by Nancy Mehl
E.J. Queen.
Her heart sank.
E.J. knew Casey had been assigned to this operation. In fact, he’d asked for her since she was so good at her job. Still, seeing her again gave him a jolt. They’d worked a case together in D.C.—one that didn’t end well. He’d always found her fascinating. Strength, commitment, and talent poured into a rather small container. Long blond hair usually pulled back in a ponytail. A young face with large dark-brown eyes that seemed to size up situations and people within seconds. Frankly, she used to make him a little nervous.
If he was truthful with himself, he’d had feelings for her. Feelings he had no right to entertain. He’d worked hard over the last year to rid himself of Casey Sloane and was convinced he’d succeeded until this moment.
“Your office was bombed,” he said, waiting for her to let him in. She finally moved out of the way, and he entered the room. He found their witness and another deputy standing in front of a television mounted in a dark wood armoire.
“We’re seeing it now,” Doug said. “Can’t get through on our phones, and no one has called.”
“What’s your next move?” E.J. asked.
“Since we don’t know what’s happening, we stay put until we get orders.”
“I agree.”
Casey glanced at her watch. “If we’re not ready to leave soon, we’ll have to cancel our tickets and get a later flight.”
Doug walked over to E.J. and put his hand out. “Doug Howard. Good to meet you.”
“E.J. Queen. Happy to meet you too, but I wish the circumstances were different.”
“Amen.” Doug stared at Casey, a look of confusion on his face. He waited a few seconds before saying, “And this is Casey Sloane.”
“Actually, we know each other,” E.J. said. “We worked together in D.C.”
“Of course. I forgot you came from Washington, Casey.”
“Yeah.” Casey walked over to the bed and plopped down, focusing on the television as if no one else was in the room. E.J.’s nervousness turned to irritation. If anyone had the right to be upset, it was him. Casey had left D.C. suddenly, walking out on his best friend, Jared, without any explanation. She didn’t say good-bye to E.J. either, and they’d been partners. The snub still bothered him. Not long after she took off, Jared transferred to Los Angeles. Although he and E.J. stayed in touch online, he’d only seen his friend in person once in the last twelve months. During his visit, Jared had seemed distant and uncomfortable. E.J. couldn’t help but blame Casey. Obviously, E.J. reminded Jared of the love he lost, and he couldn’t handle it.
It was clear Doug had also noticed Casey’s reaction, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he introduced E.J. to their witness.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Bennett,” E.J. said, extending his hand.
“Please, just call me Valerie,” she replied, putting her hand in his. “I’m really grateful for your help.”
“Just doing my job.”
E.J. took quick stock of Valerie Bennett. She looked to be in her early forties. Well groomed, an air of professionalism about her. High-end pantsuit, reddish-brown hair that was expertly colored, and a firm handshake. It was clear she was used to meeting the public. Although her fingernails were trimmed and polished, the edges of several nails were ragged. She’d obviously been biting them, probably something she normally didn’t do. And there was something going on behind those hazel eyes. Most likely it was fear, though it could be anything. He’d learned not to read too much into first impressions. Most people had secrets.
“Any coffee?” E.J. asked, directing his question to Doug.
He pointed to the small pot on the dresser. “Cups next to the coffeemaker, along with sugar and creamer.”
“Thanks.” While E.J. put water in the one-serving coffeepot, he heard a phone ring. Doug quickly picked up. A look of relief washed across his features almost immediately. “Chief,” he said, “we were afraid—”
Obviously the person on the other end interrupted him, but Doug didn’t seem to mind. He hurried over to the desk and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, then began to write. E.J. assumed these were their instructions and that they’d soon be on their way. No matter what happened at the Marshals Office, they still had to get their witness to D.C.
Finally, Doug said, “Got it, Chief, but are you really okay? Did we lose anyone?”
After a few seconds, Doug said, “Okay. We’ll take care of it right away. Please keep in touch.” Another long pause. “I . . . I think so.” He turned to look at Casey, who was still staring at the TV. “Casey, we need a burner phone. I didn’t bring one.”
She nodded at him. “I’ve got an old one, the kind before they started adding GPS chips.”
“What’s the number?” he asked.
She rattled it off, and Doug repeated it. Finally he put the phone down. Everyone in the room stared at him as they waited to find out what their next move would be.
“Batterson is concerned that Valerie was the target of the bomber. We need to take off immediately for D.C. We’re on our own for now.”
CHAPTER
THREE
“What do you mean ‘on our own’?” Valerie asked. “Someone set off a bomb hoping to kill me and no one plans to back us up?”
Doug shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
Casey went over to Valerie and sat down next to her. “You’ll be fine. We’re all highly trained professionals, and we’ll get you safely to D.C. Besides, we’re not sure this had anything to do with you at all. We’re just being cautious.” She turned to look at Doug. “So what does the chief want us to do next?”
“He feels we may be compromised, but he doesn’t know the extent of it. He wants us to take every precaution. We’ll need to avoid all public transportation, which makes our airline tickets useless. From here on out, we keep our cellphones off. All communication between us and the chief will be over the burner and the chief’s secure line. Unfortunately, it might take a while for him to get that phone.”
