The Blackout

by K J Kalis

  Kat stood up and nodded.

  “Come with me.”

  Kat followed the stumpy man down a maze of stark hallways that were nothing more than gray paint and gray carpet. After a few turns, he opened a door to find Van seated at a table. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  As the door closed, Kat noticed there was an agent in the room, behind the door. It was Yasmin Lee. “Hello, Ms. Beckman. Thanks for joining us.”

  Anger tightened Kat’s stomach. “What is this about? Why did you arrest him?”

  “The bugs at Palm Coast Electric & Power ring a bell?”

  Kat slumped down in the chair next to Van. “You found them.”

  Yasmin nodded and sat down in the chair across the table from Kat and Van. She was wearing basically the same outfit as the last time Kat saw her, black pants, black shirt, gray jacket. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail behind her. She rested small hands on the table. “The frequency of your bugs encroached on one of ours. Our techs picked up the signal and tracked them.”

  Kat shot a look at Van, who shrugged. According to Stephanie, the bugs couldn’t be tracked.

  Yasmin looked at each of them. “Someone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  Van raised his eyebrows. Kat didn’t know what to do. If she told Yasmin the truth, they could be in trouble. The fact of the matter was that they were trying to get to the bottom of the same issue that the FBI was looking into. Maybe it was time to tell what they knew. “I did it. I put the bugs in Sal Manko’s office yesterday.”

  “And why would you do that?” Yasmin asked, leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms.

  “We think he knows more about Theresa Walsh’s disappearance than he’s saying.”

  Yasmin raised her eyebrows. “Really. Why would you say that?”

  Kat felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “It’s not just because of what I heard on the audio last night if that’s what you’re asking. Theresa told me she thought there was something going on.”

  Yasmin didn’t say anything. She just sat and stared at them with her eyebrows raised. Kat wondered if that was something they taught at the FBI academy at Quantico.

  Van straightened in his chair. “We are just looking for answers. Haven’t been able to get them any other way. What else would you have suggested?”

  “Maybe something legal for a start?”

  “Fine. Tell us what’s going on with Theresa, then,” Van said.

  Kat could tell Van was losing his patience. Though Van was a former Marine and respected authority, he didn’t tend to do so for just anyone. Kat wasn’t sure Yasmin had earned his respect yet. That could be problematic in trying to get information from her.

  Yasmin squinted her eyes and stared back at Van. “We’ve got nothing.”

  Kat’s heart sank and started to beat a little faster, fear coursing through her. How could they not have anything on Theresa? She was the wife of the CEO of a major company. Deep breaths, she told herself.

  Kat saw Van blink and turn his head slightly. “What do you mean you’ve got nothing?”

  “Nothing.” Yasmin sighed. “There are times that we hit a brick wall and have nothing to go on. This seems to be one of those times.”

  Van leaned forward. “Nothing on her phone, her vehicle, nothing at all? She hasn’t reached out to anyone?”

  Yasmin shook her head. “No. As far as we can tell she’s pulled a disappearing act. There’s no sign of her. We checked her phone and her social. There’s nothing there. Can’t even get a ping on it. No activity on her bank accounts or anything else. Literally nothing.”

  Kat tried to calm herself, knowing that with her history of PTSD she needed to stay focused on the one thing in front of her. Her heart started to beat harder in her chest when she asked, “What about her husband?”

  “Bart Walsh?” Yasmin snorted. “He’s of no help. He’s stonewalling us. Only gave us sketchy information that he hasn’t seen his wife. Doesn’t know where she could be.”

  Kat took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and trying to focus at the same time. All she could think of was Mike. The idea that a child the same age as Jack would have to be without his mother was terrifying to her. That could have been Jack. “Are you saying that Bart has been uncooperative?”

  “Without a doubt.” Yasmin pushed the folder she had in front of her to the side. “Based on what you’ve told us and what we heard on the audio, and yes, we did listen to it, although we can’t use it in a court of law, we know there is a larger issue here.”

