Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  He wasn’t surprised. If the wait for the bomber’s call wasn’t enough to make him uneasy, the tension between him and Krista would do so. He looked at her. Her lips were pinched, her eyes narrowed. He’d heard her walking the floor last night and knew she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Neither had he. He’d tried to talk to her over breakfast, but she wouldn’t listen. Worst part was he understood why she felt this way. Her father had lied to her. Her husband had lied, too, and left her in a terrible position. So she’d immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion about him. He’d likely do the same thing in her situation.

  The phone rang, and she jerked up in her seat.

  “Showtime.” A nervous energy buzzed around Skyler as she looked at Krista. “You know what to say. Do your best to keep him talking.” Skyler hovered her finger over the talk button. “Ready?”

  Krista nodded and when Skyler pressed the button, Krista leaned over the phone. “I have what you asked for.”

  “Good.” A voice scrambler disguised the male voice coming over the speaker. “We’ll meet at Pioneer Square in one hour. Bring this phone. There’s a bench with one slat painted yellow on the end. Leave the item in the envelope underneath. Then wait by Umbrella Man for further directions. Come alone and we’ll make the trade. Bring others…”

  Cash looked at Jake, waiting for him to shoot down the idea of a lunchtime meeting at Pioneer Square, home to the famous bronze statue of a man offering his umbrella to visitors. The large bowl-shaped area sank into the ground downtown, affectionately called Portland’s living room, would be teeming with people. It would be hard to control an exchange and the sunken amphitheater could trap Krista.

  Jake remained quiet.

  “I need proof that you have my grandfather,” Krista said as Skyler had instructed her. “I need to hear his voice.”

  “Okay, old man—” the bomber’s voice grew fainter “—say hello to your granddaughter.”

  “Do not do this,” Opa’s voice came over the speaker.

  Cash saw Krista nearly collapse in her chair. “Are you okay, Opa? Did he hurt you?”

  “I am fine, but do not give this man what he wants.”

  “Sit down, old man,” the bomber said. “I presume you’ll choose to ignore him. One hour. After I confirm you’ve delivered the right information, you’ll see him alive. Bring that cop who’s been hanging out with you and it’s over.”

  The line went dead.

  Skyler looked up from the recording equipment. “Not long enough for a trace, but if he used a cell, I’ll try to get the GPS. Maybe we can wrap this up before Krista has to meet him.”

  “You go do that,” Jake said. “We’ll strategize the exchange.”

  “I don’t like this.” Cash shoved a hand into his hair and paced. “Putting Krista in a space we can’t control is risky. The bomber could easily blend in with the lunchtime crowd and kill her to keep her from testifying against him.”

  “He’s had plenty of chances to kill her,” Archer pointed out. “I doubt that’s his endgame.”

  “We’ll also fit her with a vest,” Jake added.

  Not good enough. “I know I can’t go in her place, but let’s send a female deputy instead.”

  “No.” Krista crossed her arms. “I won’t let a deputy risk her life instead of me. And if the kidnapper realizes she’s taken my place, Opa’s life would be in danger, too. This is my responsibility.”

  Cash didn’t want her to go, but he respected her willingness to give up her life for her family. He wanted someone with such amazing love in his life again. Sure, he had the FRS guys, but he wanted someone to come home to at the end of every day. Someone waiting for him and him alone.

  “Are you sure you’re good to do this?” he asked, giving her an out.

  She nodded. “He has Opa. I’d do anything to get him back, even if it means I’m killed in the process.”

  “If you die, honey…” Cash paused to make eye contact so she understood his commitment to keeping her safe. “It means they’ve gone through me first and I’m not alive to protect you.”

  *

  Cash had hoped that Skyler would be able to trace the bomber’s phone, but it was a disposable and didn’t produce another lead. They’d had no good explanation for the algorithm, either. So, despite Cash’s misgivings, he helped the FRS set up at Pioneer Square.

