by Rachel Lee
The explosion never came.
* * *
As trucks and cars rolled up his gravel drive, he touched her cheek.
“You should go,” she begged again.
“No. If that thing goes off, you’re not dying alone.”
Atonement. He had so much to atone for. A fear he hadn’t felt since Afghanistan, along with an ugly mire of guilt, filled him as he watched the fire truck pull up closest to the house, the fire rescue ambulance behind it. Police cars filled in a loose semicircle.
Not everyone climbed out. First came the fire chief, Wayne Camden, and the sheriff, Gage Dalton. Camden wore full gear, looking nearly twice as big as usual with it layered over cold weather clothing. Jess sat up, resting his butt on his heels, keeping his back to the house, cradling the blanket-wrapped Lacy against the frigid night.
“Where is it?” Camden asked Jess.
“On the porch. About six inches long, plus screw caps. About two inches wide.”
“Did you see anything else?”
“Something was stuck to the side of it. Black. I couldn’t make out details before Lacy fell on it.”
The thud of his heart was nearly loud enough to drown out the rumble of the roaring diesel engine of the fire truck.
“And you yanked her off it?” Camden asked, sounding amazed.
“What the hell else was I going to do?”
“Good question,” Gage said. He turned and started calling orders. A photographer began to take pictures through a long lens from a safe distance.
“Depending on the type of explosive,” Camden said, “it’s probably not a very big charge.” He paused. “Not that that makes much difference under the circumstances.”
No, thought Jess, shutting his eyes for a moment. With Lacy right on top of it, a small explosion would have been enough to kill her. Hell, it wouldn’t have to be much more than a large firecracker.
“We don’t have a bomb disposal unit,” Gage said. “So we’re going to have to wing this. I’ve got a couple of guys coming who know something about explosives from their military experience. They should be here any second, okay?”
Jess simply nodded. “Lacy? You still with us?”
“Yes.” She spoke between clenched teeth. “I’m cold, but I’m fine.”
Jess doubted it, but there was no point in arguing.
“Thing is,” Gage remarked, “most explosives have an aromatic signature. Wayne here has a chemical sniffing device. We just gotta figure out how to use it.”
Jess managed a stiff nod. He held Lacy so tight his arms felt as if they would never unlock again. “But it’s in a sealed pipe,” he pointed out.
“Let’s not hurry our fences,” Gage said, as another car pulled up. “It could have left traces on the outside. Damn it, when are we going to get that K-9 they keep promising us? Look, let’s get you two out of the cold and into one of the cars.”
Jess didn’t argue. He could feel the frigid cold seeping into his legs, and could feel Lacy shivering violently. “Someone’s going to have to help me up.”
At least they didn’t try to take her from him. Obliging arms helped tug him to his feet, then a deputy guided them to a car far enough back from the porch, behind the protection of the massive fire truck.
Jess slid Lacy into the backseat of the patrol car, then just as he was trying to straighten and turn to ask for some hot beverage, a deputy handed him two disposable cups. “Straight from the bottle. Don’t burn your tongues.”
Coffee. He slid in beside Lacy, allowing the cop to close the door and the car’s heater to blast over them. “Can you drink?” he asked her.
“Carefully,” she replied, her teeth still chattering.
“You heard him. I’ll hold the cup but be very careful. You don’t want to blister your lips and tongue.”
She gave a jerky nod. He tested the coffee and realized it was already cooling down. Still hot, but not hot enough to burn. The trek bringing it over here must have cooled it considerably.
He held it to her mouth and noticed that dribbles escaped, as if she could barely control her lips. “We should get you checked out at the hospital.”
“You can do it,” she answered.
God, she could be stubborn. Even as the shackles of terror began to loosen, he felt a rising sense of frustration and helplessness. Why had she thrown herself on that thing? How the hell was he going to persuade her to leave so she could be safe? Toss her out? The thought of doing that clawed at his heart painfully. But clearly she was at risk here and the thing he wanted most was to keep her safe, whatever the cost.
They were going to have to talk, but later. He got the coffee into her, and the car heater began to do its work. Her shivering eased, and finally she worked her arm out of the blankets. He handed her his cup. “Here, I’ll get more.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He climbed out as quickly as he could, trying to limit her exposure to the biting cold. Pulling up the hood on his parka, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and went to join the men gathered a respectful distance from his porch. The sheriff and fire chief, of course, but three other men as well. Deputy Micah Parish, formerly special ops. And two former navy SEALs, Wade Kendrick and Seth Hardin. He barely knew them. They weren’t the kind to show up in his clinic, and most of his friends came from the town’s small medical community.
“If it’s a bomb,” Seth Hardin was saying, “it’s not a very big one. It might have killed the woman because she was lying on it, maybe blown a hole in the porch floor, but few bombs that size have a wide damage radius. It’s about the size of an antipersonnel weapon.”
“Like a hand grenade?” Jess asked. Five faces turned toward him.
“Yeah, but no worse. At this point I’m beginning to wonder if it’s a dud.”
