Too Close to Home Read online

  “Yeah, with cameras and X-rays and everything. But sometimes it’s just easier to do things the old-fashioned way. I don’t know if I could position him like we need to in this situation without causing more trouble than we want. I’m going to take a look under your seat. See what kind of bomb we’ve got here.”

  “If there is a bomb.”

  He bent down, moved her feet carefully out of the way. She let him do the shifting, keeping her rear planted securely, not wanting to lift a bit of her weight from the seat.

  Alien eyes looked back up. “There’s a bomb.”

  The air left her lungs. Terror set in. “My sister’s in the house.”

  “We’ve already gotten her out and are evacuating the neighborhood. My name’s Calvin and I’ll be getting you two out of this safely. I’ve got to check the rest of the car to make sure I don’t set off any little booby traps and I’ll be back, all right?” He tapped the door lightly. “My daughter’s birthday party’s tonight and I don’t plan to miss it.”

  His complete confidence eased her nerves—a little. “How old will she be?” Somehow, talking kept her mind from screaming, kept her from panicking.

  Calvin paused. “Ten.”

  “What does she like? Her favorite food?”

  “Animals and pizza—in that order.”

  She met his eyes—or where his eyes would be if she could see through the protective mask. “Thanks.”

  Tom spoke up. “How many of you are there?”

  “Four. We’ve got our team leader, communications tech, equipment dude, and me. I’m the downrange tech, and like I said, I’m going to take care of this. Your job is to sit tight and do exactly what I say, got it?”

  “Right. Got it.”

  He spoke into a microphone, but the words didn’t register for Samantha. Now that the good guys were here, she was too busy praying to pay much attention.

  Connor’s brakes squealed as he pulled onto the right street. He’d had to flash his badge at the entrance to gain access to the neighborhood, but Samantha was in there, sitting on top of a bomb. Nothing would keep him away.

  The intensity of his feelings shocked him, the fear crowding his throat choked him, but he didn’t have time to even consider what it meant.

  He stopped at the barricade. His phone rang. “Yeah.”

  “Connor, it’s Dakota. Jamie’s with me. Keep us up on what’s going on with Samantha. I know there’s a bomb in her car, but that’s all I was able to pry out of the squad guy.”

  “As soon as I know anything, you’ll know it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll let Jamie know.”

  Connor hung up and climbed out of his car. Flashed his badge again and made his way over to the bomb squad van. He knew he couldn’t go right up to the car like he wanted to in order to see for himself that she was still in one piece, but he’d be as close as they’d allow.

  Connor entered the van, found the team leader, recited his credentials, and asked, “What do you have?”

  “Looks like a couple of blocks of C-4. Standard military issue. You know anyone with access to that?”

  “Easy enough to get that on the black market.” Connor shuddered. “How big is it?”

  “Looks like two one-and-a-quarter-pound blocks hooked together with wires.”

  “Holy . . .” His legs went weak. “If that blows . . .”

  The leader’s grim look told Connor his assessment was correct. If that bomb blew, it would be enough to blow the car and surrounding area sky-high.

  Connor’s hands shook. “So cut the wires and get it out of there.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  19

  Samantha waited, teeth clamped down on her lower lip. Hours seemed to have passed, but in reality it had only been about forty minutes since she’d hit the redial button to reach Connor. He’d been the last person she’d called and all she had to do was press the little green phone button to redial his number.

  Calvin moved to the passenger side and repeated his assessment of Tom’s situation. Carefully maneuvering his mirror out from under Tom’s seat, he said, “All right, sir, you can get out. There’s nothing under this seat.”

  “Will my moving set off her side? Because there’s no way I’m doing that.”

  Sam appreciated Tom’s willingness to put his neck on the line for her, but she insisted. “Get out while you can, Tom.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Right. But I’m not going far, got it?”

  “Just stay safe.” She looked at Calvin. “I’m beyond ready when you are.”

  “Coming your way.”

  Tom eased his way from the car, hand on the hood, pulling himself out. Everyone gave a collective sigh of relief as he moved to safety.

  Sam closed her eyes, feeling the tension knot her shoulders into hard bricks. She heard Calvin back at her side of the vehicle.

  “Okay,” he breathed, “let’s get you out of here.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  The Agent watched all the commotion going on, and while he was careful to keep an outward expression of concern, deep inside, he laughed silently to himself. They thought they were so smart.

  If they only knew what was under their noses. His fingers tingled in remembrance of placing the bomb just so, watching the door to the house, knowing that he could be caught at any moment. And knowing he wouldn’t be. He was too smart, too good at what he did. It had been a simple explosive device, very basic. Easy to rig, easy to disarm. He’d done it that way on purpose.

  He glanced at his watch, then moved a hand to his pocket. He could just detonate the thing and watch the fireworks. But that would be counterproductive. Not the way the plan was supposed to go. So he’d wait, be patient, and see how it all went down. After all, the car might explode in spite of the bomb squad. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?

  But then Boss would be upset with him if he did that. No, he’d wait. Be patient and let the bomb do its job. If the bomb squad tech was able to dismantle it, and The Agent had no doubt the man would, there’d be another time. Another place. Another opportunity.

