“Well, your daughter is goin’ to miss you somethin’ awful,” Aileen said.
“And I’ll miss her twice as much. You and Dad spoil her so rotten that I doubt she’ll even notice I’m not around.”
“She’s our little Scottish angel.”
“Mom, she’s American, like me.”
“Okay, okay, Scottish-American.”
“Not American-Scottish?”
Aileen shot her an annoyed glance. “Heavens no. Scots should always get first billing.”
Kat would’ve laughed if her head didn’t hurt so much. “Thanks again for coming to the hospital. Tell Dad thanks also for taking care of Skye by himself so you could come. I hope she slept well for him.”
Aileen laid a warm hand on Kat’s arm. “Never think you’re in this parenting thing alone. The father of your child may be a total loser, but your dad and I will always be there for you. Now I insist on helping you get settled.”
Why argue? It was a waste of effort to try to dissuade Aileen MacKenzie when she’d set her mind to something. Despite living in the US for decades, she’d not lost a speck of her Scottish stubbornness. In fact, she was quite proud of it. She enjoyed bragging about passing on an abundance of those stubbornness genes to her daughter and granddaughter.
Kat let her mother help her out of the Buick and down the walkway to the front door. Thankful that someone had retrieved her purse from the Civic after the accident, Kat handed the bag to her mother to dig for the keys. All she wanted was a cup of strong hot tea and another long nap.
Aileen ushered her inside to the couch before returning to the car to get Skye’s car seat and other baby related items from the trunk. Thankfully, the CHP had removed all of it before impounding the Civic.
Kat glanced around the small living room, reveling in the familiarity of the cheerful, homey décor and the many framed photos of her daughter. She took a long sniff of the unmistakable scent of a baby-in-residence and let it out slowly, releasing some of the tension from the car accident and an awful night in the hospital. God, it felt great to be home.
As Aileen guided Kat down the hallway to the bedroom, her mother’s cell phone rang. “It’s your father again. He’s more of a mother hen than I am. You get in bed, and I’ll make your tea.” She stopped abruptly in the doorway. “I almost forgot. An FBI agent called your cell this morning while you were sleeping.”
Kat froze with her blouse halfway unbuttoned. “Dillon?”
Her mother’s face darkened with undisguised dislike. “Of course not. That jerk better never contact you.”
Kat swallowed hard. Had she opened Pandora’s box by asking her ex for help? “Who was it, Mom?”
“Let me see.” Her forehead furrowed with concentration. “Oh yes, his name was Conrad Regis.” She frowned. “He said you’d contacted the FBI about a problem at work.” She eyed her daughter with curiosity. “What’s goin’ on at the power plant, Katie?”
“Nothing, Mom.”
“Don’t tell me ‘nothing,’ young lady. Someone—especially you—wouldn’t call the FBI unless there was somethin’ serious goin’ on.”
Well, damn. Good going, O’Malley. The agent you had call me from San Diego spilled the beans to my mother. Now I’ll never hear the end of it. At least Dillon hadn’t wasted any time in contacting the San Diego office on her behalf. Did it mean he was taking her concerns seriously? Would Special Agent Regis feel the same?
She sighed with relief. Working with someone from the San Diego, instead of the San Francisco, office meant not having to deal with the baggage of her and Dillon’s past relationship. Regis wouldn’t know anything about what had happened two years ago so Kat wouldn’t feel like he was judging her. Hopefully, the guy was as sharp as Dillon and would help her figure out what the hell was going on at Diablo Beach…and why her boss wasn’t worried about it.
* * *
“Officer Mark Wilson, I’m FBI Special Agent Dillon O’Malley. I understand you worked an accident last night at the Basilone Road exit off northbound I-5.”
“That’s right. What’s the FBI want to know about it?” Wilson asked with a hint of resentment.
“We’re trying to determine if it has any connection to an ongoing investigation.”
“What’re you investigating?”
