Explosive Alliance (8 page)

TEN

K
rista finished her short break and headed to the playground to resume watching her class. After taking the kids outside, Peggy had stepped in for Krista's afternoon break. She'd needed the time. How she'd needed it. The morning preschool class had been a handful and the afternoon group was unruly, too. They were most likely picking up on her stress, and she had to do a better job of controlling it.

On the playground, she was surprised to find the staff lining the children up at the door. The schedule called for another fifteen minutes of outdoor time, and she needed them to burn off energy.

Concern mounting, Krista immediately took a head count to make sure they were all present, then approached Peggy.

Peggy peered through thick glasses. “I'm glad you're back.”

“Is everything okay?”

Peggy lowered her voice. “Cash saw a man pull up and watch the playground. He said it was probably nothing, but suggested we take the children inside.” She gestured at the chain-link fence facing the road.

Cash stood on the street side of the fence, motioning for Krista to step closer. His defensive posture left her feeling even more unsettled. “Do you mind if I ask Cash for more details before taking over?”

“Go ahead. We'll get the kids inside.”

Krista crossed the playground to Cash. “What's going on?”

“Don't react but casually glance at the vehicle across the street and tell me if you recognize the car.”

Trying not to whip her head around, she slowly turned and pretended not to look at the big black SUV parked at the curb. She squinted in the bright sunlight and still couldn't see the occupant from her angle, but she didn't know anyone in Portland with this make of car. “Could be a parent or even someone stopping to take a phone call since it's illegal to talk while driving here.”

“No,” he said, the concern in his voice apparent in the single word. “It's the same vehicle as the one outside your house this morning.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Same license plate. We have to assume this person is here because of you. Is there any reason someone other than the bomber would be watching you?”

She shook her head, but then her mind traveled to Toby, and she felt sick to her stomach. She'd been focused on the bomber, but what if detectives from Toby's case were in that car? Since Portland had a low homicide rate and little turnover in detectives, she suspected the detectives were still employed and wouldn't forget Toby's unsolved case.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea that they'd want to talk to her again now that she was back in town. It wasn't even a long shot after this morning's news report that they'd recognized her and decided to tail her. Or it could be one of the people Toby scammed. They'd been very vocal about getting back at her for the loss of their money.

And, if it truly was the same car from this morning, Cash could have figured out who owned the vehicle. Maybe this was a test to see if she would tell the truth.

“Krista.” Cash rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Did you think of someone?”

She couldn't share her thoughts, but she also couldn't lie. “I haven't interacted with anyone but Opa and his medical team since I've been back. Oh, and Erwin, too. Plus my coworkers and my students' parents, of course.” She looked away as guilt over sidestepping his question ate at her.

She felt Cash appraising her, but she refused to look at him.

“Then I guess I'd better go have a talk with the man.”

“Be careful.” She glanced at him and, for a second, she considered telling him everything. Only for a second. “I'd better get inside to my class.”

“I'll let you know what I find.” He left her standing there and crossed the road. He was all restrained power and hard muscle as he moved toward the SUV. She wouldn't want to be the person sitting in the car when he caught up to them. He'd reached the middle of the street when the driver gunned the engine and screeched from the curb.

She saw Cash dig out his phone. She suspected he was reporting the car and asking for an ID on the license plate, if he hadn't already asked this morning. If the man in the vehicle was indeed a detective, Cash was about to learn her secret.

With a heavy heart, Krista went inside and threw herself into her work to avoid thinking about the pending discovery. She succeeded well enough to fool the children—and even to fool herself a little. But the minute she opened the door at the end of the day and caught Cash waiting nearby, the worry returned. After the last child departed, Cash joined her at the door. She held her breath, waiting to see what he'd say.

He glanced at his watch. “I'm surprised to see the kids go home this early. I thought you worked until four.”

“I do, but that includes an hour for cleanup and prep for tomorrow.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Good.
He hadn't mentioned the car. “You could clean and disinfect tables if you wouldn't mind.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

She grabbed a spray bottle with a weak bleach-and-water mixture along with paper towels and handed them to him. Their fingers brushed, and she felt a warm rush of emotions. Surprised, she stepped back, earning a lift of his eyebrow.

“Spray all the surfaces and let the solution sit for two minutes,” she said quickly. “Then dry with the towels.”

