by Dee Davis
“She’s with the doctor now,” Annie said, laying a hand on his arm. “She’s going to be fine. Just a couple of cuts and a bruised rib.”
“And Madeline?”
“She’s fine too. And the baby. They’re going to keep her overnight to be sure. But there’s nothing to worry about. Although if it hadn’t been for Alexis…”
“What do you mean?” Tucker asked, pulling his gaze from the rooms down the hospital hallway.
“According to Madeline, Alexis is the one who realized there was a bomb. And it was her quick thinking that got them away from the main part of the blast. If they hadn’t moved”—Annie sighed—“well, put it this way: the kitchen isn’t there anymore.”
“Oh my God.” Tucker sucked in a breath, his lungs seemingly forgetting to do the job automatically. “I should have been there.”
“Don’t be silly,” Annie said. “You were doing what needed to be done. Getting us closer to finding this bastard. And they’re both fine.”
“Is my brother here?” he asked, his stomach still roiling.
“Yeah, he’s with Madeline now.”
“I just heard,” Hannah said, rushing through the waiting room, her hair even more rumpled than usual, Harrison right behind her.
“How are they?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen them,” Tucker said, “but Annie says they’re going to be okay.”
“The baby too?” Hannah asked, the color washing back into her face.
“Yes.” Annie nodded, and the two women hugged.
“Have you seen the house?” Tucker asked Harrison. “I came straight here when I heard.”
“I went by on my way over here,” Harrison said, lowering his voice. “It’s not good. The back half of the house is gone. If they hadn’t made it into the laundry room—”
“I know,” he cut Harrison off. “Annie told me how close it was. But I want to know if we’ve found anything to ID the bomb. Where it originated, how it cleared our security to get into Drake’s house. Anything.”
“Tyler and Avery are there now. Simon and Nash are still on their way in from California. Alexis says the blast came from one of the stereo components. A guy came early this morning to install a new HDTV. We figure that’s got to be how they got access. I’ve been working the cable end of things but I wanted to come here first and make sure they were okay.” Harrison ran a hand through his hair, looking apologetic.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Tucker said, surprised at how much he meant it. Harrison had been with them from the start of this thing, and as such, he felt like they were a team. “Once we see for ourselves that they’re both okay, we’ll head back and see what we can figure out together, okay?”
Harrison nodded, looking relieved, and Annie touched Tucker’s elbow, nodding toward a man in scrubs coming down the hall. “You’re here for Ms. Markham?” the doctor asked, his gaze encompassing them all.
“Yes, I am,” Tucker said, taking a step toward the man. “Is she really going to be okay?”
“She’s going to be sore,” the doctor said, allowing a small smile. “I gave her a pain reliever so she’s going to be a little groggy, but she should be fine.”
“Can I see her?” Tucker asked.
“Are you family?”
“Yes, goddamn it,” Tucker said, his voice rising in tandem with his frustration. “I’m her family. So can I please see her now?”
Hannah hid a smile, and Harrison cleared his throat, but the doctor didn’t miss a beat. “She’s just down the hall. Room 305.”
Tucker set off at a sprint, not bothering to wait for further discussion. The door was open a crack, and he pushed it with more force than intended—the door swinging back and hitting the wall.
Alexis turned toward the commotion, looking beat up but, to his eyes, beautiful. She had a gash on her forehead that had been stitched closed, and the skin below her right eye was already beginning to purple. She sported an Ace bandage around her middle, and there was gauze wrapped around one wrist.
He shuddered, thinking how close he’d come to losing her. He stopped beside the bed, resisting the urge to touch her, afraid he’d only make the pain worse. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice low and husky from the smoke or maybe the medication. “This is all my fault. If you hadn’t brought me here, none of this would have happened. They said Madeline’s okay?” She shifted so that she could see him better, wincing with the motion.
“I haven’t seen her, but Annie assured me that she’s fine. The baby too. And none of this was your fault. Madeline told Annie you’re the one that saved them both.”
“But I couldn’t get them out in time.” She sucked in a ragged breath and closed her eyes. “I tried. I swear, Tucker, I tried.”
“Alexis”—he reached out to gently take her hand, and her eyes fluttered open—“you did the best you could. And it was enough. They’re both going to be all right.”
“But their house,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes, “their beautiful house, it’s gone. Because of me.”
“It’s just a house, sweetheart,” he said, pushing the hair from her face. “The only thing that matters is that you and Madeline and the baby are all right.”
She shook her head, a tear sliding down one cheek. “It’s still on me.”
“No,” Tucker said, squeezing her hand. “It’s on the bastard who did this. Do you understand me? This isn’t your fault.” He’d been living in a shell for so long he’d forgotten what real rage felt like. As soon as he got his hands on the man behind this, he’d break his fucking neck.
“You’re angry.” She sighed. “I can see it in your face.”
“Not at you, Alexis. I swear it. I just want to find the man who did this to you and make him pay.”
The side of her lip curled into the semblance of a smile but disappeared almost before it had time to register. “I can’t do this, Tucker,” she said, turning her head away. “I thought I could, but I can’t. Because of me, your family was almost killed today. I can’t risk something like that happening again. I can’t stay with you any longer.”
