Page 72 of Fatal Mistake
“You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
“But I do…you see. When I took off from the hospital, I didn’t ask for God’s guidance. I decided that I could only count on myself to stay alive, so I bolted.” She shook her head. “But lately I’ve been thinking I was wrong. If I’d listened to God maybe I would have stayed, and He could have resolved the issue before more women died.”
“You’re playing ‘what if’ again. That’s no different than feeling guilty over not letting Keeler down gently. There’s no way to know what would have happened in either case.”
“But it doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t trust God and ran.”
“So what? That only proves you made a mistake. The God I remember wouldn’t hold that against you if you asked for forgiveness.”
“You’re right, I suppose, but it’s a whole lot easier to say I’m forgiven than to actually accept it.”
Cal felt like someone hit him upside the head with one of the large fence posts he’d seen on the drive over. The same thing was true of his guilt. He was choosing to hang on to it when he no more deserved the blame than she did. He’d done his job. Followed proper protocol. Worked until he dropped. Done everything within his power to succeed.
Everything? Really?
Surely, he could do more to save lives if only he could focus. Maybe forget about his feelings for Tara and figure out how to render Keeler’s bombs safe. Because until he did, women were at risk. Big risk. If Keeler set another bomb, and Cal was lucky enough to get to the woman before it exploded, Cal couldn’t stop the explosion. Just as he hadn’t been able to save Willy even when he had him in his arms and was running from the kidnappers’ compound.
Cal had no time to lose. No time to think about anything but the job.
He turned his attention to the pages in front of him, racing through them to look for key points. “These messages show Keeler growing more and more agitated.” Cal tapped the last page. “He’s positively spiteful in this last e-mail in January when you two bumped into each other again.”
Cal took out his phone and snapped photos of the pages. “I don’t want to wait until we get back to the office to begin working on this lead. I’ll e-mail these pictures to Kaci so she can get her analysts tracking down the e-mail address right away.”
Cal typed a message to Kaci. He attached the photos and set the pages on top of the pictures. When he finished, he looked at Tara, who stared at the envelope.
“Let me check the hole for anything we might have missed.” With the light from his phone, he peered into the dark space. He spotted several leather-bound books set deep in the cavity. He drew them out one at a time, counting five books in all.
Cal ran his fingers over the first book’s aged binding before flipping it open to reveal journal pages filled with tiny scribbles that he recognized as Keeler’s handwriting. Cal used the dates listed in the front of the other books to stack them in order.
He opened the first one and read, “‘Ode to Tara.’”
“What does that mean?” Tara asked.
“These are Keeler’s journals,” Cal replied.
Tara frowned, her response mimicking Cal’s thoughts. These journals were sure to hold secrets and horrors and neither of them would want to read the thoughts of a psychopath.
Chapter 22
Ode to Tara. The title of Keeler’s journal rolled around in Tara’s mind, and she tried to hide any outward signs of her emotional turmoil. Soon Cal would read Oren’s personal thoughts about her. Would Oren rant and rail against her rejection? Maybe express in words the crazy infatuation that caused him to steal her prized possessions.
She sighed, drawing Cal’s attention. He appeared to want to give her a hug. Feeling so emotionally raw and vulnerable, she’d be glad for a hug, but that was precisely the reason she scooted out of reach and sought her rubber bands. She expected him to try to stop her, but he didn’t, and she snapped hard.
Despite his assurance that she had no reason to feel guilty, it continued to bother her, and she knew that until she fully dealt with her issues of ignoring God in her life, her nightmares would continue. She was no more free to hug Cal and lean on him now than she’d been since he’d arrived at the tower to bring her back here.
He tapped the journals sitting on the hay next to him. “Any idea why Keeler would leave these things here and risk them being found by the new owners?”
“None.” Tara bent closer to the pictures, and raised holes near the edge caught her attention. “These have pin-sized holes. Like they were posted somewhere.”
“The house at your aunt’s place, maybe? He could have thought someone might see them there, so he took them down but didn’t want to get rid of them.”
“Or he could have posted them at his family’s house but removed them when he lost the farm. But then it doesn’t make sense that he left them here.”
“If I’ve learned anything in chasing down criminals, it’s that the things they do often don’t make sense even when they explain their reasoning. That’s doubly true of someone as disturbed at Keeler.” He paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “You have to remember he’s obsessed with ISIS and killing. He’s living in a make-believe world, and his actions don’t have to make sense.”
“I suppose so.” She tried to give his thought some consideration, but her mind was a jumbled mess. One thing, however, stood out bright and clear. “Killing seven women makes no sense in any world.”
“You have a point.” He came to his feet and held out his hand. “C’mon. Let’s stop at the hired hand’s house at your aunt’s place to see if there are matching holes in the walls for these pictures.”