“Where is it?” Casey asked.
“Still in his office. But he keeps it in the bottom drawer of his steel desk. He’s convinced the phone survived the blast. Of course, authorities won’t let anyone into the building unless they’re sure it’s safe. Thank God they’d already started to evacuate before the explosion or there would have been a lot more casualties.”
“Are they concerned about other bombs?” E.J. asked.
“Yeah,” Doug said. “Batterson thinks the guy who did it was only in the building for a short time, so hopefully he didn’t have time to plant more than one bomb. Of course, they can’t be sure. They’re proceeding as if there’s still a threat.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “If this guy was trying to target us . . . or Valerie, why did the bomb go off fifteen minutes before we were supposed to be there?”
“Maybe it went off too soon,” Casey suggested.
“Maybe. . . . I still think it’s odd, though.”
Casey frowned at him. “But if it had something to do with us, someone must have known beforehand about our meeting. How could anyone have found out about that?”
“That’s why Batterson’s afraid we’ve been hacked. Somehow the bomber would have had to intercept our communications to find out our schedule.”
“What if Batterson can’t retrieve his phone?” E.J. asked. “It might be harder to get back into the building than he thinks. I’ve seen the police, and the Feds shut down bombing scenes for days while they work them, especially if they suspect terrorism. I wonder if your boss is a little too optimistic.”
“You don’t know our chief,” Doug said. “He’s not a man who takes no for an answer. If he says he’ll get his phone, I’m sure he will.”
“What phone was he using when he called you, Doug?” Casey asked. “I assume he was already concerned about using a secure line.”
Doug gave a little shrug. “He didn’t have his phone on him. Lost it in the explosion. He borrowed a phone from
the paramedic who’s treating him.”
“Wait a minute. He’s being treated by a paramedic? How badly is he hurt?”
“You know better than to ask that. He’d never tell us. Since he’s walking and talking, I assume he’s doing okay. Thankfully he wasn’t in his office when the blast went off. The point of origin was nearby, however.”
“Where was he then?”
“Down the hall. Making sure everyone was out of the building.”
Casey nodded. “It figures he’d put his people first.” Then her eyes widened, and the color drained from her face. “What about Shelly? Where was she?”
“Who’s Shelly?” E.J. said.
“Batterson’s assistant,” Doug answered. “Her desk is right outside his door.” He shook his head at Casey. “I just don’t know, but I’m sure he would have made her leave right away. He wouldn’t tell me anything about who was injured. Maybe for now it’s best we don’t know any of the details. We have to stay focused on our assignment.”
Casey didn’t say anything, just nodded.
Doug picked up his briefcase. It held all the paperwork associated with their witness. “Well, we need to get on the road. He doesn’t want us to take the SUV.” He gave Casey a tight smile. “He wants us to take your car. No government tags, no GPS tracker. Is that all right with you?”
“How old is your car?” E.J. asked. “Most newer cars have trackers.”
“You should remember my car. You rode in it several times.” Casey spoke calmly enough, but her voice had a definite edge.
There it was again. She was angry with him. But why? She was the one who took off, so it couldn’t be that. Was it that last case they’d worked together? It was awful, but that wasn’t really their fault. Surely she wasn’t still upset about that. Even if she was, why would she direct her anger toward him?
While Casey and Doug talked about the car, E.J.’s mind wandered back to the time he’d spent with Casey. She’d started dating Jared not long after their case concluded. In fact, E.J. had introduced them. The three of them had gotten along well. Almost too well. At one point, he stopped spending so much time with them. It got harder and harder to hide the feelings he’d started to develop for Casey. He still wasn’t certain if she knew about it, or if she felt anything for him. It didn’t matter. E.J. would never betray a friend. A couple of months after he pulled away, Casey and Jared began having problems. Jared told him they weren’t getting along, and he was afraid the relationship wouldn’t last much longer. Then suddenly Casey left town. Transferred to St. Louis. Not a word to any of her friends. Certainly not to him. Jared admitted he’d purchased an engagement ring and was hoping they still had a future. E.J.’s friend was left hurting, and E.J. was still angry with Casey for the cowardly way she’d handled the situation.
“So you still have that 2003 purple PT Cruiser?” E.J. asked after Doug and Casey finished their conversation. “I figured you’d have something newer by now.”
“I love that car. Why would I get rid of it? Keeping it in good shape costs less than buying something new.”
“And you’re sure it’s okay if we take it?”
E.J. saw the muscle in Casey’s jaw twitch, a sign she wasn’t okay with it at all. But always the obedient public servant, she nodded. “It’s fine. It’s parked downstairs. Shauna was going to take it back to my place later today. I need to call her. . . .” Casey’s voice trailed off. “Is Shauna . . . ?”
Doug was quiet as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. We need to have faith.”
Casey didn’t answer, just looked away.
Doug turned to E.J. “We’re going to a spot in Ohio where we’re to wait for the FBI. It’s not a safe house. Batterson didn’t want us to go anywhere that could be traced. Only the FBI and Batterson will know of our location. When we meet the Feds, they’ll take charge over our witness. You and I will head back here, Casey. I know it’s not what we wanted, but we have to put Valerie’s safety first. If we’re compromised, we need to hand her over to someone else.”