  The air was crisp and cold, and a fine mist fell, darkening the red bricks. First, they’d cleared the area of pedestrians and cordoned it off using county trucks to make it look as if his teammates were utility workers repairing a water main. The bomber might get suspicious, but better that than risk having him show up wearing a suicide vest and take out innocent people.

  The bomber claimed on the phone that he’d recognize Cash, so he couldn’t show his face. He’d found a hidden location near the MAX train tracks. The rest of the team had taken strategic positions surrounding the square.

  As Cash watched through his binoculars, Krista worked her way down the stairs leading into the amphitheater and approached the drop spot. Step by step she walked toward the yellow slat shining like a beacon.

  Cash held his breath, waiting for disaster to strike. His heart thundered in his ears. Never had fear like this threatened to destroy him.

  He couldn’t lose Krista. He just couldn’t.

  Oh, man. He’d fallen for her hook, line and sinker and now he could lose her.

  She sat down and reached under the bench. He saw her slide the card into an envelope attached to the bottom. She got up and calmly strolled to the Umbrella Man. Cash was so proud of her strength, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to make sure they caught the bomber and brought Otto home safely.

  “Package delivered,” he said into his mic and kept watch on the bench.

  Time passed slowly, each second sounding in his head.

  Finally, a male fitting the bomber’s description approached the bench and sat down. Cash ran his gaze over the guy’s chest, looking for the bulky vest pictured on the flash drive. Found nothing. Good. No suicide vest.

  “Suspect in place,” Cash told the team. “He’s not wearing a vest. Repeat, not wearing a vest. Be ready.”

  The man snatched the envelope. Opened it. Smiled and got up. He stepped to a bike rack, grabbed a ten-speed and started pedaling toward the opposite side of the square from Krista.

  “He’s making a run for it,” Cash shouted. “Go, go, go.”

  His teammates kicked into action, moving closer, tightening their circle until the bomber was in the middle.

  “Now,” Cash said.

  They drew their weapons.

  “Police,” Jake shouted. “On the ground, now!”

  “Me?” the man asked, appearing genuinely surprised.

  Brady seized the moment, grabbed the guy’s arm, took him down and cuffed him.

  “I’ll get Krista so she can ID him,” Cash announced over his mic, then barreled over to Krista.

  “You should have waited before apprehending him,” she cried out. “What about Opa?”

  “We couldn’t wait. The suspect was taking off.” Cash took her hand. Her body trembled as they hurried across the bricks.

  The closer they came to the suspect, the more her hand shook.

  “Turn him around, Brady,” Cash directed.

  The guy pivoted.

  Krista clutched her chest. “It’s not him. Oh, no. No, no, no. We have the wrong guy and the bomber’s going to kill Opa.”

  A slash of anguish cut into Cash. “Who sent you?” he shouted at the suspect.

  He shrugged. “Don’t know his name and didn’t see the guy.”

  “You expect me to believe you don’t know him?”

  “I was hired from Craigslist to pick up the package. We handled everything via email. Honest. You can look at my phone if you don’t believe me.”

  “Why would we believe you?” Cash started for the creep and planned to make him talk.

  Skyler stepped forward and cast a warni
ng look at Cash, telling him to back off. “I’ll haul him down to County to get to the bottom of this. We’ll track these supposed phone and email contacts. Hopefully it will lead to our bomber.”

  “Dude,” the guy said, “is this really about a bomber?”

  Skyler nodded.

  “How cool is that?”

  “Not cool at all.” She grabbed the man’s handcuffs. “Let’s go.”

  Skyler and Brady departed with the suspect, who dragged his feet. The rest of the team stood by, but none of them offered an idea of how to find Otto—the sweet, kind man who didn’t deserve to be held hostage. Cash felt powerless to help Krista and he knew he was letting her down. As he’d let down his Delta team. The helpless feeling made his gut hurt.

  She suddenly clutched his arm. “We could use the phone the bomber left to call him. I could redial the last number called.”

  “I doubt he’ll answer.”

  “I have to try.” Krista dialed and lifted the phone to her ear.