  “Yes, that’s what Theresa was trying to tell me,” Kat said. A wave of hope washed over her. It seemed as though Yasmin was finally listening to them.

  “We’ve got a lot of incidents here that we aren’t sure are related — the disappearance of Theresa Walsh, the apparent threat to Bart, though we don’t know what that is, and the fire at the marina.”

  “You’ve connected the fire at the marina?”

  “The matchbook that Freddie told you about.”

  “Yeah,” Kat said, “He mentioned the name to me in an offhand way, and I told him that I thought I had read on background that Bart was part of that fraternity.”

  “He was. You were right.”

  “What’s the link?”

  “We are working on that. Looks like Bart had a sailboat at that marina. It was destroyed.”

  Kat and Van looked at each other. The odds of Bart having a boat at the same marina that there was a fire? Probably not good. “What you are saying is that someone targeted Bart’s boat?”

  “Correct. That’s our working theory.”

  “You think Bart did it?”

  “We’d like to talk to him, that’s for sure.”

  A lump formed in Kat’s throat. If the person who had set the fire was determined enough to destroy an entire marina of boats, taking lives and leveling what had been a historic place for people to sail and enjoy the water, what else had that person done? More importantly, why? What else were they capable of doing?

  As her mind flashed to the possibilities, she started to feel lightheaded. What had happened to Theresa? What would happen to Mike if Theresa was dead? What if Bart was behind all of it? Her breath became shallow and memories of her time in Afghanistan surfaced. The noise, the thunder of the explosion. She rubbed her wrist, the wrist she had shattered in the IED explosion that launched the Humvee she was riding in.

  The voices in the room started to fade into the background, her breath becoming a rushing noise in her head and chest. It was like the roar of an angry ocean. Breathe in, breathe out, she thought to herself. She knew enough to put her head between her legs before she passed out. The thoughts and fear kept coming. Memories of the past — the IED that had shattered her wrist, the Marine in the front seat of the Humvee who had died in the crash, blood dripping down his forehead from underneath his helmet, the fire at the Colorado estate that had almost killed Carlye Morgan, the young girl who had been sex trafficked, the feeling of the garotte being tightened around her neck in Washington.

  “Kat? Kat?” as her breathing slowed, she felt Van’s warm hand on her back. “Come back. Are you okay?”

  Yasmin’s voice cut through the fog that Kat was in, “I’m going to call a medic.”

  Kat tried to object but didn’t have enough breath in her to say anything.

  Within a minute, there were two other agents in the room and a medic carrying a red first aid kit and AED bag with a stethoscope around his neck. “What happened here?” Kat sat up in the chair, exhaustion flooding over her.

  “Routine questioning. She started to freak out.” Yasmin had her arms folded over her chest as if the whole episode was an inconvenience.

  “Agent Lee,” Van said, “My wife has a legitimate PTSD diagnosis. How about if you stick to a more respectful tone.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean...”

  Kat felt the squeeze of a blood pressure cuff inflate. The medic put an oxygen sensor on
her finger and listened to her heart. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

  The medic, kneeling next to her said, “Could we clear the room, please? Let’s get her a bottle of water and a package of crackers, something with a little sugar would be good.”

  Van gave Kat a look. She nodded. Once the room was clear, the medic pulled up a chair next to her entering some information on a tablet he pulled out of his bag. “Want to tell me what happened?”

  “Agent Lee was asking us a bunch of questions.” Kat felt her stomach tighten. “My thoughts just got ahead of me.” She looked right at the medic. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. He was wearing a blue FBI polo shirt and black pants. “I’ve been working on a case with Freddie Henderson. It’s just got a lot of moving parts. I don’t always deal well with that.”

  “Freddie Henderson?”

  “Yeah, why?” Kat looked at him, still trying to take deep breaths.

  “He’s a legend. He came and spoke at Quantico when I was in the academy. Great guy. Funny as all get out.” The medic tapped a few more screens on his tablet. “Your blood pressure is a little high but is coming down. Heart rate too. Oxygen level is fine.” He leaned forward and listened to her heart again and flashed a light into her pupils. “This happen to you often?”

