Page 82 of Fatal Mistake
She nodded, but the shock of nearly losing Cal before she really got to know him didn’t seem to abate. An ache as real as the bullet that had pierced her stomach took her breath. If this was the first bit of news…“Wait, you said there were two developments.”
Shane held up his hands. “Relax. This has nothing to do with anyone getting hurt.”
She nodded but couldn’t seem to shake the thought of Cal incapacitated. He’d been so strong, her rock, and if he could get hurt, what might happen to her, to others?
“You care about him, don’t you?” Shane asked. “Cal, that is.”
She didn’t know if she should admit it to anyone on the team, but Shane was such an easy person to talk to. She nodded, and it felt good to finally declare her feelings, even if it was by way of a nod of her head.
“He’s a great guy,” Shane said. “But you should know, he’s troubled about something and maybe—”
“It’s not a good time to try to start something with him? Yeah, I know.”
“So he confided in you?”
Had he? Was his often-pensive look caused by his guilt over not catching Oren or did it go deeper? “I’m not sure, as he doesn’t willingly share what’s bugging him—anything personal, really—but I can see it.”
“I’m afraid it’s more than bugging him.”
“Yeah, I got that, too.” She suddenly felt uncomfortable talking about her feelings with a virtual stranger. “The other thing you mentioned?”
“Right.” A knowing look crossed his face.
So what if she was clamming up like Cal? Her talk with Shane in no way resembled Cal’s behavior with her. She and Cal had something. She knew it, he knew it, and they both also knew his unwillingness to open up would prevent them from moving forward. Maybe that was his plan.
“So there’s this program call ShotSpotter,” Shane continued, and Tara turned her focus to listening to him. “Basically it’s a network of microphones installed in high crime areas so when guns are fired, the microphones record the audio. That in turn details the number of weapons and shots fired and provides real-time maps of the shooting location to first responders so when they arrive at the scene they’re prepared. Not only does it keep them safer, but it helps in aiding victims, searching for evidence, and even interviewing witnesses.”
“Interesting,” she said. “But how is this related to our investigation?”
“Earlier this evening ShotSpotter in a D.C. location picked up gunfire at a construction site. After the police investigated, they determined explosives had been stolen.”
“Explosives like the ones Oren uses.”
He nodded. “Max is contacting the local authorities to see if we can process the scene. If we’re lucky, we might find Keeler’s prints or DNA.”
Tara’s stomach cramped down hard. “But it doesn’t really matter if you get his prints, right? I mean, sure, you can prove he committed the burglary, but the real problem is that he’s in possession of more explosives. He’ll use them to build a bomb and another woman is going to die.”
* * *
Mount Hood National Forest, Oregon
The world continued to spin, sidelining Cal while the rest of the team and Deputy Andrews combed the woods for the person who detonated the bomb. With subpar hearing, Cal hadn’t even been able to discuss things with Max before he called the sheriff to request backup, and he and Brynn donned vests and took off together. If it were any situation other than one involving a bomber, Cal would enjoy seeing Max in action, as he rarely came out in the field and even more rarely participated in a physical pursuit.
Cal pushed off the bumper of the SUV and tested his balance. The area spun less than it had a few moments ago, but his head continued to ring with a high-pitched, piercing sound. He put a hand on the vehicle to end the residual spinning when he spotted movement in the bushes.
It could be a deer or elk, but he’d take no chances. He backed behind the SUV and hunkered down in a position where he could still keep his eye on the area. Leaves rustled and soon bushes parted a fraction. He couldn’t make out what or who was peering out at him, but he thought it was a deer assessing the risk of coming into the clearing.
The opening widened, and a pair of eyes, not animal but human, appeared in the space. He shifted to grab his sidearm but knew he couldn’t make a shot at this distance if needed, so he crept around the side of the vehicle and to the back door left open by Max. Cal quietly lifted the lid on a weapon case and found an assault rifle. He inserted an ammo magazine and moved back to the bumper.
A hand came out of the bushes, then another, this one holding a handgun. Not a man’s large hands, but a woman’s smaller, slender pair. He didn’t let the surprise hinder his focus, but lifted his weapon and sighted in the area where the woman would emerge.
She didn’t disappoint, but soon slipped out low to the ground. Of Middle Eastern descent, she wore American clothing and hadn’t covered her face. He focused the scope, taking in her appearance. Could she be Meer or Yasin? Even though she wasn’t dressed in traditional garb as Yasin had worn when she’d accompanied Keeler to Dallas, Cal would go with Yasin as the most likely candidate. She’d likely dressed this way as she was hidden from view and needed to move quickly through heavily wooded areas. Or maybe she didn’t expect anyone to survive the bomb.
A sense of urgency almost had him moving, but he held his position and watched her scurry across the road, heading toward the front end of his vehicle.
Could she be planning to hop in and take off?
Assuming so, he scooted to the other side of the car and waited. She soon moved around the front, and he eased toward the bumper. A door latch clicked, and he figured she’d closed the back door. He heard the front door opening.