Dillon rolled his eyes. He didn’t need the pushback. “I can’t disclose that information at this time, but if we decide the accident is related, we’ll need your cooperation.”
His tone was apparently enough to make the officer rethink his attitude. “The California Highway Patrol is always glad to help the Feds. What do you want to know?”
“Was Ms. MacKenzie able to tell you what happened?”
“She said she was startled by two loud pops and a car zooming by really close just before the Civic’s rear end went ‘bonkers.’ Her word, not mine. She admits she probably overcompensated and that caused her car to almost tip over.”
“I understand both rear tires blew out. That’s unusual unless there’s a spike strip or significant debris on the roadway. Did you find evidence of either?”
“Nope. The road surface was clear.”
“Did you determine another cause?”
The silence stretched on, but Dillon waited.
“Got no proof, but we’re examining the car for evidence the tires were…shot out.”
His jaw clenched, and his stomach concurred. “But you didn’t find any casings or bullets at the scene?”
“Nope. But it was kinda hard to search last night with the fog and all. I’m gonna take another look today.”
“Did you discuss the possibility of gunshots with Ms. MacKenzie?”
“Nope. Didn’t want to scare the nice lady. We’re thinking this might be another one of those goddamn freeway shooters,” Wilson said.
“Understood.”
“Is that why the FBI’s interested?”
He ignored the question. “Who reported the accident?”
“Someone heading to the Diablo Beach power plant. If he hadn’t been delayed by the fog, it might’ve been quite a while before the accident was discovered. The guy said he only stopped because he recognized Ms. MacKenzie’s car. You know she works the night shift at the plant too, right?”
“Yes. Anything suspicious about the other employee?”
“Nope. He’s on their security team. Clean as a whistle, just like Ms. MacKenzie.”
“Did he actually see the tires blow?”
“Nope.”
“Or the car that zoomed past?”
“Nope.”
Frustration built up like steam in a pressure cooker. “Was the victim able to give any identifying information about that vehicle?”
“Only that it was large and dark. Thought it was a sedan.”
“Well, that narrows it down.”
The officer chuckled. “Especially on our freeways. Sorry I don’t have more to tell ya, Agent O’Malley, but Ms. MacKenzie was pretty shook up after being knocked unconscious. She kept babbling something about the sky.”
“The sky or the fog? She might’ve thought the fog contributed to the…accident.”
“Definitely the sky. She said it several times. Also, it happened so fast, she didn’t get a good sense of any of it. I’m hoping she remembers more after she’s had time to think about it awhile. Would you like to talk to her directly?”
Dillon gulped. “Thanks. I don’t think that’ll be necessary. But let me know the results of the car exam.” He gave the officer his contact information before disconnecting.
There was no obvious connection between Kat’s accident and her concerns about Diablo Beach, but Dillon’s gut told him there was one. In fact, his body was screaming lots of things, most of which he needed to disregard. Even worse, his Y chromosome kept sending him all kinds of conflicting signals. Those he definitely had to ignore.
One thing he couldn’t ignore or disregard. One point was front and center. What had happened was no accident. Someone had t
ried to intimidate Kat, injure her…or worse.
* * *
Kat tried hard to sleep, but images from the accident kept flashing through her mind. Something floated at the edge of her memory, but it remained hidden in the fog like the car that had sped past her last night. Surely, the driver had heard the same loud noises. Wouldn’t he have looked in his mirrors to see what caused them and seen her car careening off the road? So why hadn’t he stopped?
A chill tiptoed like icy fingers up her spine, and she shuddered. Had that car been the source of the sounds? Had they been the engine backfiring? Twice in rapid succession. Did cars even have that problem these days? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard anyone mention a car backfiring.
She closed her eyes again. The large dark sedan loomed beside her small white Civic. Had she glanced to the left or had she spotted it only in her peripheral vision? She couldn’t recall actually seeing anyone inside or even the glow of the dashboard lighting. Just a black blur racing past. She cringed at the intimidating image.
