Page 2 of Fatal Mistake
She rattled off the farm address in rural Virginia about an hour and a half from her home in Washington, D.C. “I’m down the drive. In the pump house. It’s not more than a shed behind the hired hand’s house Oren rents. He grew up next door, but his mother died last year and he recently lost the farm. My aunt invited him to live here.”
“Why are you in the pump house?”
“My aunt…She wasn’t getting any water at the main house, so she asked me to check the pump. The door was locked, but I broke in and found…oh, no…no. I can’t believe this is happening.”
Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she shot across the room, putting as much distance as possible between her and the door.
“Where is Keeler now?”
“He just got out of his car and will be here soon. He wasn’t supposed to be home, but he came back early. He’s gonna…oh my gosh…he’ll…” She couldn’t say the words aloud, as everything suddenly seemed terrifyingly real.
“Is there another way out of the shed?” Agent Riggins asked, that infuriating calm remaining in place.
“Nothing he can’t see. I can’t…” A sob stole her words, and tears pricked at her eyes, itching, burning for release. She swallowed hard to fight them off.
“Hey, hey, now, Tara,” he soothed.
She heard clicking on the line, then silence. Terrifying, horrible silence.
“Are you still there?” she cried out.
“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll get you through this. My team is already dispatching a sheriff’s deputy.”
What? He was passing her off. Unbelievable.
Tears gave way to anger. “But what about you? You’re the FBI. You should be here, too. To arrest Oren. He could be the Lone Wolf. The bomber you’re looking for. I thought you’d make this a priority.”
“It is a priority, and I’m on my way. But even with a chopper on standby, it’ll take twenty minutes or so for me to arrive.” She heard activity in the background of the call, and his breathing picked up as if he was on the move. “The deputy can arrive sooner. Until then, I need you to take proactive measures.”
“What can I do other than blow up one of his bombs?” Hysterical laughter bubbled up, and she swallowed it down.
“Does the door open in?” he asked, ignoring her panic.
“Yes.”
“If you’re not by the door, go over there.”
“But that’s where he’ll be.”
“Just trust me, Tara. Go to the door. Stand behind it so when he pushes it open he doesn’t see you.”
He sounded so certain, so sure, that she did as he asked and crossed the room.
“Okay, I’m there,” she whispered, but didn’t have peace about moving closer to Oren.
Agent Riggins might be able to give directions that he thought would help, but he didn’t know Oren. Didn’t know his tenacity. She did. Had experienced it when he declared his love three months ago, and she’d let him down not too gently, but he still needed a giant stick upside the head to get a clue.
“Now find something big and hard that you can strike him with,” Agent Riggins continued. “If the deputy doesn’t arrive before Keeler enters the building, you’ll have to disable him.”
She looked around the room and found a thick, jagged piece of wood. She almost laughed, as it was looking like Oren would get that whack upside the head he sorely needed, but there was nothing funny about her situation.
She lowered her voice to keep Oren from hearing her. “Okay. I found a board. It should work.”
“Good. Now you’re ready to take action if needed,” Agent Riggins said over the sound of his footsteps pounding in the background of the call.
“I…he…” She lost her voice. Lost her breath. Concentrated but couldn’t seem to draw in enough air. She was suffocating.
“Let’s not focus on Keeler,” he said. “Why don’t you describe the items on the table?”
