plate at dinner, too, eating only a few bites of the omelet despite his encouragement.