“Two minutes, huh? Do I have to time it and be that precise?” He grinned at her, his teasing tone giving her hope that he hadn't learned her secret.

She gave a mock serious nod. “To the nanosecond.”

He laughed, and her heart clutched at the carefree sound. Before she did or said anything she'd regret, she grabbed the list of items needed for tomorrow's lesson plans and started for the door.

On the way to the supply cabinet, she glanced at him. The child-size furnishings always looked small, but they appeared minuscule when he hunkered over the table. She watched the muscles in his forearm ripple as he sprayed and the larger ones in his shoulders roll as he wiped.

He suddenly stood back and caught her watching. She expected another flirtatious smile, but he was solemn. Maybe he'd simply delayed telling her what he'd discovered.

“So the two minutes,” he said, looking confused. “Did the person who came up with this actually time it? I mean, do germs still live at a minute fifty-nine seconds or something?”

She let out a breath and shrugged. “My degree's in education, not biology. We follow the health department's guidelines.”

“Ah,” he frowned. “Someone probably blew hours and hours studying this and wasted tons of tax money funding the study.”

“I guess so, but it wasn't a waste of money in my book. I want the children to be in the best and safest environment possible.”

“So do I, but honestly...” He shook his head. “I wish some of that money could go to the military to keep soldiers safer.”

She heard immeasurable pain in his voice. “Sounds like you saw some action.”

He gave her a mock salute. “Delta Force at your service, ma'am. We deployed all over the world but most recently in Afghanistan.”

His tone was joking, but there was more that he wasn't saying. It was there in the dejected angle of his head and the sadness of his eyes. She couldn't imagine being at war. Seeing the ugly things he must have seen. With his honorable personality, he surely wanted to correct the injustices he encountered.

And Delta Force, wow! They were an elite group. Highly trained. That was the extent of her military knowledge, and she'd learned that little bit from a video game Toby used to play. She started to comment on the game, then clamped her hand over her mouth. Mentioning Toby would open the door for Cash to ask questions about her marriage. Questions she couldn't answer.

Cash arched a brow. “Don't tell me you're one of those people who don't support the military.”

“No,” the word shot out. “I respect the men and women who protect us.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“Nothing important.”

He watched her intently for a moment before lifting a shoulder in a whatever shrug. “We should get back to work so I can get you and Otto home.”

Krista felt let down for some reason. As if Cash thought cleaning the tables was more important than trying to find out what she was hiding. She didn't want him to be interested in her or learn her secret. So why was she disappointed?

Because he'd distracted her from her crazy, out-of-control life, or because talking with him as a woman might do when interested in a man felt normal? Which meant for the briefest of moments she could entertain the thought that she might someday have everything she'd once hoped for with Toby.

A pipe dream.

She had no reason even to think about a man. Any man. Not with her poor judgment and the murder accusation hanging over her head. Not to mention a bomber stalking her.

This attraction to Cash Dixon was crazy. Totally crazy. And pointless—nothing could come of it.

She needed to get away from him.

“Be right back,” she said and hurried to get supplies from the hallway cabinet. By the time she'd returned to the classroom, he'd finished all the tables and was perched on the corner of her desk with his phone in his hand.

How wonderful it would be if a man was waiting for her like this. Waiting to take her home. To share a life.

He looked up and smiled at her. Her heart constricted and without thinking, she returned his smile. Their eyes met. Held. The air between them turned electric. He sucked in a breath and blew it out.

That was all she needed to come back down to reality. “Let me set out these supplies and we can go.”

She worked quickly to distribute the items to the tables, and they were soon on the road to pick up Opa. They didn't speak on the drive. A good thing, because she wasn't ready to talk about what had transpired between them. The more time she spent with him, the more she was forgetting one of the most valuable lessons she'd learned—trust no one except Opa.

They picked Opa up and, thankfully, he chatted all the way to his house, keeping Cash laughing with stories of his day. Krista usually loved Opa's stories but couldn't join in the laughter today. She watched out the window for the rest of the drive.

Cash parked at the foot of the stairs and climbed out. “If you want to get the front door open, Krista, I'll help Otto up the stairs.”

She didn't argue but climbed the steps while digging her key ring from the deep recesses of her purse. Cash soon stepped up beside her and took her keys. For a time she was distracted by watching his hands turn the lock, but then she caught sight of the paper she'd tucked in the doorjamb lying near the railing. She jumped back before realizing such a move would draw Cash's attention.