  The team members watched, all of them eagerly awaiting the result.

  Krista listened intently, then frowned. “The number’s no longer in service.” She turned in a circle, her eyes wide with worry. “We have to do something before he kills Opa.”

  “I’m sorry, Krista,” Jake said. “But all we can do right now is head back to County and hope Skyler finds something in those emails.”

  “We can pray,” Cash offered, surprising himself. “Pray for Otto’s safety and that the bomber calls again.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Cash settled into his makeshift bed on Krista’s couch and checked his service weapon to make sure it was loaded and ready, then rested it on his chest and propped an arm behind his head. Time had passed slowly—painfully—today without a call from the bomber or any leads from Skyler’s investigation. Everyone on the team had come to care for Otto and their concern for his well-being mounted.

  Then there was Krista. She was near hysterics and wouldn’t let Cash offer any comfort. She was still mad at him for talking to the detective. He’d wanted to explain the misunderstanding, but he didn’t want to bring it up and add additional turmoil to her life.

  He sighed out his frustration and snapped off the light. He heard the wind jostling the trees. The usual rain hitting the windows. Krista moving around in her room, not settling down until 2:00 a.m. Hopefully, she’d get some rest, but Cash doubted it.

  His phone rang from the table, and he shot to his feet. Jake’s name appeared on the screen. Worry ramping up, Cash answered.

  “We received a callout for a bomb threat at a construction company.” Jake gave the address. “We need you to meet us there.”

  “I can’t leave Krista alone,” Cash said, though as the only bomb tech on the team, he had to go or someone else could die.

  “Brady’s already en route to relieve you. Should be on your doorstep any minute.”

  “Then I’m on my way.” Cash hung up and went down the hall to Krista’s room. He knocked on the door.

  She opened it, wearing a big fluffy robe.

  He told her about the bomb. “I have to go.”

  Fear shone plainly on her face, touching Cash’s heart.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Brady will stay with you.”

  “I’m not worried about me. It’s you… You could… A bomb.”

  “You’re worried about me?”

  She nodded and looked down at her feet.

  He crooked a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. “You know I meant no harm in calling Eason, right? I wanted to help you.”

  She didn’t say anything, but kept her gaze riveted to him.

  “I get that after Toby lied to you, and you don’t trust easily. I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove you can trust me.” He touched her cheek. Felt the softness. Saw the look of indecision in her eyes. A callout could go badly. Each event was a risk. If something bad happened, this wasn’t how he wanted to remember her.

  “I care about you, Krista,” he whispered and before she could stop him, he swooped in to kiss her.

  As he put every emotion he’d been battling into the kiss, he heard pounding on the front door. He lifted his head. Krista opened her eyes. They were soft, dreamy and filled with longing.

  Oh, yeah, this was better. So much better. This was how he wanted to remember her if things went south.

  “I’ll let Brady in.” He kissed her again, quickly but decisively, before answering the door. A sleepy Brady stood yawning and scratching his head.

  “You stay alert.” Cash poked his friend in the chest. “No snoozing on the job.”

  “I got this. A cup of coffee and I’m good to go.”

  “You’ll have to answer to me if anything goes wrong here.” Cash let his warning look linger until he was certain Brady took his responsibility seriously. “Call me if anything, and I mean anything, happens.”

  “Like I said, I got it. So keep your mind on the bomb not on us.”

  Cash jogged down the steps and soon had his car on the road. He wasn’t surprised to see the construction office was nothing more than a double-wide trailer sitting on blocks. The FRS truck was parked at the end of the driveway, well away from the trailer for safety. Wally the robot sat outside, and Jake stood near the FRS truck talking with Skyler.

  Cash crossed over to them. “What do we have?”

  “The owner’s inside strapped to a chair and wearing a suicide vest with a timer ticking down.” Jake ground his teeth.

  “A vest?” Cash let the thought ruminate. “Like the vest on the bomber’s flash drive?”

  “Let’s focus on rendering this bomb safe before talking about any connection to Krista,” Jake said.