“Alexis,” he said, a tremor working its way through his voice, “you are my family too. And you aren’t going anywhere. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, but…” she protested, her lower lip trembling, as the tears spilled over her lashes.
“No buts,” Drake said, striding into the hospital room. “Tucker’s right. You’re family. And we Flynns are big on sticking together. Madeline would have my head if I let you go.” He paused for a moment, his brows drawn together in a fearsome frown. “I could have lost my wife and my child today, Alexis. But because of you, I didn’t. And I will never forget that. Ever. So no more talk of leaving. All right?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his brother’s and nodded, her lower lip still quivering slightly.
“Besides,” Tucker said, still holding her hand, “someone needs to stay here and watch over Madeline. She can be a little headstrong when things don’t go her way.”
“And then some,” Drake said. “And she’s not going to like being cooped up here. But the doctor wants to keep her under observation for a least a day. So you think you can keep her distracted? And let us work on finding the asshole who did this?”
This time the smile was genuine as Alexis stifled a yawn. “I’ll stay with her. I promise.”
“All right, then,” Drake said, his eyes meeting Tucker’s as he turned to go, the black anger there a reflection of the rage that had been building in Tucker. “When you’ve finished here, I’ll meet you out front.”
Tucker turned back to Alexis, who had fallen asleep. He leaned over to kiss her forehead, and she shifted, mumbling something beneath her breath. He started to pull back, but her eyes flickered open, a soft smile forming as she looked up at him. “I love you,” she said on an exhale of breath as she slipped back into sleep again.
Tucker watched for a few minutes longer,
feeling like he’d been given the most precious of gifts, then turned to go find his brother. There was work to be done.
CHAPTER 26
What have we got?” Tucker asked as he and Drake walked into the war room.
Harrison looked up from the conference table where he was working at a computer console. “Most everyone is working at the bomb site or in the lab to try and sift through the wreckage and find something that might help us ID this bastard. Tyler’s preliminary examination seems to confirm a similar MO to the other bombings, but she needs more time to be certain.”
“Well, that’s something we don’t have,” Drake said, his nervous energy ratcheting up the tension in the room. “The longer it takes us, the more time this guy has to cover his tracks.”
“You said almost everyone.” Like his brother, Tucker felt as if he were set to explode, and he knew that he had to maintain control if he was going to be of any value to their investigation.
“Yeah.” Harrison acknowledged. “Simon’s been working with the superstore that arranged the installation. They found the real tech on old Route 22. He was dead. No surprise there.”
“Well, I guess that explains how they got past our security,” Drake said. “No one expects a van from Buy Mart to present a threat. I assume they asked for ID?”
Harrison nodded. “It passed muster. I’m going over our security tapes now. I’ve strung some stills together to give us a real-time look at what happened.” He hit a button and the security booth at the front of the college filled the screen above the conference table. “Here’s the truck passing through security.” He zoomed in on the truck. “You can see the license. It matched the information provided by Buy Mart. And you can see from this close-up”—he zoomed in farther—“that the guy at the wheel was wearing a baseball cap, tipped down.”
“So there’s no way to ID him from this picture,” Tucker said, sitting down in a chair across the table. “So what about after that? Any luck?”
“Unfortunately, this guy knows what he’s doing. I’ve got clear shots of the van here”—he switched to a picture of the vehicle turning into the cul-de-sac that served as home for most of the unit—“and here.” A new photo showed the van pulling up in front of Drake’s house. “Even at the door the shot’s no good.” A last picture showed the man in profile as he talked with Madeline. But, even enlarged, the slant of his head and the hat effectively hid his face.
“What the hell?” Drake said, moving around the table to get a closer view of the photo projected onto the screen. “Look at the hat.” He frowned, waving for Harrison to enlarge it. “That’s a fucking Angels cap. This guy knows who we are.”
“Could be a coincidence,” Harrison suggested.
“Right, because there are so many Angels fans in New York,” Tucker said, clenching a fist. “This guy is thumbing his nose at us. He knew he’d be on camera.”
“It’s possible. I mean, he’s managed to stay off the radar this long—maybe he’s getting cocky.”
“Or maybe he’s sending a message.” Drake observed. “I don’t know.”
“Has anyone talked to Madeline about a description?” Harrison asked.
“No,” Drake said. “She’s still too out of it.”
“They found the van?” Tucker asked.
“Yeah,” Harrison said, “we got lucky there. The guy left it in the parking lot at the Buy Mart.”
“Blinding glimpse of the obvious.” Tucker frowned.
“Well, it gets better. I pulled the security footage from the store’s cameras.” Harrison hit another button and the parking lot appeared, cars coming and going as the time stamp advanced. He fast-forwarded a little bit, then hit Play again. “Here’s the van coming in.”
“Hell, he’s acting like he’s got all the time in the world,” Drake said, his jaw set in anger. “When was this?”
“Less than thirty minutes after he left your house.” Harrison froze the picture for a moment, pointing to the time stamp. “He parks the van in plain sight.” The video started forward again. “But then makes sure to place it so that when he gets out, we can’t get an ID.”