She turned to her grandfather to avoid Cash's intent gaze. “Did you come home at all today, Opa?”

“No, why?”

Not the answer she'd hoped for. Someone had been here. Today. While they were gone.

Fear iced her heart.

She looked around, searching for how to handle this. She couldn't tell Cash that she knew how to set traps for potential intruders. He'd grill her for details of her past. She also couldn't let them walk into the house unprepared.

“What is wrong, Liebchen?” Opa asked.

Opa was counting on her to make sure he was safe. She had to pick up the paper. “I put paper in the doorjamb before leaving home so I'd know if anyone went into the house while we were gone.”

“Back to the car,” Cash demanded without asking for further explanation. “Both of you. Now.”

Opa scurried ahead, but Krista couldn't seem to move. Cash grabbed her arm and rushed her down the steps and into the car.

“Is all of this really necessary?” she asked as he settled into the driver's seat.

“With a bomber after you? Absolutely.” He revved the engine and whipped the vehicle down the driveway. He mounted his cell phone in a dash holder and punched a number.

“Cash.” Jake's voice came over the speaker.

“I need the squad at Krista's house now.” He explained the paper. “May be nothing, but I'm not taking any chances.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the car. Putting some distance between us and the house.”

“If it's our bomber, he could've left behind a package, and we'll need you to clear the house.”

Krista gasped. She hadn't even considered a bomb could've been waiting for them.

Cash glanced at her. “I'm not leaving Krista and Otto alone. Assign someone to their protection duty and then I'll check out the house.” He pulled to the curb at the entrance of a park and gave Jake their location before hanging up.

“Do you really think it's the bomber?” Opa asked from the backseat.

“So far neither one of you has come up with another threat to Krista.” Cash swiveled to look at Opa, then back at Krista. “Has that changed?'

Krista shook her head and gave Opa a pointed look to stop him from saying anything about her past.

“Then, yeah, Otto,” Cash said. “To answer your question, I think it's the bomber.”

ELEVEN

K
rista's little paper in the door finally cemented Cash's certainty. She was hiding something. An average person didn't think to take such evasive measures. Skyler would say that ongoing red flags like this one indicated Krista was involved with the bomber, but Cash still didn't buy it. He was a good judge of character, and after seeing her love and tenderness with her students and Otto, Cash couldn't reconcile that behavior with a person who would plot to kill innocent people with a bomb.

He would, however, concede that there was something more going on here, and he needed answers. Truthful ones.

“The paper in the door thing,” he said, keeping his tone casual in hopes that Krista would quit staring out the car window and look at him. “How'd you know to do that?”

She glanced at him but quickly looked away. “I saw it on television.”

Short and sweet her voice rang true, but he was starting to realize she looked away when she didn't want to talk to him. Not an uncommon action for someone with a secret to hide or someone who was outright lying.

“And you thought of it this morning, just like that?” he continued, hoping to draw her out.

She shrugged, not giving him the peace of mind he sought. He'd try the straightforward approach. “Krista, is there something you're not telling me?”

“I've told you everything I know about the bomb and bomber.” She continued to gaze out the window.

Great. A perfect way to answer his question without really answering his question. He wanted to ask about her marriage, too, and the fact that Skyler couldn't find any record of it to see if she'd also sidestep that, but he had to respect Skyler's decision to keep that bit of research from Krista. If Skyler wasn't pulling up to the curb, he'd have a go at asking additional questions until Krista broke and told him the truth.

“Both of you wait here while I bring Skyler up-to-date.” He issued a warning look that brooked no argument before climbing out and joining Skyler.

“I'd like to take your car so we don't have to move Otto,” he said.

Skyler traded keys with him and held on to his hand. “Don't let this thing you've got going on with Ms. Curry distract you.”

“Are you ever planning to stop calling her Ms. Curry?”

“Not as long as she's on my suspect list. Helps to keep a professional distance.” Surprisingly, her voice didn't hold any censure. She squeezed his hand and let go. “Be careful. Okay?”