  “You don’t need any distractions,” Skyler added.

  Jake looked at his watch. “According to the 911 call made by the worker who found the owner, we have less than thirty minutes on the timer. The owner—Upjohn—said there weren’t any other devices inside.”

  “I still need to check it out. Let me get Wally going.” Cash climbed into the truck and soon had the robot on the move. After a thorough search of the building’s exterior, Cash sent Wally inside and panned the room with his camera, finally settling on Upjohn. He sat in a metal chair, his hands tied behind, his feet strapped to the legs of the chair. Cash looked for a remote detonator in Upjohn’s hands, near his feet, his knees, anywhere he could simply press a device. Cash had to make sure this wasn’t a suicide mission meant to take out a bomb tech. Namely him.

  After a thorough search, Cash was confident it was safe to enter the building. He climbed into his suit with Skyler’s help.

  When she’d fixed the last Velcro strap, she patted him on the shoulder. “Take care in there.”

  He nodded and she settled the helmet on his head. He crossed the lot to the trailer. Giving Upjohn a thumbs-up as he approached, Cash once again confirmed the lack of remotes, then checked to be certain there wasn’t a pressure device keeping Upjohn in the chair. Believing it safe to proceed, he turned his attention to the vest. The device had similarities in materials and design to the stadium bomb. It also matched the schematics they’d looked at last night minus the handheld trigger, but Cash couldn’t focus on that with only ten minutes left on the timer.

  He went to work, finishing his job with three minutes to spare. He unstrapped the device and gently set it on the floor. He helped Upjohn to his feet and pointed at the exit. The man literally ran for the door. Cash had to move slower. Darcie already had Upjohn sitting on the truck bumper with a blood pressure cuff attached to his arm by the time Cash reached them.

  Skyler helped Cash shed his suit. He gestured for Jake and Skyler to join him out of Upjohn’s hearing range. “Before you call MEDU to dispose of the explosives, you should know I believe the device was made by the stadium bomber.”

  “Believe?” Skyler asked.

  “Can never be positive from a visual inspection, but the similarities can’t be overlooked. With Otto m
issing, we can’t afford to wait for an analysis to confirm it.”

  Jake furrowed his brow. “We need to question Upjohn.”

  Cash’s feeling exactly, and he wasted no time heading back to the man.

  “Is he good to answer a few questions?” Cash asked Darcie.

  She looked at Upjohn. “Mr. Upjohn—”

  “Would you people quit calling me that?” he interrupted. “Name’s Steve.”

  Darcie smiled at him. “Steve is doing remarkably well.”

  “Not like I haven’t been around explosives before.”

  Cash admired the man’s attitude. “What can you tell us about the person who strapped you into the vest?”

  “White guy. Skinny. Maybe six feet. Wore a ski mask. His eyes were this weird blue color. Almost gray.”

  Skyler brought up the bomber’s sketch on her phone and handed it to Steve. “This the guy?”

  “Could be, but with the mask, I can’t be sure.”

  “What are you sure of?” Cash asked.

  “I’m sure he hated me. Glared at me the whole time. That’s why I remember his eyes so well. Said I would pay for my carelessness on the stadium renovation.”

  “Stadium,” Skyler said. “What stadium?”

  “It’s Providence Park now but it was Jeld-Wen Field when we worked on the renovation. As far as carelessness goes…” He shook his head. “Only thing I can think this guy is talking about is one of our workers hurt his back in an explosion and ended up disabled. OSHA cleared us. It was just a freak accident.”

  Skyler pulled out her notebook. “Do you remember the guy’s name?”

  “Hugo Ketchum.”

  Skyler’s eyes lit up. “You’re sure about the name?”

  “Yeah. He worked for me for ten years. Was a hard worker, and I was sorry to see him go, but the back injury disabled him permanently.” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t even blame him when he sued the company and the stadium. Probably would’ve done the same thing if I was in his shoes. But as I said, we were cleared of any negligence.”