  “Less than it used to. I’ve had issues with PTSD.”

  “Taking anything for it?”

  Kat shook her head. “No. I run and go to therapy.”

  The medic nodded. “Good plan.” He stood up, “How are you feeling now?”

  “Pretty much the way I always do after this happens. Tired. Spacey. You know…”

  The medic squinted. “Actually, I do. Bad shoot out a couple of years ago. Job is hard on all of us.”

  Kat felt a wave of relaxation cover her. So many people didn’t understand PTSD, or they used the term too loosely. Everyone from people who had served overseas to someone who didn’t get the dress they wanted because they were sold out claimed to have PTSD. That didn’t help people like Kat who actually had it. PTSD was complicated enough. Why anyone would claim to have it over the smallest infractions, Kat didn’t know.

  The medic stood up. “You are good to go.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let Yasmin fool you. She’s actually a softie. She fosters dogs in her spare time.”

  Kat started to laugh. The idea of hard-nosed Yasmin cuddling with a puppy was funny. “Are you kidding?”

  “I wish I was. She’s also a black belt, so there’s that…”

  “That I can understand.”

  The medic nodded. “I’ll send them back in. Just make sure you get a lot of water for the rest of the day and maybe try to take a nap later. These episodes are hard on your body. No running until tomorrow.”

  “I did that this morning.”

  The medic nodded and opened the door. Van pushed past him and leaned over her. “You okay? Did this just start again?”

  “Yeah. Just garden variety attack.”

  He frowned. “It seemed worse than that. Haven’t seen you like that in a long time.”

  She shrugged and stood up. “I’m okay. Just got ahead of myself.”

  Yasmin stood in the doorway staring at her. Kat walked past. “I’d like to use the restroom. Which way is that?”

  One of the agents pointed down the hallway. “Down the hallway and around the corner. It’ll be on your right, just past the water fountain. I can go with you.”

  Yasmin looked at him, “She can go on her own.”

  For a moment, Kat saw the gentle side of Yasmin the medic told her about. “Thanks,” she nodded, needing a minute to herself. As she walked down the hallway, her thoughts were still racing. All the information coming at her was too much. She didn’t know if she could continue on. She felt bad for Theresa and her gut told her that Bart was involved, but how far did they need to take this? She turned the corner and looked for the water fountain. Part of her was afraid. She was afraid for Theresa, that was for sure, but the fear she was feeling was more about herself and her own health. How long could she keep pushing like this and stay sane? What if her PTSD came back and she couldn’t control it? Her breath started to come faster, the rise of fear like a flood within her. She pushed the fear aside before it overwhelmed her again.

  Kat knew she was at a crossroads. She could tell Yasmin what she knew and go home. She could focus on Van and Jack and taking care of the dogs. She could go back to following small stories that impacted the community, ones that wouldn’t pour gas on the fire of her PTSD. But what about Theresa and Mike? What about the trouble that Bart was supposedly in and how was that linked to Theresa’s disappearance? What about the marina fire and the people that had been injured? Kat stopped in the hallway. Her gut told her there was a big story here, a tragic one, but a big one nonetheless. Her mind told her that it was all too much, that she needed to go back to a simpler life. The question was which one she would listen to.

  After splashing some water on her face and washing her hands, Kat went back to the conference room where Van and Yasmin were waiting. “You okay?” Van asked, his brows furrowed.

  “Yeah, I just needed a minute,” Kat said, sitting down. Someone had brought a bottle of water and two cellophane-wrapped packages, cookies and crackers. Kat pulled open the cookies and took a bite of one. It was dry and crumbly, but she washed it down with a swig of water. “Where are we? We’ve got a problem to solve. I want to know what happened to Theresa and I want to know how Bart is connected.”

  * * *

  Kat and Van spent the next hour with Yasmin, telling her every bit of information they could remember from the interaction Kat had with Theresa at the ball field, to Mike’s visit to the hospital, to Kat’s visit with Sal Manko. Kat filled in the blanks about the blue dots and the fire scenes she visited with Freddie.