  It was as simple as that.

  Tom was safe. Her sister was out of the house. Everyone she loved was fine. She was ready to join their ranks. “Any luck?” She couldn’t resist asking.

  “Yep. I didn’t bother to tell you I was going to cut the wires. But I just finished.” Calvin stood, hand pressed to the small of his back. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  “You already cut them?”

  “Yep, you’re good to go. Come on, let me help you out and I’ll get that nasty little thing from under your seat. The rest of the car is clean.”

  Samantha pulled in some much needed air. She’d been afraid to breathe anything more than slow, shallow breaths.

  “Come on,” Calvin reassured her, “you’re fine.”

  “You’re sure?” It never hurt to double-check things.

  “As sure as I’ll ever be,” Calvin assured her.

  Samantha looked at him in assessment. “I guess since you’re still here working in the profession, you must have a pretty good track record.” She tried to move and found herself stuck. Shocked, she gave a gasping laugh. “I don’t think I can move. My muscles feel frozen.” And they did. Like they didn’t believe it was safe.

  “A natural reaction. Here, let me give you a hand.”

  “I’ve got her.”

  Connor. He was here. Gladness filled her. Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you for another day, another chance, more time to bring Connor to you.

  She practically fell into his arms. And he pulled her close, burying his face in her sweat-drenched hair, not seeming to care that she desperately needed a shower.

  After about thirty seconds, he helped her to the bomb squad van and with a grateful sigh, she sank into the back of it and took notice of the emergency personnel. Ambulance, police, fire trucks. All waiting in case they were needed.

  Thank God they weren’t.

  Tom approached
and gripped her hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Or I will be. I need to let Jamie know everything’s okay.”

  Connor squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve already taken care of it. The moment Calvin gave the all clear.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned her head on his bicep for a brief moment, then stood. Anger flushed her cheeks. “I want this guy. I want to know why he’s after me. Why me? Why Andrew?” A thought occurred to her. “Do you think he knows the members of the task force and has decided to take them out one by one?”

  Connor shook his head. “Who knows?” He heaved a huge sigh. “I do know one thing. I’m going to have to stay away from my family for a while, I think. I can’t take a chance on this nut job following me to my parents’ house from work. I’ve been staying there almost constantly lately trying to be there for Jenna, but . . .”

  He trailed off as a tall, athletically built black man approached them. “Told you I’d get you out of there.” He smiled and Samantha stepped forward to give him a hug.

  “Thank you, Calvin.”

  “Just doing my job, ma’am.” He patted her back and turned to Tom who’d been sitting on the curb near the van. “Glad to see you in one piece.” Tom stood, shook Calvin’s hand, and expressed his thanks.

  Calvin turned to go, but swung back to ask Samantha, “Just curious. What tipped you off there was a bomb under your seat?”

  She answered, “Tom heard the click when I sat down. And after everything that’s been going on lately, he decided to be a little paranoid.”

  Calvin looked at Tom and gave a little laugh. “Yeah. Guess paranoia can be a good thing when someone’s after you.”

  Tom gave a short nod and turned to Samantha. “Hey, I’m going to pass on lunch today, if that’s all right. I just want to go home and . . . process.”

  She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sure, I understand.”

  Tom and Calvin left together.

  Connor wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

  She shivered. “I need to see Jamie.”

  “Look behind you.”

  Samantha turned to see Jamie and Dakota heading toward her. She caught Jamie’s eyes and saw the worry and fear there, but a new strength that caught her by surprise. Gladly, she flung her arms around her sister and hugged her close.

  Jamie clutched her and whispered, “I was so scared for you.”

  “Trust me, I was scared too. But I’m fine. We’re all fine. And not a word of this to Mom and Dad, deal?”

  Jamie gave a choked laugh. “Sure. Deal. They’re getting ready to go on their annual two-week vacation. We wouldn’t want to ruin it or anything. If we tell them about this, they might feel obligated to stay home . . . or something.”

  It was Samantha’s turn to sputter a teary chuckle. “You’re so bad.” But she appreciated the attempt at levity. Now it was back to the real world.

  She pulled away and looked at Connor who was deep in conversation with Dakota. They looked serious enough to cause her to wonder what they were up to.

  Connor returned and filled her in. “We need to do a debriefing at the precinct, give a statement and all that fun stuff. Then I’m going to stop by the café and ask a few questions.” He brushed her hair back from her eyes. “After that, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  Samantha shot him a look that said “Shut up.” Out loud she declared, “I’m fine. A little weak from the ebb of adrenalin, but fine. We need to catch this guy, and if he’s using this place to do it, I want to know.”

  Connor shook his head. Stubborn woman. Admirable too. With his right hand, he pushed open the glass door and inhaled. Coffee, lattes, and cinnamon bread wafted up to greet him. His stomach rumbled in response. “We might not make it to dinner somewhere else.”

  “I thought you just finished lunch at your mother’s.”

