Page 93 of Fatal Mistake
“What…what do you need?”
“Our robot is going to get up close and friendly with you now. The tech will direct it to lift the tent flap and zoom in the camera so I can get a good look at the device, and then we’ll take a few x-ray pictures of it.”
“Okay.”
“In all of this, I need you to remain still.”
“Okay.”
“We’re signing off for a few minutes so we can concentrate on the robot. Do you have any questions before we do?”
“N-n-no.”
“Okay, back in a few,” Cal said lightly, though the tightness in his gut had moved to his chest, too.
Frankie muted the mic.
Cal took a step closer. “From what I’ve been able to ascertain on the previous bombs—”
“Previous.” Frankie’s head shot up and he stared at Cal, who could almost see the thoughts racing through the guy’s head like sports scores on the bottom of a TV screen. “This is the work of the Lone Wolf, isn’t it?”
Cal nodded.
Frankie clutched a hand to his chest, then let it fall with a thud to his knee. “Man, oh, man.”
“Relax.” Cal rested his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “This is the same job you were doing a second ago. Nothing has changed.”
“R-right. Same job.”
“Do you need me to take over?” Cal wasn’t familiar with this robot and, even nervous, the kid would likely do a better job.
“I got it.”
“Then as I was saying, the explosives will be packed in the rear of the bomb. I’d like a clear picture of that section along with x-rays for the entire device.”
He nodded and started Anne Droid moving to the tent where her pinchers lifted the fabric. Cal forced himself to breathe as the first pictures came over the monitor. The woman sat in a dining chair, her back rigid and shoulders level. She had a square face with a broad nose and her dark brown eyes were wide with terror. Her gaze darted around, but she remained seated and motionless. The white pipe circled her neck, and the front coupling held a crude drawing of a skull and crossbones as Cal had expected.
“We saw the design when we placed the tent,” Frankie said. “Is that the Lone Wolf’s signature?”
“Yeah, and I need you to keep that bit of info to yourself.”
“No problem,” he replied.
Cal doubted, despite good intentions by Frankie, that he would be able keep this quiet. Best case, he’d share it with his wife. Worst case, he’d pass it on to his sergeant, who would run it up the chain of command and word would spread, but Cal couldn’t worry about damage control right now.
At the moment, the most important thing was to get his mind into the game, as it was clear that he would be donning the eighty-pound suit waiting for him outside the truck. Even if a cell signal couldn’t pierce the tent to set off an explosion, Keeler packed his bombs with many hidden switches, and Cal had to be careful if he didn’t want to go boom right along with the device.
* * *
Spotsylvania County, Virginia
Tara’s palms were slick with sweat, so she scrubbed them over her jeans. She’d sat with June for thirty minutes now but time dragged. Each second, each moment an hour. Tara’s mouth had gone dry long ago. She wanted to get a glass of water, but June couldn’t risk tipping her head back, and she didn’t have any straws in the house, so Tara wouldn’t seek creature comforts for herself while June suffered.
“How did we find ourselves in such a situation?” June asked.
Tara shook her head. “I should have seen how unstable Oren is.”
“Now, don’t go blaming yourself. I spent more time with the guy than you did.” June swallowed hard. “Besides, Cal once told me that guys like Oren were good at hiding their psychopathic tendencies, and it wasn’t uncommon for people around them not to see it.”
