Striking Distance (27 page)

“Why would he go after Javier?”

“We can only speculate,” Zach said. “Given that Corbray was featured alongside you in news coverage of the sniper attack, perhaps he felt that getting Corbray out of the way might make it easier for him to get to you. We’re sending the weapons in to ballistics for testing and should have an answer by tomorrow.”

“Wait a sec.” Javier looked confused. “Are you saying
this guy
is our sniper? I just can’t believe that he could miss Laura’s head by less than an inch from more than two hundred yards and then almost miss me when he was standing just fifteen feet away.”

Zach shook his head. “There’s more. We did an extensive background check on him. He served two deployments as an RTO—a radio telephone operator—with the army infantry in Iraq. His first was in 2007, while you were there, Laura. He suffered a traumatic brain injury near the end of his second deployment and was given a medical discharge. What we found more interesting was the fact that he was disciplined for his involvement in a protection racket. It seems that he and a few of his fellow soldiers were shaking down residents in a neighborhood in Baghdad. You broke that story, Laura.”

Sean Michael Edwards.

Laura’s heart gave a hard knock.
“Oh, my God.”

She tried to remember the details of the investigation. It had been so long ago. Four soldiers had run a shakedown racket against residents of one Baghdad neighborhood, promising protection in exchange for money and other favors—cigarettes, liquor, sex. She’d been tipped off by a woman, a pediatrician, who lived in that neighborhood and had filmed the soldiers looting with her phone. They’d been disciplined—each of them sentenced to fines and a reduction in rank.

She glanced down at the photo again, his face that of a stranger. “His name sounded familiar, but I didn’t make the connection. I don’t recognize him at all.”

Javier looked down at the photo again. “A lot of us felt those guys got off easy. They should have gone to prison.”

Zach looked from Laura to Javier. “Clearly, this connection constitutes a motive for murder. We took the liberty of looking up the other soldiers who were a part of that scheme. One—Theodore Kimball—was reported MIA and declared dead not long after Laura’s investigation. The other two—Paul Mortimer and Tyler Robb—are in Miami and Detroit. We looked into them, but neither of them has been to Colorado, so it looks like Edwards was carrying this grudge on his own.”

Javier pointed to Edwards again. “So this guy is one of the soldiers Laura busted with that investigation, and he wanted revenge. I get that. But what I don’t get is where Derek Tower fits in—or how the guy I shot could be connected to Ali Al Zahrani.”

And then Laura felt pieces fall into place, insight riding on a surge of adrenaline. “He isn’t. I think Ali Al Zahrani was framed.”

The two men stared at her.

Javier spoke first. “I know you care about what happened to this kid, but you’ve got to have strong evidence to say something like that.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got a feeling you’ve been investigating this on your own. Maybe you should start talking.”

CHAPTER

25

JAVIER WAITED WITH
McBride for Laura to explain. When in the hell had she reached this conclusion? She hadn’t said a word about it to him.

She sat up straighter and looked from him to McBride. “You should know that I won’t divulge my sources, so don’t even ask.”

McBride’s gaze grew hard. “I could subpoena that information under federal law, and the state’s journalism shield law wouldn’t protect you. You’d be forced by the court to divulge your sources or face prison time.”

She nodded. “It wouldn’t do you any good. I’d choose prison.”

The two of them sat in silence, their gazes locked, and Javier knew they both meant what they’d said, the tension between them seeming to fill the room.

It was McBride who blinked. “I don’t want to go that route. Just be sure you don’t impede our investigation or give the wrong information to the wrong person. Then I might not have a choice.”

“I understand.” She excused herself and went to get her notebook from her office, then sat beside Javier again and glanced through what she’d written. “I reviewed all the available documents on Ali Al Zahrani, and I discovered that he could not have made those incriminating Internet searches.”

“Why do you say that?” McBride asked. “They were on his computer. They all originated at his IP address. No other prints were found on his keyboard or his computer.”

“I’m aware of all of that. Just hear me out.” Laura began to explain. “Ali worked at his uncle’s halal grocery store after class every weekday afternoon except Fridays and all day on the weekends. His uncle says he was very dedicated and never missed a day. He also said Ali didn’t leave during his shifts. The Internet searches began abruptly two months ago. They all originated from his home IP address, but here’s the problem. They all occurred during hours when he was known to be at work—never on Fridays when the store is closed and never on weekends when his parents were home.”

That
was
strange.

“Are you sure?” There was a note of doubt in McBride’s voice.

“I went through the documents four times, checked each and every search. But there’s more.” She looked at her notes. “The terrorism-related searches were all saved in a browser under a different user identity on his computer. Investigators probably think that serves to incriminate him because it looks like he was trying to hide his activity from his parents. But what if someone was trying to hide those searches from
him
?”