“The cold,” Gage suggested.
“C-4 works to 40 below,” Wade answered. “Unless the cold affected the trigger, why hasn’t it detonated? It’s been a half hour since you found it.”
“Since it landed with a thud on my porch.”
“Landed?” Micah, Seth and Wade all turned to look in that direction.
“Landed,” Jess repeated. “I thought the wind had blown a loose limb. Lacy went to look and the rest you know.”
“Okay, not a shock trigger,” Seth muttered. “Lacy falling on it could have started something, but a half hour? I’m betting it’s a dud.”
“Remote control,” argued Wade.
“If it is,” said Micah, “then he had his chance when these two were right there. Something didn’t work right. Or it’s a dud. Wayne,” he said, turning to the chief, “you have the chemical detector, right?”
“The best the Department of Defense could send me.”
Apparently, Gage’s mind was running on something else as well. “I’ve got deputies looking around for footprints and tire tracks. We’ve got to find the perp.”
As the wind gusted again, stirring up clouds of dry powdery snow, all Jess could say was, “Good luck with that.”
“Go back to the car,” Gage said firmly. “Get some more hot liquid in you and your friend. We’ll keep you posted.”
Feeling utterly useless at this point, Jess hobbled back to the car, picking up two more steaming cups of coffee on his way.
Damn, what the hell was going on? Vague worries had coalesced into an inescapable threat. He couldn’t be sure which of them was being tormented, although he suspected it was him. And he couldn’t figure out how the hell to get Lacy out of this mess because all he’d be doing would be leaving her alone with her fears again, fears that by now had probably grown to epic proportions.
As had his.
His own bravado rang hollow in his ears. He could turn this house into a fortress? Whoever was out there had just proved he couldn�
�t do that. No way.
The last time he’d felt this exposed had been half a world away.
* * *
Lacy was so relieved when Jess returned to sit with her in the car. Her cheeks burned as they thawed out, thanks to the blasting heat, but her shivering had been reduced to occasional waves. She felt able to shrug both arms free of the blankets and accept the coffee he held out.
“Any news?” she asked.
“They’re beginning to think it might be a dud, but they’re not counting on it. Regardless, if it’s real, it’s a small charge. Might blow a hole in the porch. Could have killed you because you were on it.”
She felt criticism in the words and knew he was right. Instead of trying to read his inscrutable face in the near dark, she looked out the window. A moonless, dark night that tried to turn this car into a cave.
All the light came from the vehicles in front of them, and all of it was pointed toward the house and porch. Occasionally she caught sight of a flashlight as deputies fanned out over the surrounding area.
“Lacy...”
She stiffened, expecting him to jump all over her for her foolhardiness. She knew she’d done something stupid, and she didn’t need him to tell her. But he’d better not ask why, because she would have found it impossible to explain her split-second decision to throw herself on that pipe. The very sight of it had awakened a sense of turmoil inside her that she was far from sorting through. That she might never sort out.
Instead, however, he astonished her by draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side, taking care not to jostle her and spill her coffee. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he said quietly. “Please.”
She looked up at him, reading the tension in his face, even as dim as the light was. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “I’m not looking for an apology. I can’t even demand a promise. I’m just asking.”
She managed a nod, not knowing what she could possibly say. Then, with each of them holding a cup of coffee, he bent his head until their mouths met. Cold lips, warm tongues, this was no brotherly kiss. It seemed to drive a shaft to her very center, as if a flag of possession had been planted on her being. It warmed her in ways she had never felt before.
“Please,” he said again, as he broke the kiss. “Please. Now drink your coffee. This night’s not over yet.”
* * *
No, it wasn’t over, and Lacy had plenty to think about, not the least the way Jess had risked his life to scoop her up off that bomb and carry her away, using his back like a shield. She was painfully aware that she’d forced him into that position because of her own action, one she couldn’t begin to understand.
Throwing herself on top of a bomb? That might happen in movies, it might happen in combat, but it wasn’t a sane thing to do and she knew it. Jess had been right to tell her to run for the back of the house. Instead she’d put them both in inescapable danger.
She’d acted on some instinct she couldn’t explain even to herself, but as her shivering subsided and warmth began to reach deeper than her surface, it struck her that she must have opened up an entire chamber of horrors for Jess.
Not just her lying there on what might have been a bomb, but memories from the war. She might as well have taken a shovel and piled them all up near the surface again.
She tried to look at him, but he’d averted his face and was staring out the window. She could only imagine what he might be thinking, but she could feel the deepening tension in him, despite the layers of blankets and jackets between them. She didn’t know if he was remembering, or if he wanted to be out there, part of the action.
You’re not dying alone.
He’d spoken those words while she sprawled on those pipes and he covered her with blankets. They’d spoken about that very thing earlier tonight, when she’d pointed out that feeling guilty about Sara being alone when she died was pointless. Now he’d faced that again, and it was her fault.
