by Karen Rose
“Thank you.” Tom waited until she was back in the kitchen before heading to the garage for his SUV. He’d left the Sokolovs’ block when his cell buzzed again. He answered with his handsfree. “Special Agent Hunter.”
“It’s Raeburn. Where are you?”
“Leaving the Sokolovs’ neighborhood.”
“Good. Turn around.” He gave Tom a new address, literally around the corner from Karl and Irina. “Belongs to a Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smythe.”
Tom instantly understood. “That’s where Belmont’s been hiding?”
“It appears so. We’ve identified the woman whose car was stolen. Kathy McGrail. She was supposed to return home from a business trip this morning, but she wasn’t there when her husband woke up. He called her boss and learned that she’d come home early, wanting to surprise him.”
“On Saturday night,” Tom murmured.
“Exactly. That got him even more worried, of course, so he did a Find My Phone.”
“But Belmont destroyed her phone.”
“Yes, but she had an iPad in the car, and the app identified its last known location as of six this morning. After that the battery died. Get there ASAP. Rodriguez is right behind you.”
Tom checked his rearview and, sure enough, Agent Rodriguez was following him. “Thank you. Do we have a warrant to search?”
“We have permission from the homeowner. The wife was out of town with her grandchildren, but is on her way home. Her husband wasn’t answering her calls and she got worried because he’d texted that he’d been sick.”
“Make and model of Mrs. McGrail’s car?”
“Blue Honda Civic, three years old. Feed from the security cameras at the radio station show it parked down the block when the station blew. We put out a BOLO and got lucky. The car was spotted by SacPD, which is following now. Driver is wearing glasses and a wig, but is the same height and weight as Belmont. I’ve sent agents to back up SacPD, with instructions to intercept the car and take Belmont into custody ASAP.”
Yes. Finally, Tom thought, his pulse thrumming. “Where is he?”
“About twenty minutes from you. I expect to have him in custody before he arrives. If we don’t, do not engage Belmont without backup. I’ve sent more backup to your location.”
“Yes, sir. I’m pulling up to the Smythes’ house now. Will call you back soon.”
He met Rodriguez at the front door. The other agent had a battering ram and together they broke the door in. The house was very quiet, but the scene in the dining room proved that Belmont had been there. Several sticks of dynamite lay on the dining room table, wires and detonation caps strewn about.
“Dammit,” Tom said. He pointed to two sets of packaging. “He bought two alarm clocks.”
“Two bombs,” Rodriguez said. “My money’s on the Sokolovs’ house for the second.”
“Mine too. They know not to accept any deliveries, but we need to alert them.”
Rodriguez was already texting. “I sent a message to Raeburn and the agent he put in charge of guarding their house. They’ll get a bomb squad out there to sweep the property to make sure he hasn’t already managed to get a package into the house. Let’s keep going. Keep your eyes open for the homeowner. I don’t think he’ll be in good shape, if he’s still alive.”
“Can you also let Raeburn know that we only found a few sticks here? And that he could have the box with him?” Tom had done a cursory search and saw no sign of the box DJ had stolen from Kowalski’s garage. “If the box was full when he stole it, he could be carrying a fuckton of explosives.”
They continued searching the house, Rodriguez checking the master bedroom and Tom heading to the side of the house that faced the street. He checked every room, in the closets and under the beds. Just in case.
He came to a halt when he saw the pink camera on the windowsill in a spare bedroom. “This window has a view of the Sokolovs’ street,” Tom called out. “He’s got a camera set up. He’s been sleeping in here. Printers are here, too, including a 3D printer.”
Rodriguez joined him. “I found a lot of hair in the trash can. I think he shaved his hair off.”
“We’ll have to update the BOLO.”
“Already done.” Rodriguez grimaced at the view of the street. “He can’t see the Sokolovs’ front door from here, but he could see all the vehicular traffic.”
“And the foot traffic.” An unpleasant shiver ran down Tom’s spine. “That spot, right there?” He pointed out to the street. “I was standing there yesterday with another agent. We were in tactical gear, but . . . damn. We were just standing there.”
Rodriguez grunted. “You’re charmed, kid. Either he didn’t see you or he didn’t want to risk shooting, knowing we were all there. Come on. Let’s keep going.”
They continued searching, ending up in the garage. Tom pointed to the hair dryer sitting atop a chest freezer. “What do you think?”
Rodriguez made a face. “That we need to open the freezer.” He picked up the hair dryer and lifted the freezer’s lid. “Fucking hell.”
Tom stared down into the face of the homeowner. “Nelson Smythe.” The body was covered in a blanket of ice—except for the face.
“What the hell?” Rodriguez asked. “His face is, like, thawed.”
“The wife got a few texts from her husband’s phone this weekend,” Tom said. “I think he was using the man’s face to unlock his phone.”
“I thought you needed open eyes. Open and alive eyes.”
“Not with all phones.” Tom sighed. “I’ll call the body in.”
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, MAY 29, 12:05 P.M.
“Fuck.” DJ gripped the Civic’s wheel, yanking back into his lane after nearly veering into oncoming traffic. The loud blaring sound coming from his cell had scared him to death. It was one of those Amber Alert tones that made everyone race to silence their phones.