  “I did, but all that anxiety and gut-wrenching fear you just put me through ate through every single calorie I consumed at her house.” He saw Samantha shudder at the mention of gutwrenching fear.

  She rubbed her stomach. “I still feel a little nauseous from all that. I’ve lost what little appetite I had. But you feel free to grab something if you want. Do you have the list of days and date stamps I gave you?”

  Connor pulled it out and waved it at her. “Right here. Let’s go figure this out.”

  Samantha began questioning the workers. Connor took care of management. After an hour with no real luck, Connor wanted to howl his frustration.

  “Hey, Connor, come here.”

  He looked up to see Samantha standing next to a uniformed worker. “What is it?”

  “This is Ken. I’ve been asking him about the regulars. This is a wi-fi café so people are in and out all the time with their laptops. But he said there was one guy who comes in all the time. Stays a couple of hours, then leaves.”

  Connor’s eyes sharpened, zeroed in on the young man. “Can you describe him?”

  “Not really. He had on a ball cap most of the time. But he had kind of dirty blond hair that was curly. Long, like he needed a haircut. And he wore sunglasses a lot. Didn’t talk to people much. I don’t really know why I noticed him. He didn’t really stand out, just seemed very—intense, I guess is the word.”

  “Try and help me out a little more. What about his age?”

  “Um . . . maybe early to mid thirties?”

  “Any scars? Tattoos? When was he last here?”

  “No, he didn’t have anything like that, and he was here, um . . . I think a couple of days ago.”

  “Did he make any phone calls? Or just sit in the booth?”

  “He just sat there on his computer. No phone calls that I remember. But I mean, I wasn’t really paying any attention to him. I was working.”

  “What about when he left? Did he get in a car? Did you see what direction he went?”

  “No, sorry. I don’t even really remember him leaving.”

  “Does he come here at a particular time during the day?”

  “No.” The guy shook his head. “Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes evening up until we close. He doesn’t have, like, a pattern, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Do you mind coming down and talking to a sketch artist?”

  “I guess not. Can it wait until my shift ends?”

  Connor pursed his lips. “I’d rather not. We need this information pronto. A girl’s life might depend on it, okay?”

  “Sure, but will you explain it to my boss?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ten minutes later, with the young man on his way down to meet the sketch artist, Connor turned to Samantha. “There’s really no way to track the guy from here, is there?”

  “Not a chance, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, I’ll get someone to stake this place out over the next several days and see if anyone with our description shows up. If so, we can nab him.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Disappointed, Connor led Samantha to his car. “I didn’t eat. Where do you want to go for dinner?”

  Spending time with Samantha reinforced the fact that his feelings for her weren’t just a flash in the pan. The fear he’d felt today when she’d called asking for a bomb squad, seeing her silhouette behind the wheel of a car that could explode at any given moment, the knee-weakening relief when he realized she was going to be okay, all combined to send a dizzying rush of emotions through him.

  He grabbed a soft drink from the refrigerator and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. His parents were still out with friends, Jenna was in her room studying. Or at least she was supposed to be. Who knew what she was really doing.

  He’d knocked on her door to let her know he was home, and she’d given him the brush-off. Studying. Yeah. Right. On a Friday night. He could only hope.

  Samantha had been quiet at dinner, still processing the events of
the day. She’d withdrawn into her thoughts, not yet ready to talk about what she was feeling. That was all right. Connor could relate.

  Ah, Andrew, I wish you were here.

  He stared at his soft drink and almost wished he were the type to use alcohol to dull the pain. But he wasn’t. Had seen the effects on too many people to believe drowning his sorrows was the way to go.

  The knock on the door startled him. He glanced at the clock on the microwave: 9:36. Who could that be? Was Jenna expecting someone? No, not this late.

  Caution reared its head. Too many incidents had happened in the last week for him to just answer the door without taking care. Of course, the person wouldn’t exactly knock on his door if he was going to kill him. Would he?

  Paranoid’s better than being dead.

  His hand went to the gun at his waist and unclipped the strap that held it in place. Tension invaded him, bunching the muscles at the base of his neck. With a soft tread, he made his way to the front door and glanced out the full-length side window.

  Angie? The tension seeped away leaving that aching, nagging, breath-stealing hole in the vicinity of his heart. Hiding his initial shock, he opened the door. “Hello, Angie.”

  “Connor.”

  He stood there a moment, staring. A thousand memories flashed through his mind. Angie and Andrew. He and Jenna. Fun times, hard times. And the funeral. He cleared his throat. “Um . . . sorry, come on in.”

  “Thanks.” She carried a small bag in her left hand. Stepping over the threshold, she walked straight into the den area.

  Connor followed. “How’ve you been?”

  She plopped onto the sofa. “Lousy. How about you?”

  “Yeah. The same.” He lowered himself to the edge of the recliner.

  She gave a small sad smile. “But God is good. He’ll get me through this.” She sent him a knowing look. “He’d get you through it too, if you’d let him.”

  Connor shrugged. “Maybe.”

  She raised a brow and he knew he’d shocked her that he hadn’t outright negated the idea of God helping him. She didn’t address it.