Casey started to say something when Doug waved her comment away. “There’s no debate over this. The chief was very clear.”
E.J. noticed how quiet Valerie had been. She was clearly concerned, and he didn’t blame her. She didn’t flinch at the news that she’d get protection from the FBI. Frankly, E.J. felt the same way he guessed Casey did—that the Marshals were better equipped to get her safely to her destination. Yet he understood Batterson’s decision, and at this point he was fine with cutting his time with Casey short. She obviously had a problem with him, and that kind of personal stuff didn’t belong in a serious situation like this.
“Let’s get this show on the road.” After getting their own bags, Doug grabbed one of Valerie’s suitcases while E.J. got the other.
As they filed out of the room, E.J. noticed that Casey refused to look at him. He couldn’t help but worry a little. This could end up being a very dangerous assignment, and everyone needed to be on the same page. If circumstances were normal, he’d wonder if Casey should be pulled off the team. But this wasn’t a normal situation. They had no idea which deputies were alive and who had died. Casey was one of the best deputies he’d ever worked with, and he had to believe she would pull herself together. He was determined to make this work and knew Casey was just as committed. Regardless of their personal feelings, they’d never put the life of their witness at risk.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Richard Batterson held a towel to his face, attempting to staunch the flow of blood running down his cheek. He wasn’t sure how badly injured he was. Flying glass from the explosion had caused several deep cuts, and his back and shoulders hurt from being hurled across the room and slammed against the pop machine. He assumed that was when he’d lost his cellphone. It didn’t matter, though, because he was aware they were vulnerable. Someone had breached their security. The only phone he could trust was the one upstairs in his desk. It was completely secure; the password automatically changed hourly, and he was the only one who knew the pattern and could figure out the codes.
He looked down at his body and took stock of what parts still worked. He could see, he could hear, and he could think. He could walk, but barely. Blood and sweat caused his clothes to stick to him. It didn’t help that it was late July and the heat was already building. Batterson tried to take a deep breath, but it was like breathing in steam. More than anything, he wanted to stand under a cold shower while drinking in as much water as he possibly could. He felt incredibly parched.
But for now, he sat outside a dirty, dusty parking garage down the street from his office. He’d been ushered out of the building by LEOs trying to secure the scene. Police and the FBI had cordoned off a large area around the blast site. The street had been blocked off too. He stared at all the people surrounding him. Some were being treated for injuries, others just standing around as if in shock. He understood. He prided himself on being prepared for anything, but he had to admit that being blown up was unexpected.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the body bags. Seven so far. He wanted to ask who they were, but he just couldn’t. Not yet. Right now he had to concentrate on getting Valerie Bennett to D.C. It was his top priority. After that, he’d find out who was dead and who was injured and contact the families. After that, every second he had would be spent finding the dirtbag who had planted the bomb that decimated their offices. And when he did, nothing would stop him from making sure justice was done. He had to choke back the rage that threatened to consume him. Right now, out-of-control anger would only keep him off-balance, and he couldn’t afford to give in to it.
He noticed the paramedic who had allowed him to use his phone was watching him closely, while still assisting other injured persons. Batterson knew the guy wanted to cart him off to the hospital, but Batterson wasn’t ready to go yet. There were things he needed to take care of first.
“You could have internal injuries, sir,” the paramedic had said when Bat
terson asked to use his phone. “I don’t want you dying on me today.”
Batterson got the feeling that the only reason the paramedic allowed him to use his phone was because a couple of cops stood near them and overheard Batterson’s request. They’d encouraged the paramedic to let go of his phone for a few minutes. In fact, they’d insisted on it. Grudgingly, the paramedic handed the phone over without any further argument, but Batterson could see the tension in his expression.
Although Batterson had promised to get in the ambulance after a couple of calls, it was a promise he had no intention of keeping. Whoever had set the bomb wouldn’t be tracking a random paramedic’s phone, and he needed to make sure his people were safe. He lifted the phone and began punching in another number. The paramedic saw him and started walking his way, probably with the intention of forcing him to go to the hospital. Batterson had just hit the last number when a crying woman grabbed the arm of the paramedic and pulled him over to a man sitting on the ground, holding his head in his hands. Batterson didn’t know these people and assumed they were innocent bystanders hit by flying debris. He was grateful to the woman for giving him time to make another call.
One of the ambulances started to pull away, its siren drowning out everything else. Batterson struggled to his feet and walked into the parking garage. His body screamed at him, and he slumped down behind a concrete parking barrier. When the person on the other end answered, Batterson quickly said what he needed to and was getting ready to hang up when the paramedic jogged up next to him.
“Just one more quick call and I’ll give you back your phone,” Batterson said. He clicked off the phone and stared up at the man, who didn’t look pleased by his proclamation. Batterson wasn’t used to begging, but this next call was terribly important. “Look, I’ve already explained that I’m the Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal for this district. I’m going to have to insist that you allow me to use this phone.” He noticed the paramedic’s badge. John Nelson. “John, I really appreciate your concern for me, but this is important. Lives depend on it.”