“I'm always careful.” He smiled to ease her mind, then jogged to her car and pushed the speed limit all the way to Otto's house, where the team truck was parked at the end of the driveway. The robot they'd affectionately named Wally after the
WALL-E
movie sat on the sidewalk. It held a camera and X-ray machine for taking a first look at a suspicious package. Brady had likely wheeled it out to keep busy and now stood over it.

He looked up at Cash. “Two bomb scares in two days. That's a record for us.”

“I'm not expecting to find anything here. This is just a precaution.” Cash climbed into the truck. He passed Darcie sitting in the medical bay and spotted Jake in the communications suite up front. Cash dropped into a seat by the robot controls in the middle of the vehicle. Someone had already unpacked his protective bomb disposal suit and set it on a bench. Likely Brady, who trailed Cash inside and took the seat next to him. This incident didn't require a negotiator, so Archer wasn't present.

“Let me get going on the initial sweep.” Cash logged his password into the computer and started Wally crawling toward the house. When the robot's caterpillar tracks clicked up the steps and stopped at the front door, Cash used the camera to scan for a booby trap. If someone set a bomb in the house, rigging the door would be an obvious choice that would also be quick and deadly for the person who stepped inside.

“Preparing to breach the door,” Cash called out. He didn't see obvious signs of a booby trap, but it could be hidden and there was always the potential for an explosion.

Maneuvering Wally's arms to turn a doorknob took skill, but Cash's movements were precise. He'd used robotic tools in Afghanistan, but in addition, he, like every other bomb tech on an accredited squad in the country, had gone through the FBI's rigorous bomb tech training school in Alabama.

He held his breath, turned the knob and pushed the door open. Nothing.

Everyone in the truck let out a breath, but the search for a possible bomb wasn't over yet.

“Going in.” He guided Wally over the threshold.

Inch by inch he crawled the place, looking for any obvious devices, boxes or bags. He checked doorways and windows, then double-checked kitchen cabinets, bathrooms, closets and under beds in the master and guest bedrooms. The only space he hadn't cleared was Krista's room. He had mixed emotions about looking at her personal things, but he was here to save lives not worry about his feelings.

He sent Wally rumbling forward and panned the camera under the bed.

What in the world?

He squinted at the screen and blinked hard, but the pistol tucked underneath her bed remained.

Krista had a gun. A gun!
Unbelievable.

“Dude,” Brady whispered. “Did you know about this?”

Cash was thankful for Brady's hushed tone. “No. Maybe it belongs to the intruder.”

Brady rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. Why would he leave a gun behind? If he ditched it, he wouldn't do it in the house, where we could find the gun and trace it. And he's not dumb enough to want the woman he's tried to abduct to be armed.”

“Regardless, keep it quiet until I can confirm if the stupid thing is even real. No sense in adding to the stress level without confirmation.”
Right, that's the only reason you're not telling Jake about this.

Fortunately, Brady nodded, and Cash finished his search.

“Initial sweep done. We're clear.” He sat back and rolled his shoulders. “I'll go in and give it a once-over, but nothing looks problematic.”

“Let's get you suited up.” Brady grabbed the Explosive Ordinance Disposal suit and held it out.

The suit weighed around ninety pounds and had zippers and Velcro straps on the back and sides, making Brady's help a necessity.

“I'll meet you at the house after the all clear to keep you from waddling back here.” Brady grinned as he settled the helmet on Cash's head.

Cash chuckled at yet one more of Brady's easygoing quips. Others thought this lighthearted side was all there was to Brady, but he had a depth that he let few people see. He came from a low-income family living in a run-down trailer and had faced all the stereotypes heaped on his head as a kid. He'd learned to joke as a way of deflecting problems.

Cash grabbed a pair of disposable gloves on the way out, earning a raise of the eyebrows from Darcie. Many people thought bomb techs wore protective gloves, but they rarely did. There was nothing more important to an EOD guy than dexterity of his fingers. One wrong move and...

Darcie was another story. She knew he didn't wear gloves, but he wasn't about to explain that he needed them to pick up a potential firearm. He stepped down from the truck and trudged toward the house. Even a hint of clear skies during the rainy season usually made him smile, but his mood was far too gloomy after finding the gun to let the sun cheer him. Inside, he scanned everywhere, remaining on alert. Even with his vigilant approach, he soon confirmed his initial assessment of everything but the gun. He snapped on the gloves and dropped to his knees by the bed. He shone his light underneath.

