Page 49 of Fatal Mistake
“We need to get inside.” With gentle pressure on her back, he steered her toward the house, ending their amazing interlude. If Tara would be brutally honest with herself, she’d admit she never wanted it to end.
Chapter 16
Tara stepped into the kitchen the next morning and found Cal alone. Wearing a pressed version of yesterday’s uniform, he rested against the granite countertop and cupped his hands around a mug, his focus fixed on the blue stoneware. She wondered about his pensive study, but when he looked up, his face held no sign of deep introspection, or he’d managed to hide it from her.
“Good morning,” she said, and went straight to the refrigerator to put off telling him that she’d decided to assist in looking for the rifle today.
He mumbled a “good morning” back at her. She grabbed the orange juice and filled a large glass. She didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was tracking her movements, and once she turned to face him, she’d have to share her decision.
She took a long drink of the cool juice before pivoting. Looking him square in the face, she opened her mouth, but words failed her.
He held up a hand. “You don’t have to say it. You’re going to lead us through the woods today.”
She nodded. “You should know, though, I did take your concerns into account. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t help and Oren hurt another person.”
He set down his mug. “Trust me, I get that. Besides, I expected you’d decide in favor of helping.”
“You know me that well, huh?”
He met her gaze and held it. “I’m coming to.”
And she was coming to know him, too, which she doubted was a good thing.
He pushed off the counter, rising to his full height and seeming to take up all of the space in the room. “I was hoping we might reach a compromise.”
Compromise from him? Mr. By-the-Book. She was all for compromise, and it thrilled her to see he knew the meaning of the word, but unfortunately, she didn’t trust his motives and needed clarification before she would agree to anything.
“Compromise how?” she asked.
“We’ll spend the morning searching for the rifle. If we don’t find anything, we’ll head to D.C.”
“Interesting compromise.”
“I continue to believe the pump house ruins will help you remember more about that night, and that will best serve us in the long run. But I know you want to assist in finding the rifle.” He appraised her for a long moment. “Do we have a deal?”
Him considering her wishes for once? She didn’t need to think twice.
“Deal.” She stuck out her hand.
He engulfed her fingers in his and shook, but he quickly released her hand. “The rest of the team left for the scene hours ago. So why don’t you grab something to eat, and we can get moving?”
The tension in the room seemed to ease, but she thought it better that they didn’t remain in the house alone for much longer.
She picked up a banana and protein bar. “I’ll eat on the way.”
She expected him to argue—to insist she have a more filling meal—but he gestured at the door. In the car, her appetite returned, and she devoured her food as he launched into detailed safety procedures for their search. He gave her so many dos and don’ts that, by the time they stepped outside at the bomb site, her head spun with all the details.
Frowning, he paused by the rear of the SUV and looked up at the sky. She followed his gaze to ominous gray clouds. Humidity saturated the air, and even with the clouds obscuring the sun, the thermometer had risen above eighty degrees.
“Rain’s coming,” he said. “We need to get going before it does and destroys any evidence we might find.”
He opened the SUV hatch and began unloading gear. Rick crossed over to the SUV. Like the other team members, he wore khaki pants and a navy shirt. The others were all neat and clean-looking, but there was an extra sharpness to Rick’s attire at all times, as if he still tried to maintain military precision in his appearance. He shot a look between her and Cal, likely gauging the mood after last night’s tension.
“Don’t worry,” Tara said. “We’ve reached a compromise.”
Rick gave a sharp nod, then grabbed a clipboard and calculator from his bag. In order to determine the direction for their search, Cal and Rick compiled trajectory possibilities for the rifle shot that could have detonated the bomb.
She rested on the bumper and watched the pair. Their heads bent together over a clipboard with drawings filled with angles and numbers. They bandied about words like wind speed, range, and bullet diameter. It didn’t take long for her to see they were both extremely knowledgeable about weapons.