“What happens next?” Tucker asked, leaning forward for a better view.
“He gets into a 2009 Nissan and drives away. We’ve got him turning north onto the highway, and that’s it.”
“Did you trace the plates?” Tucker asked, pushing away from the table to pace along the side of the room, nervous energy threatening to get the best of him. He needed something to do, sitting on his ass not being an option.
“Of course,” Harrison said. “They were stolen. But not original to the car.”
“So again the guy was prepared.”
“Considering this is the first time in thirteen years we’ve even gotten a bead on the dude, I’m guessing it’s safe to say he’s pretty good at what he does.”
Tucker blew out a breath, staring up at the screen. “What about satellite? Any chance we can find him that way?”
“I’m already on it,” Harrison said. “That’s what I was working on when you came in. So far, the program I’m running hasn’t identified the Nissan, but it’s still searching.”
“It’s like looking for a needle in a fucking haystack,” Drake said.
“Only we’ve got technology on our side and access to damn near every satellite out there. I’ll find the car. It’s just going to take a little more time.” Harrison’s shrug was apologetic.
“What we need is a break.” Drake dropped down to sit on the edge of the table, his eyes on Harrison’s computer screen. “This guy has got to make a mistake eventually.”
“I think maybe he already has,” Tyler said, striding into the room, a piece of paper in her hand. “I found a fingerprint on one of the bomb fragments. And I ran it against our databases and got a hit.” She held the paper out for Tucker to see.
“Son of a bitch.” He reread the report, then lifted his gaze to meet Tyler’s. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ve got two verified sources. It’s a twelve-point match.”
“Do you have any way of dating it?” Tucker asked, handing the report to Drake, whose eyes widened as he let loose an epithet.
“No. Latent prints in the right circumstances can remain for years. But the odds of a fingerprint on a piece of pipe bomb being thirteen years old aren’t very likely.”
“So what are you telling me?” Tucker asked, already pretty sure he knew the answer.
“Well, there’s some chance that the print could have been purposely transferred. An attempt to throw us off. But there’s no evidence to support the idea. Which means the fingerprint is recent. Bottom line”—she took a breath—“it looks like Randolph Baker is still very much alive.”
Alexis shifted in her chair by Madeline’s bed. She’d been sitting with her friend ever since the doctor had released her. Madeline was asleep but otherwise fine, and Alexis had been trying to kill time by going over her mother’s journal again. Annie had brought it, along with the backpack, from where they’d been stored in A-Tac’s underground compound, understanding Alexis’s need to feel as if she were contributing something.
So far there’d been nothing new from anyone. She hadn’t seen Tucker since he’d left her at the hospital. And she wasn’t sure how he felt about the words she’d blurted out just before she’d fallen asleep. She hadn’t meant to tell him. She hadn’t even known for certain that was how she felt. But now that the words were out there, she knew they were true.
Alexis blew out a breath, wondering how everything had come to this. One moment she’d been living her life, and the next it had imploded into the chaos surrounding them now. And yet out of all of that had come Tucker. But he hadn’t said a word. Just walked away. She told herself it was because she’d been falling asleep. Or maybe because he hadn’t heard. But in her heart of hearts, she was scared to death that it was because he didn’t feel the same way.
Not that any of it mattered. There could be no talk of a fut
ure until they put an end to all of this. And to do that, they needed to find the bomber and the formula. She glanced at the book in her lap, her mother’s handwriting filling the pages. She was nearing the end, but nothing new had presented itself. Just the words of an unhappy woman living in impossible circumstances. She still hadn’t forgiven her mother—or George—but after reading through her journal a second and now a third time, she could feel her mother’s pain.
Things are growing more difficult with Randolph, her mother wrote. He’s moody and angry. He’s become a different man, and it scares me. I don’t know what to do. George is worried too, but I can’t leave my babies. Especially Lexie. She’s at an age where she needs her mother.
Alexis leaned back, tears threatening. She’d loved her mother so much. And as crazy as it sounded, reading the journal was like losing her all over again. Across from her, Madeline shifted and sighed, still sleeping. Alexis turned the page, forcing her thoughts away from the past. She needed to concentrate on finding something in the journal that might help locate the formula.
Randolph hit me today. Reflexively, Alexis covered her cheek, long forgotten memories surfacing. Her parents yelling, her mother’s tears. It wasn’t the first time. And maybe now I deserve it, I don’t know. But I’m afraid. For myself and for the kids. I hate the idea that my transgressions could hurt them too.
The journal went on for another couple of pages. She talked of more discord. But no more violence. Just of her growing love for George. And her shame at having broken her vows. Whatever had happened between her and George, her mother had regretted the inevitable fallout for the family.
She turned to the final entry.
Lexie and I had a good talk today. I think maybe she’s becoming adjusted to this life. But as I listened to her talking about her hopes and dreams, I realized all over again how much Randolph has asked us to sacrifice. George still says we have to bide our time. And I guess I’ll have to accept that. Although I can’t help but feel that time is precious. And that we’re wasting it.