  “He didn’t send over any reports about extreme power surges at the same areas that those blue dots were on the images,” Yasmin said, thumbing through pages on her tablet. “Why don’t I have those?”

  “Maybe he hasn’t settled on the cause yet? I guess that would be a question for him,” Kat said, picking up her phone. “Here are the pictures. Freddie said it was unusual for the transformers to be blown right off of the poles.” Kat pointed to the bottom of the transformer where the wood was shattered, “See right here? The bolts are still in place.”

  “These are from the same spot as the blue dots on the screenshots Theresa sent you?”

  Kat nodded, feeling her strength return. No matter how hard it was, she knew she needed to help. She needed to do it for herself, but more importantly for Jack. He needed a mom that wouldn’t give up. Only she could give him that. “Yes. When I took the images to him, he decided to let me ride along to see what they found.” She paused for a moment, “Right as I was having my attack, we were talking about the marina. You said Bart has a boat there?”

  Yasmin shook her head, “If you can count a burned-out hulk of a sailboat as having a boat, then yes. It was tied off right near the gas docks. The report Freddie sent over said that the two fuel tanks at the club exploded. Bart Walsh’s boat wouldn’t have had a chance.”

  Kat leaned back in her chair, crossing her leg. “There are a lot of pieces here, but I don’t see the connection yet.”

  Yasmin set the tablet down on the table. “The connection is Bart Walsh. He’s at the center of all of this. Now we have to figure out if he’s on the right side or the wrong side.”

  35

  The ride home was quiet. Kat followed Van home in her Jeep once Yasmin released him. They would not be pressing charges for the illegal tapping of Sal Manko’s office. Yasmin said that since the taps were disabled, there was nothing that Bart, Sal or anyone else could do about it. Kat realized it was her way of thanking them for cooperating and helping her with the investigation.

  The windows on the Jeep were open. With luck and not too much traffic, they would make it home in time to meet the bus. If not, Kat had texted Jack and told him to go to t
he next-door neighbor’s house until they got there. The dry air coursed through the windows, pushing Kat’s wavy hair up into her face. She reached over to the passenger seat and pulled on a baseball hat that was left behind so she could see the road clearly. There was no music on in the car. She needed quiet.

  Her mind drifted to Yasmin. She had all the trappings of a career FBI agent. The dark clothes, the scowling look on her face, the black belt. To say that Kat was surprised that she fostered dogs would have been an understatement. Yasmin seemed like the last person in the world who would have that sensitive of a side to her. And yet, in some ways it made sense. From working with other law enforcement and military personnel, Kat knew they had a sharp sensitivity. It was what kept them alive.

  Yasmin seemed to have a clear picture of the information she and Van had accumulated by the time they left the FBI offices. Their work as journalists was different from others in their industry. While so many reporters were busy trying to outmaneuver law enforcement and get in their way, Kat and Van had always focused on helping. Sure, there were times they couldn’t say how they knew something, but they were never shy about sharing what they knew. While they had the power to report an injustice, they both knew that only law enforcement had the power to do anything about it.

  As Kat turned off the highway, she started to think about what Yasmin had said before they left, about how Bart Walsh was the cog on which all of these seemingly independent issues turned. Theresa’s disappearance, the marina fire, the blue dots. What else was out there that was connected to him, Kat didn’t know. What she did know is that the more she saw, the more she believed that Theresa was right. There was someone or something that was coming to get Bart. What that was and who else was caught up in the storm, she didn’t know. She just hoped they were in time to save whoever was in Bart’s way. It was an invisible enemy.

  36

  Roger Guerra had just come back from a late lunch after a management team meeting. The sub sandwich he had eaten hadn’t landed well. He reached into his desk drawer and chewed a handful of chalky antacids. Candace Morrison was sitting next to him, dipping carrots in something that looked like hummus. She looked up, her long eyelashes framing her big brown eyes. “You know, if you ate a little better, you wouldn’t have to chew on those things all the time.”