Her cell phone put an end to her attempt to sleep, but she answered without lifting her head from the pillow anyway.
“Hey, Kat. How are you feeling?” Charlie Lee asked.
She smiled. Good ole Charlie. Always there for me. “Lousy. My head feels like it’s going to explode. Before I forget, please thank Simon Clarke for me. I’m just so grateful he stopped when he saw my car.”
“Will do. But he already told me that you thanked him before the ambulance carted you away. He says it’s no big deal. Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“Not really. The driver who was there when it happened didn’t bother to stop.”
“Crap. I didn’t hear there was another car involved. What an asshole.”
“My thought exactly.”
“Speaking of assholes, Farook was in rare form last night.”
“I can only imagine. He was so pissed you would’ve thought I had the accident on purpose.”
“He’s a jerk. Don’t worry about it. When will you be back?” Charlie asked.
“In a week, hopefully.”
“Well, you take care. Call me if I can do anything.”
“Thanks, Charlie.”
After disconnecting, Kat crawled out of bed to fix herself another cup of tea. Sitting at the tiny table in the kitchen, she cradled her head in her hands. As she’d told Charlie, her boss had hardly been understanding when she’d called him from the ER. He’d complained that he would have to cover for her in the control room since it was too late to call in another operator. This morning, after the doctor ordered her to stay home for a week, she’d left a message for Farook. The man hadn’t bothered to call her back yet.
Asad Farook had disliked her from the day she started at Diablo Beach. She couldn’t figure out what she’d done to earn his disdain, and he made no effort to disguise his animosity. It had really been no big surprise when he dismissed her concerns about the temperature fluctuations as if she were a newbie operator. How would he react if he learned she’d contacted the FBI? He’d erupt, for sure.
She sighed. He’d already given her negative job performance reviews, which virtually guaranteed she wouldn’t get a raise this year, a raise she needed. Honestly, she feared for her job.
And now this. Her boss would find some way to use this situation against her.
She looked down at the paper where her mother had written the name of the FBI agent who’d called. Maybe she should contact Special Agent Conrad Regis. If there was a chance Farook would fire her, she needed to work quickly to get someone looking into the problem. If it wasn’t an equipment malfunction or computer error, it could well be sabotage. The questions of who and why boggled her mind.
She gingerly touched the bandage on her left temple. Thankfully, she hadn’t needed stitches. Although the gash stung, the internal pounding was what scattered her thoughts and destroyed her concentration. Perhaps waiting a few more hours for Special Agent Regis to contact her was the best idea.
Disappointment swelled inside, bringing tears to her eyes. Who the hell was she trying to kid? Pissed at herself, she slammed her fist on the table. She had wanted Dillon to help her, but he obviously didn’t want to. Instead, he’d eagerly passed off the information to some poor schmuck in the San Diego office so he wouldn’t have to deal with Kat himself.
She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged. Tears spilled over. She was a strong, capable woman, but oh, how she missed the reassuring strength of Dillon’s arms and presence, his physical and emotional support. He had always made her feel safe and protected. Even when she did stupid stuff, he’d always had her back.
Dillon had loved her with all his heart. And what had Kat done?
She’d broken it.
Chapter 8
As he waited for the elevator, Dillon furtively glanced around the room. Only a handful of agents were at their desks, working on their computers or talking on their phones. He looked over his shoulder. No one was in the hall.
When the empty elevator arrived, he stepped inside and immediately stabbed the button to close the doors. Sometimes following the rules and proper channels took far too long. Convinced Kat had been a target, he couldn’t wait for the grinding gears of the FBI and possibly the Nuclear Regulatory Commission bureaucracies to be set in motion. He wanted results, and he wanted them now.
When he climbed into his Ford F-150 a few minutes later, he unlocked the glove box and withdrew the burner phone he kept for “special” calls. Once he confirmed no one else was in sight, he poked the numbers on the phone and put it to his ear. After a few rings, silence answered.
“Chaos, it’s Shadow,” he said simply.
