Page 74 of Fatal Mistake
She remembered when he’d created the garishly colored picture in a junior high art class. He thought it was so realistic, but it wasn’t in perspective and the barn next to the cow was about the same size.
Still, he loved to draw, and she’d encouraged him. Wait, draw. Her mind flashed back to the pump house. To the table. Under the binder. Large papers folded. Drawings of devices. The necklace bomb.
“There were more sketches in the pump house,” she blurted out. “Diagrams of the bombs and parts.”
“What brought that back?”
She pointed at the picture with Oren’s signature on the bottom. “Oren loved to draw as a kid. The picture triggered a memory.”
Cal’s eyes gleamed. “And are you any good at drawing? Can you re-create what you saw?”
“Not really, but I can give you a rough sketch that should do the trick. I know it had words on it. Those I don’t remember, but maybe what I do remember will help.”
“I’m sure it will.”
They walked the rest of the house, not discovering any additional leads, and soon stepped back into the warm sunshine. Cal fixed a new seal on the door and escorted her back up the drive, where he allowed her to run inside and return the key while he waited on the porch.
Tara handed the key to June.
“Did you learn anything?” she asked.
Cal had warned her not to share any information without his permission, and she hadn’t thought to ask him about today. “Nothing I can tell you about.”
“Then I won’t ask again.” June frowned. “I hate that all of this is happening, but at least I’ve gotten to see you two days in a row.”
She circled her arms around Tara and drew her close. Her aunt smelled of peanut butter and chocolate, as did the house. When June released her, she picked up a large tin that often held June’s famous cookies.
“Monster cookies for Cal,” she said.
“Cal?” Tara cried out. “But you know I love them, too, and I haven’t had any in months.”
“I do, but I can spoil you anytime, and unless you bring Cal back here when all of this is over, this might be my last time to spoil him.”
Tara appraised her aunt. “I know you’re fishing for something, but I’m not touching that comment.”
Tara kissed June’s cheek, took the tin, and backed toward the door.
“Honey, I saw the way you two look at each other, and my old heart would be real happy to know you might be interested in him.”
“I can’t hear you,” Tara joked.
“He’s a fine man. Handsome, too.”
“Bye, Aunt June. I love you.” She quickly stepped out the door.
Cal spun, and she handed him the tin. “June’s famous monster cookies. Apparently you made quite an impression on her. She doesn’t make them for everyone.”
She never baked them for Nolan. The thought came unbidden, but she ignored it and slid into the car.
Cal opened the tin and offered her a cookie. She gladly picked one up. The size of a saucer, the cookie was made of oatmeal, peanut butter, chocolate chips, and peanuts. She chomped a gooey bite, but Cal closed the tin without taking one.
She swallowed her bite. “You don’t like cookies?”
“No, I like them fine, but my clothes, probably my hair—shoot, all of me smells like the barn, and I can’t eat.”
“Oh.” She was surprised that he was so sensitive to smells, though after seeing his reaction in the barn she shouldn’t be, she supposed. “I’m used to the odor, but I should have thought about that and warned you. It lingers.”
“We’ll have to change clothes before we go back to the office or the team is bound to make jokes for days.” He grinned.