Nor had she spared him anything except a journey into places he didn’t want to go. The bomb hadn’t exploded, and minute by minute, she wondered if it had just been a sick joke, although who would be out in this weather just to give someone a pointless fright, she couldn’t imagine. What kind of mind?
She glanced at Jess again and figured he was probably trying to answer the same question. He wanted to know what was going on, what had just walked him through hell, yet he was sitting here in this car taking care of her.
Right then, she felt not only stupid, but very small and thoughtless. If Sara were here, she’d probably be yelling at Lacy for putting Jess through this, for casting him back into a place he’d been trying to forget. And she would be right.
But Sara wasn’t here, not to soothe him or yell at her. Sara was gone and Lacy had reminded Jess of too many losses, too many horrors.
God, she hated herself.
“Jess?”
He turned his head. “More coffee?”
She shook her head and pulled away a little. “I’m fine and you want to be out there, don’t you? Go ahead.”
He hesitated but there wasn’t a whole lot of light in the backseat of this patrol car for reading faces. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Really. I can feel my fingers again. Just go. I know you want to know what’s happening.”
He tilted his head a little and she thought she saw a glimpse of his teeth. A smile? “Don’t you?”
“Well, of course, but I’m not sitting here on the edge of my seat. I can wait for my lecture.”
At that a short, quiet laugh escaped him. “I bet you can.”
Then he opened the door and slid out, slamming it quickly to keep the warmth inside. Alone, she sat holding a nearly empty cup of cold coffee and wondered what the hell was happening inside her.
* * *
Jess rounded the fire truck, and was astonished not to be ordered back. Camden was putting away equipment, and Gage was involved in deep conversation with his deputies and the two ex-SEALs.
“Well?” he asked as he limped up.
“Dud,” came the succinct response from Micah. He was usually a man of few words.
Gage spoke. “What we can’t figure out is why someone would take this kind of risk to leave a phony bomb on your doorstep. He could have been caught.”
“No,” said Micah.
At that Seth Hardin’s head lifted. “No,” he agreed. “We used that tactic, too.”
Micah nodded, his Cherokee face solemn.
“What?” Jess demanded.
Seth answered. “Rigging a bomb so you can get well away before it goes off, an improvised kind of timer. You rig it somehow so that it doesn’t go off until something particular happens. And you have to make sure it can’t be found in the meantime.”
“Like a car bomb?” Jess asked.
“Similar, but this is really improvised. Whoever did this didn’t care when it appeared because it’s a dud. So he could have put it in your porch rafters where you’d be unlikely to see it, and the wind could have finally worked it loose. Or something shifted. After all, all you had to do was find it, and it didn’t matter when.”
“What kind of sense does that make?” Jess demanded. “A dud? Just to scare us?”
“I don’t know about that,” Gage said, and held out a plastic bag to Jess that contained what looked like business card stock. “This was what was on the side of it.”
White block letters on black paper.
Your move.
* * *
From a safe distance away, atop a rocky hill that seemed to have been forgotten by some long-ago glacier, amid leafless trees that had caught a great deal of tumbleweed, the hunter watched. Clad all in winter camouflage, wearing night-vision goggles and heavy thermal layers on his body, he’d be invisible to infrared and
, in the dark, pretty much invisible to anything else. At this distance, he’d look like a patch of snow beneath the trees.
And it was some distance. Alerted by the sounds of sirens, he’d left his shelter and ventured out. It didn’t take him long to realize that his present had at last worked itself loose and landed on the porch.
But the magnification he was using cut him down to only narrow areas that he could see at one time. Enough for a sniper, maybe, but far from the whole picture.
He reminded himself that it didn’t matter that he hadn’t witnessed the discovery. The point was the message, not whether he got to enjoy the show.
It had certainly activated the fire department and police. He doubted they could have handled it if it hadn’t been a dud, which was his whole point. Planting a dud made it unlikely that they’d call in experts from anywhere. What did they have except two notes that sounded as if someone was playing a game?
A nasty game, maybe, but not a real one. Because, in his brilliance, he’d intuited that he could play with his prey in such a way as to make McGregor uneasy, but not give anyone a reason to believe he was truly in jeopardy.
Yes, he thought, he was brilliant. Far more so than his superiors had realized. When he’d called in that air strike on the valley, it had taken out a lot of hostiles. Hostiles that had been unreachable until he’d sent his unit into that town.
Then they’d showed up to be barbecued while they shot from the cliffs.
As for his men...collateral damage. Most had died, then or later. But soldiers had to expect that, didn’t they? That’s what they were there for. Just another weapon in a war.
He should have gotten a medal. Instead the whole thing had been swept under the rug because there were three survivors who might come back to haunt him, and the big brass hadn’t wanted to take the chance. He’d taken care of the other two already, but now he was going to have his fun with the last of them.
McGregor’s day was coming. But not too quickly. He wanted every bit of it to go just right.
And maybe while he was at it, he could get that woman to leave town. Much as he might fantasize about having fun with her, she was just another complication in what ought to be a relatively straightforward action.