“You got any proof of that?” McBride asked.

“No,” she admitted. “But stay with me for a minute, okay?”

“I’m listening.”

As Laura went on, Javier felt himself growing more impressed with her intel abilities. None of the evidence she presented was the obvious sort that would have jumped out at investigators. It required some thought. Like the fact that the kid’s browser had recorded searches pertaining only to explosives, jihad, and terrorism—no T&A, no music, no sports, nothing about Laura or Al-Nassar. And the fact that Ali had visited some of the sites for only a handful of seconds—just long enough for the page to load—before he’d apparently moved on.

“I read fast,” Laura said, “but even I can’t absorb the content of a web page in a single glance.”

McBride was still playing devil’s advocate, but it was clear to Javier that he saw where she was going with this. “Maybe he was downloading the pages to a flash drive that we haven’t found. Or maybe he was printing them. There could easily be a logical explanation.”

“If you find one, let me know.” Laura looked down at her notes again. “As I see it, there are two possibilities. Either his uncle is lying and Ali wasn’t at the store when he was supposed to be, or someone else was using his computer during hours when no one in the family was home, creating an Internet history to make him seem guilty.”

“You’re forgetting that the explosives were found in his car, along with his body,” McBride added.

“True.” She frowned and seemed to mull this over. “What if that setup was just another part of the plot to leave the blame at Ali’s feet? Investigators found no trace of explosives at the Al Zahrani home. If he’d actually built the bomb, wouldn’t they have found
something
? And don’t forget that he’d been dead for hours before the explosion. Someone might have set him up to look guilty and then murdered him to put both him and his car at the center of the crime. What better way to hide a motive than to make it look like the explosion was the result of Al-Nassar’s call to kill me?”

The hair stood up on Javier’s neck, his instincts telling him she was right. “What you’re saying is that the kid might not have had anything to do with this.”

Laura nodded. “When I realized that he couldn’t have been responsible for those Internet searches, I began to wonder. Now that we have Edwards here, I’m almost certain.”

“I don’t often find myself in the position of defending the FBI,” McBride said, “but don’t you think they’ve checked into some of this?”

“I have no idea.” Laura shrugged. “Why would they? A VBIED goes off outside the newspaper near my window a short time after Al-Nassar called on his followers to kill me. A young Muslim man is found in the car, making the blast look like a suicide bombing. The suspect’s computer reveals a browsing history of do-it-yourself bomb and terrorism sites. In other words, investigators found
exactly
what they expected to find. Why dig any further?”

McBride seemed to consider this.

Laura went on. “They have a dead body, a car packed with explosives, and these Internet searches. But they don’t know where the ANFO was mixed. They can’t find any ties between Ali and any known terrorist elements. They can’t explain why he was shot before the bomb went off or find the man who killed him and detonated the explosives. They’re ignoring the missing and contradictory evidence because the rest of it fits together so nicely.”

Javier’s gaze dropped from Laura to the photo of the man he’d killed yesterday, Laura’s theory opening up all kinds of new possibilities. “Maybe this has nothing to do with Al-Nassar at all.”

For a moment, there was silence.

McBride chuckled. “I can’t wait to see Agent Petras’s face when I go over this with him. I can’t stand that son of a bitch.”

Neither could Javier. “That makes two of us, bro.”

“So you’ll take this to the task force?” Laura asked.

“You’ve painted a compelling picture. I’m impressed. Yesterday’s shooting adds weight to your theory. You bet I’m taking it to the task force.”

“Do you think they’ll listen?”

McBride grinned. “I’m the chief deputy U.S. Marshal for the Colorado territory. They have no choice
but
to listen.”

* * *

THE MEETING WITH
Zach had left Laura on edge. It wasn’t just the revelation that a man she’d exposed five years ago had tried to kill Javier and might have been behind the plot to kill her, too. It was also the investigation of Ali Al Zahrani. Her mind kept drifting back to the boy—and the horrible thought that he might have been murdered just to serve as a kind of decoy.

She did her best to focus on her work, answering a few e-mails from Tom and Syd and reviewing her questions for her interview with the regional VA director. The interview itself turned out to be as unrevealing as it was brief. She’d just hung up the phone when Javier came up behind her, his big hands resting on her shoulders.

“How did it go?”

“Short and uninformative.” Laura swiveled her chair and stood, sliding into his embrace. “He basically read me a press release over the phone and then declined to say anything else. I might as well have interviewed a rock.”

“I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” He smiled down at her. “You’ve got company.”

She found Sophie, Matt, Alex, Kat, Joaquin, Holly, and Megan whispering together in the living room, carryout Thai food spread out in containers across her coffee table.

“Surprise!” Sophie gave Laura a bright smile. “We brought lunch for you both.”

