Page 78 of Fatal Mistake
“Yes. I wish I didn’t have to go, but with Keeler shortening the time between bombs, it’s even more important for me to work the Oregon scene.”
Before he takes another life, Tara thought, but she didn’t voice thoughts that would only exacerbate Cal’s angst.
Chapter 23
Washington, D.C.
3:30 p.m.
Wheels up in three.” The pilot’s voice came over the jet’s intercom as the plane sat on the runway awaiting takeoff.
Cal heard his teammates clicking on their seat belts behind him. He’d chosen to sit alone in the front of the plane, a photocopy of Keeler’s most recent journal on his lap. Cal would use the flying time to read Keeler’s tirades. Tara had suggested she keep the journals to read, but even if they weren’t evidence and had to remain in the FBI’s custody, there was no way he’d let her read even a photocopy before he’d prescreened them. Not only because he wanted to predict how she would react to the information, but also his gut said the journal contained items that the team would need to remain confidential.
The plane lurched forward and taxied, gaining speed. As the wheels rolled over the runway, he rested his head back on the seat. He told himself it was because vibrations would make it hard to read, but in reality, he wasn’t up to getting into the head of a crazy man, the killer who was targeting the amazing woman who’d somehow made her way into Cal’s heart. If her response to the almost-kiss in the car was any indication, she’d opened her heart to him, too.
How had he let that happen?
She’d been hurt enough lately, and when this was all over, he would hurt her again, because he still had to come to grips with the senseless loss of lives, and it was unfair to ask her to wait around while he did.
Unease weighed down on him, and he concentrated on relaxing the tension in his muscles. He’d used the same procedure hundreds of times before SEAL missions, and he always followed it with a quick catnap. Fifteen minutes and he was good to go for hours.
Breathe in and out. In and out.
He suddenly felt someone standing over him. His hand automatically went to his weapon before he opened his eyes and remembered he was safely ensconced in their jet.
“Whoa there.” Brynn’s hands went up to warn him off.
He lowered his gun. “Sorry.”
“Bad dreams.”
He shrugged, but she had to know he hadn’t reacted like a normal person might respond. Normal, right. Who was normal these days? He’d responded like most people in the military and law enforcement. And for the Knights who’d all seen combat and had their own demons to contend with? His behavior was the norm for the team.
“Mind if I sit?” she asked.
If she planned to try to get him to open up, he’d send her packing, but for now, he gestured at the seat across the aisle and shoved the pile of journal pages between his leg and the cushion. “What’s up?”
“I thought you’d like to know that DNA came back on the Remington.”
“By your less-than-enthusiastic expression, I’d say we didn’t get Keeler’s DNA.”
“Sorry, no. But we’re still in preliminary evidence evaluation, and we could link him to the gun in other ways.” She smiled. “At least we have the journals from today. Those should contain touch DNA.”
Right. The journals that likely held horrible thoughts about Tara.
“You look a million miles away,” Brynn said.
He lifted the stack of papers. “I need to get started reading the journal entries.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“Does anyone ever want to get inside the head of a psychopath?”
“I suppose not.” She got up. “The reading might be horrible, but it could give us the lead we desperately need.”
He nodded, and she stepped away. He turned to the first page, dated six months before the first bombing. As predicted, the pages were filled with Keeler’s perceived mistreatment by society. By the bank who repossessed his family’s farm. His employer and Tara, neither of them appreciating his amazing skills and brilliance. He followed each tirade with ways that his affiliation with ISIS would let him seek revenge. The pages contained pretty much everything Cal had expected, but he hadn’t expected Keeler to be so cruel when it came to Tara.
Cal dreaded asking her to read the pages of filth uttered about her, but he would have to ask. Sure, Cal could ask her questions about things he’d read in the journal, and he would do that, but just as she’d known things about the items they’d taken into evidence that Cal would never have come up with on his own, she could see notes in the journal that meant something only to her.