“Holy shit!” responded a digitally altered voice. “You still alive?”
He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“How fucking long has it been? Five, six years?”
“Four.”
“Is it true what I heard after the Shadow dropped off the face of the earth?”
He snorted at the apt description. “I don’t know what you heard, asshole.”
“That you went straight, gave up hacking.”
“I’ll never tell. Look, Chaos, I need your help.”
“You in trouble? You get caught?”
He chuckled. “No, but thanks for caring.”
“What do ya need, bro?”
“I want you to hack into a computer system for me.”
“No shit, Sherlock. That’s what I do. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch.”
“Never,” Dillon muttered. “But my computer usage at my office and my apartment could be subject to…scrutiny. I can’t have this traced back to me.”
“No problem, dude.”
“While I get my equipment set up again so I can work from the shadows”—he grinned to himself—“I need you to figure out how to get inside. But don’t touch anything. You hear me, Chaos? Don’t fuck with a goddamn thing. Got it?”
“Got it, man. Where am I goin’?”
“Patience, grasshopper. Once you can get me inside, I’ll take over. I may still need you to be my extra eyes and fingers, but I make all the decisions. Understood?”
“Yeah. Just like in the old days.”
“Right.”
“I just got one question, Shadow. Who the hell am I visiting?”
“The Diablo Beach Nuclear Power Plant.”
* * *
“Thanks, Mom, for bringing Skye to see me. I might’ve shriveled up and died if I’d gone twenty-four hours without her,” Kat said as she cuddled her precious daughter on the couch.
“Skye missed you too, sweetie. Made sense to let her help me bring you dinner.”
“Help? Yeah, right.” She gave the little girl a squeeze. “The stew was delicious, but I wish you hadn’t gone to all the trouble. I have Lean Cuisines and Healthy Choices in the freezer.”
“Those aren’t food.”
“Granted, they aren’t hearty Scottish cuisine, but they tak
e less than ten minutes to prepare. And cleanup is a breeze. For a single mom, sometimes those factors are more important than taste.”
Her mother laughed. “Speaking of cleanup, let me rinse your dishes and then Skye and I need to get home for her bath and bedtime.”
“You’re right.” She glanced around the room at all the pictures of Skye. “At least I have her photos to keep me company.”
“She is quite the camera ham.”
Kat played with Skye until her mother was done in the kitchen. Then she walked them to the door. She gave her daughter a big kiss and handed her over.
“Now you take a nice, warm bath and go to bed, Katie.”
“I will, Mom. Thanks again.”
After locking the door, she trudged into the bathroom and ran water into the tub. As she stripped out of her pajama pants and T-shirt, her body reminded her of the jarring impact of the accident. Even with the seatbelt on, she’d been bounced damn hard.
She was just about to step into a tub of bubbles when the doorbell rang. She smiled as she pulled the terry robe off the hook on the door and slipped it on. Her mother always forgot something.
“What’d you forget this time?” she said as she opened the front door.
But her mother and daughter weren’t on her doorstep.
A man stood several feet away, out of the glow from the porch light, partially hidden in the shadows, intensity rolling off him in waves. Tall. Muscular. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. A shock of black hair hanging on his forehead and the hunger of a wolf glistening in his blue eyes. His handsome-as-hell image slammed into her, stealing her breath.
“Dillon.” The name left her lips like a whispered prayer.
“Kat.” A sound like a slap in response.
She clutched the edge of the door. She needed to hang on for two reasons: Her knees had gone weak at the sight of him, and if she didn’t cling to the door, she’d throw herself into his arms and beg him to forgive her.
All the love she’d buried for the past two years swelled inside her heart and then rose to the surface to steal her voice. She still loved this man more than she could bear. She loved him so much that she’d given him up so he could live his life as he had always wanted. As he needed. Letting him go had cost her dearly, more than she’d ever imagined. Now he stood staring at her, accusation and agony so strong in his eyes that she couldn’t look away.
Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3) Page 5