But a glance at the screen showed it was not an Amber Alert. It was an alert from the pink camera he’d set up in Smythe’s spare bedroom.
Fucking hell. The camera had picked up audio nearby.
He hit the alert flag on his locked screen and held the phone to his face to unlock it. What he heard when he tapped the app icon made his blood run cold.
“This window has a view of the Sokolovs’ street,” a man called out. “He’s got a camera set up. He’s been sleeping in here. Printers are here, too, including a 3D printer.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I found a lot of hair in the trash can. I think he shaved his hair off,” a second man answered.
“We’ll have to update the BOLO,” the first guy said.
“Already done.” There was a slight pause before the second guy said, “He can’t see the Sokolovs’ front door from here, but he could see all the vehicular traffic.”
“And the foot traffic. That spot, right there? I was standing there yesterday with another agent. We were in tactical gear, but . . . damn. We were just standing there.”
The second guy grunted. “You’re charmed, kid. Either he didn’t see you or he didn’t want to risk shooting, knowing we were all there. Come on. Let’s keep going.”
“Stay calm,” DJ muttered. “Stay calm. Think.”
He glanced in his rearview, his heart racing faster when he spied two cruisers behind him. They hadn’t been there before. Neither had the two nondescript black sedans.
You got sloppy, he snarled to himself. You stopped watching.
Because he’d thought himself safe. Because he’d disabled the Civic’s GPS.
How had they found him? A search of all the houses?
“Fuck.” Don’t panic. Think.
It didn’t matter at this point how they’d found him. They had. He needed to ditch this car. He looked around, searching for a way out.
His gaze fell
on the box on the floorboard of the passenger side. It still had a few sticks. He leaned sideways and grabbed four sticks. They were bigger than the stick he’d used in the radio station package, but smaller than the ones he’d used in the package he’d dropped off at the courier, bound for the Sokolov house first thing in the morning.
It would be enough to cause a panic, giving him time to ditch the Civic and find another ride.
If not . . . he’d have to shoot his way out. He patted his pocket, relieved to find he still carried Nelson Smythe’s engraved lighter. He set the sticks upright in the cup holder and waited until he had the exact right moment.
He saw it a minute later when a city bus came to a lumbering stop in front of him. Just ahead was a strip mall.
Go, go, go. He floored the gas pedal, forcing a car out of his way so that he just slipped around the bus. He lit the first stick and started to count.
The fuse was two inches long, so he had five seconds.
He rolled the window down. Four, three.
He tossed the first stick out the window, unable to quell his grin when it exploded right on schedule.
People started screaming and cars came to screeching halts. Horns blared and the cruiser lights started flashing as they tried to get past the traffic jam.
It was chaos.
It was perfect.
He raced around the back of the strip mall before braking. He jumped from the car, grabbing the backpack he’d stuffed with his laptop, magnetic signs, and the license plates he’d created, then the duffel with the weapons he’d stolen from Kowalski. Everything else was replaceable.
Calm, calm, calm. Gun in hand, he ran the length of the strip mall, staying in the back.
Luck was still with him. A woman emerged from one of the stores, struggling with the big box she carried. He could see the key fob in her hand as she jostled the box, pointing the fob at a waiting minivan. A second later the side door slid open.
Not pausing, he ran up behind her and shoved her hard, knocking her down. She cried out, but he ignored her, grabbing her keys and shoving his duffel through the open side door. He glanced at her to see her scrambling away while pulling a cell phone from her purse.
Shit. He shot the phone, then fired once more, feeling a pang when her body went still.
Sorry, he thought as he climbed into the van, then wiped her from his mind as he drove away.
He’d ditch the van ASAP, but for now he was safe.
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, MAY 29, 12:30 P.M.
“What’s happening?” Abigail asked in a small voice, clutching her puppy.
Sitting at Irina’s kitchen table, Liza put her arm around the little girl and pulled her close. There was commotion in the foyer. “I don’t know,” she told Abigail. “But we won’t leave you.”
“Never,” Mercy said.
“Never,” Daisy echoed, her tone calm, but she petted poor Brutus with a frenetic energy. Brutus simply licked her hand, doing her job, helping Daisy keep her anxiety in check.
The word was repeated by everyone gathered around the table. It was still a decent-sized group, although most of Mercy’s New Orleans friends had been taken to the airport. Farrah and her mother and fiancé remained, along with Irina, Karl, Zoya, Jeff Bunker, and his mom. Rafe and Gideon were at the front door, talking with the agents guarding them.
Amos, who’d gone to the front door with Rafe and Gideon, returned to the kitchen, his eyes turbulent. His smile was forced. “The federal agents are going to bring in some dogs.”
Abigail brightened. “Dogs?”
“Not to play with,” Amos said, taking the empty chair next to Abigail. “They’re sniffing dogs. They’re . . .” He looked at Liza helplessly.
“They’re bomb dogs,” Liza said quietly. “DJ is still out there and still wants to hurt people.”
“He sent a bomb to Daisy’s work,” Abigail said, even more quietly.