A pistol lay near the head of the bed.

Shoot. The thing was real, but was it Krista's?

He pulled it out and examined it. The old Colt .45 was fully loaded with a bullet chambered for quick use. Not something he'd ever recommend for gun safety reasons. He made sure the safety was engaged and laid it on the bed.

Disheartened, he went to the front door and gave Brady a thumbs-up. It would be easier if Cash had a communication device to talk to the team, but with bombs often controlled by radio-frequency devices there was no point in paying for a wireless comm unit in his helmet when he couldn't use it.

He went back to the bedroom and stared at the Colt.

What in blazes did he do about this? More important, why would Krista need a gun—a loaded one at that—at her fingertips? It sure wasn't purchased as a result of last night's attack. There was no way she could've procured a weapon since then.

And if it was as simple as owning a gun like many people did, why didn't she mention it to him after the attack? He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but this omission, added to the other secrets, sent his anger firing. Granted, he had no right to know her personal business, but he was sticking his neck out for her. Was it too much to expect her to tell him she owned a gun?

Brady clapped him on the back, then removed the helmet. “Not a good sign if she didn't tell you about it.”

“You think?” Cash fired off the sarcastic comment and turned to give Brady access to the suit's many zippers. Cash wanted to jerk the quick-release toggles and rush over to Krista to demand an explanation. Thing was, if this gun was legally registered by the state where she purchased it, she had every right to have it in her home. And as long as it had nothing to do with their investigation, then even as a deputy he had no right to know why she owned it. That made him madder still.

Brady pulled a Velcro strap on the jacket. “What's Krista's story anyway? Knowing to put something in the door to warn off intruders. A gun under her bed. Sounds to me like a woman running from or scared of something.”

“She says she saw the paper idea on TV. And anyway, lots of people own guns.” Cash couldn't believe he was defending her. Not when he had the exact same concerns.

“Come on, man. Open your eyes. She's snowing you and you can't even see it.” Brady eyed him. “Or don't you want to?”

Cash shrugged.

Brady removed the jacket and set it on the bed. “Let me at least run the gun to see if she has a carry permit.”

“You might not find anything. If you remember, she said she'd just come back to town. She could have purchased the gun in Georgia and I'm not sure if they require registration or not. Since we don't require it here, if she doesn't take it out of the house, she doesn't need a carry permit and it's legit.”

Brady ignored Cash and dug out his phone while Cash shed the suit pants and packed them in the case Brady had set on the floor.

Brady's conversation with records was short and to the point and Cash didn't like his buddy's gloomy expression when he disconnected. “Georgia doesn't have firearm registration, but they do require a carry permit. I'd like to request that information, and run the serial number through NCIC.”

Cash didn't want to search the National Crime Information Center's database that held records of stolen weapons and ones used to commit crimes among other things. “I don't want to go there. Not yet anyway.”

Brady appraised him.

“I'm not saying this because I have a thing for the woman,” Cash said. “I'm saying it because once we open this door, we can't shut it.”

“Meaning?”

“If we find the gun was used illegally, then we have to do more digging. Not sure it's appropriate to do that without talking to her first.”

“You can ask her permission to run it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you're not using your head here.”

Cash didn't like the fact that she might be in possession of a stolen firearm. But he also didn't like the thought of invading her privacy, or even asking her if he could run the gun's serial number, making him think Brady might be right about his motives.

“I'll be glad to ask her,” Brady offered. “That way she'll be mad at me.”

“I'm a big boy, Brady. I can ask if I think it's necessary.”

“Probably doesn't matter. As lead investigator, Skyler's gonna question Krista about it anyway.”

Cash scowled at his friend. “So why all this fuss, then?”

“Just wanted you to see you weren't thinking clearly.” He raised a brow. “How'd I do with that?”

He'd been successful. More than successful. When it came to Krista, Cash had to examine his motives constantly, and Brady could help keep Cash on track going forward. Not that he'd do anything about Brady's advice, but Cash would at least be aware of his mixed motives. “You did good, man. Think you can call me out again if needed?”

Brady grinned ear to ear. “Oh, yeah, I'll call you out any day.”

Cash nodded, appreciating his friend even more. He glanced at the gun one more time. He had a clear mind now. A mind that told him to be watchful. The gun might only be the first of many unsettling secrets he would learn about Krista.