Amos looked startled, then resigned. “I should have known you’d figure that out,” he murmured. He opened his arms and Liza let Abigail go so that she could sit on her papa’s lap. “Ask your questions, Abi-girl.”
“Will he send a bomb here?”
“That’s what the dogs are going to find out,” Amos said. “They’re trained to sniff out the stuff that bombs are made from.”
“They have a job,” Abigail said. “Like Brutus.”
Amos kissed the top of her head. “Exactly. When they get here, we need to let them work.”
“Okay, Papa.” She sighed, a grown-up sound. “Why does he want to hurt us?”
Amos closed his eyes. “He’s bad, baby. Just . . . evil. But Mr. Tom and all the other officers are looking for him. We just need to be brave a little longer.”
Abigail nodded. “We could bake. Miss Irina always bakes when she’s afraid. So do Liza and Mercy.”
The three of them laughed. “You are far too smart, lubimaya,” Irina said. “Come. We will bake. Mercy? Liza?”
“I am so in,” Liza said, but her cell phone began to ring. It was Special Agent Raeburn. “But I need to answer this first. You get started and I’ll help in a bit.”
She went into the laundry room to take the call, shutting the door for privacy. So far, Mercy didn’t know about her job at Sunnyside Oaks, and Liza aimed to keep it that way. Mercy had enough to worry about. “Hello?”
“Miss Barkley, this is Special Agent Raeburn. Are you well?”
“We’re nervous,” Liza said, knowing that he wasn’t asking about her health. “But okay.”
“Good. Very good. I’d wanted to bring you in for a briefing before you start at Sunnyside tomorrow morning, but it’s better that you stay where you are.”
“Has something new happened?”
“Things are . . . in play. For now, let’s discuss your role. First and foremost, you are not to do anything that puts you in any additional danger. You will wear your wire.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You will leave your personal phone with the agents manning the surveillance van. Agent Hunter will make sure you get a burner that you can use in an emergency.”
“Because Sunnyside will break into my locker and search my phone. What’s next?”
“We have custom shoes for you. They have a hollow sole in which you can conceal a small blade that we will also provide.”
“How very James Bond.”
He chuckled. “Isn’t it, though? I assume they’ll search you or maybe even have some kind of metal detector for you to pass through. The blade is ceramic and won’t set off the detector.”
“Yes, sir.” Liza wondered if Tom had told him about recruiting Rafe and decided not to ask.
“Do you wear glasses?”
“Contacts, but I have glasses.”
“Give your glasses to the agent on duty. He’ll be around shortly for them. We’re going to remove your lenses and replace them with nonprescription lenses. The frames will be fitted with a small camera. That way if something happens to the pendant Agent Hunter prepared for you, we’ll still have a visual.”
“I have my glasses with me, so that’s no problem.”
“Good. We still don’t have access to the security network. This puts you at a higher risk.”
“I understand. I’m still fully on board.”
“I figured you would be. Do you have any questions for me?”
She drew a breath, then let it out, all while wondering how trustworthy this man was.
“Maybe I should rephrase,” Raeburn said wryly. “Do you want me to transfer you to Special Agent in Charge Molina so you can ask her questions?”
She smiled at that. “No. I think Molina likes me too much for this. I’ll ask you.”
“I don’t know if that’s flattering or not.”
“Not meant to be flatterin
g, sir. Just honest. If something happens to me, well, I haven’t updated my will since I was discharged. My beneficiary was my husband, but he’s deceased. I signed a letter changing that and mailed it to myself. Please make sure someone checks for it.”
Tom didn’t need the money, so she’d left everything to Dana’s halfway house for survivors of sexual assault. Dana would know how to make best use of whatever Liza left behind.
Raeburn cleared his throat. “You have my word.”
“Thank you. That’s all, sir.”
“Until tomorrow, then.”
He ended the call and Liza went to find her new glasses.
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
MONDAY, MAY 29, 7:45 P.M.
As soon as the Sokolovs’ garage door lowered, Tom turned off the engine of his SUV and leaned his head on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been so exhausted in a very long time.
He sat in the quiet, Pebbles’s happy panting from the back seat the only sound. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, the interior lights of his vehicle were on and Liza was sitting in the passenger seat, lightly squeezing his upper arm.
“Tom?”
He slowly lifted his head to blink at her blearily. “Sorry.”
“Come on. You can have some supper and then a nap.”
“With you?”
“Absolutely.” She turned to the back seat with a sweet smile. “Hello, Pebbles. I missed you.”
Pebbles was wriggling in her harness, trying to get to her favorite person.
“You had to come back to me,” Tom said. “Pebbles would have been inconsolable.”
Liza leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Come on. The kitchen is quiet. Everyone is watching a movie in the living room. You can eat in peace.”
That sounded like heaven.
She released Pebbles from her harness, laughing when the dog licked her face. It was such a joyful sound, he couldn’t find it in him to rebuke her tonight. He grabbed his briefcase and a bag of kibble and followed Liza into the kitchen. She took everything from his hands and set it aside before drawing him into a hug that he hadn’t known he’d needed.
But he had needed it. So damn much.