Laura felt a swell of happiness to see them, even Alex.

Javier leaned down and spoke for Laura’s ears alone. “You have a good time with your friends. Mind if I borrow your computer to catch up on e-mail?”

“Feel free. The browser should be open.”

He thanked Sophie and the others for the food, then disappeared down the hallway. Laura soon found herself enjoying panang curry with chicken, spring rolls, and rice—and catching up with her coworkers about events at the paper.

Repairs had been completed so that no one could tell there’d ever been a car bomb. The cafeteria’s new healthier lunch menu had everyone in an uproar—everyone except Holly, who said she no longer had to feel jealous of what the others were eating. Matt and Tom had gotten into a blowout in the newsroom over a headline. Alex had been roughed up by a few members of a prison gang who were living on the outside and hadn’t appreciated his questions. Kat and Gabe would be leaving for two weeks on the Navajo reservation to help with the
kinaalda
, or coming-of-age ceremony, of one of Kat’s nieces. Joaquin had put together a photo spread of some of the working girls from Candy’s, but the publisher and Tom were fighting over whether the package could run, given what the women did for a living.

“It’s bullshit, man.” Joaquin was clearly furious. “Since when is our job only to pass on G-rated news?”

This led to a long discussion about editorial autonomy.

Then Megan announced that she’d been accepted into law school.

Laura felt a rush of joy for her. “Oh, that’s wonderful! When do classes start?”

“They start in August, but I’ve got a reading list that I’m going to work through this spring and summer.”

Megan talked a bit about her plans after graduating, how she planned to open a resource center that provided guidance and support to women who were being released on parole in hopes that fewer of them would wind up behind bars again.

Laura was struck by Megan’s courage, her moral fiber. “What a beautiful way to turn your own suffering into something positive.”

“How are you doing, Laura?” Sophie asked. “We all know what happened to Javier yesterday. I’m so glad he wasn’t seriously hurt.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Alex stood. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Down the hall and on your left.” Laura returned to Sophie’s question. “I’m fine, I guess. I was pretty shaken up when I heard. I’m just glad Javier was able to defend himself. If he hadn’t been armed . . .”

She didn’t want to think about that.

“Do they have any idea why this guy tried to shoot him?” Matt asked. “It must be related to the attacks on you, right?”

And Laura remembered that her friends were reporters.

She answered carefully. “We assume so, but we don’t know anything for sure.”

Holly leaned forward, looking gorgeous in a blue and white Prada print suit. “So have you and your sexy SEAL
reconnected
?”

“Holly!” Sophie rolled her eyes.

Kat looked up from her lunch. “That’s your business, Laura, not ours. Please don’t feel you need to answer.”

Then Laura heard Javier’s voice.

“Hey, get the hell out of here. Are you wearing a wire, man?”

She set her plate on the coffee table and hurried down the hallway to find Javier standing face-to-face with Alex in the doorway to her office, his fists clenched.

“What’s going on?”

“I was sitting at your computer, and he walks in, starts asking questions about the shooting, pretending to give a shit. I look up to find him looking over my shoulder at the files on your desk, and I start asking myself whether he’s just talking to me because he’s your friend or whether he’s trying to grab a quote.”

Laura took one look at Alex, and she knew that was exactly what he’d been doing. She touched a hand to Javier’s arm. “Javier can’t give interviews. You know that. Give me the recorder. Give it to me!”

Javier moved closer, crowding Alex. “You’d better do what the lady asks.”

Alex drew a digital recorder out of his pocket and handed it over. “This is bullshit, Laura. I’m just doing my job.”

It was one thing to wear a digital recorder in an interview. It was another to wear it into someone’s home when no interview was taking place in hopes of stealing a quote or two in the guise of casual conversation.

She scrolled back, deleted the file, then handed it back to him. “I thought you were a friend coming into my home, Alex, not a journalist working a story. I guess I was wrong. You need to leave. Now.”

Alex walked off, muttering profanity.

Laura turned to find the others standing down at the end of the hallway, watching, looks of astonishment on their faces.

“I guess it’s time for us to go,” Alex said.

Sophie glared at him, crossed her arms over her chest. “No, just you.”

Joaquin glared at him. “What the hell were you thinking, man?”

And Laura felt a rush of relief to know that the rest of her friends from the paper hadn’t been a part of Alex’s scheme.

* * *

JAVIER AND LAURA
had a quiet dinner, did the dishes together, then settled on the couch, Laura’s head resting on Javier’s lap.

“I’m sorry Alex was such a jerk today. In the I-Team meeting this morning he implied that I was keeping information from him—which I suppose I am. I didn’t think he’d join us for lunch only as a pretext to snoop in my office or to try to steal a quote from you. That’s low.”

Javier stroked her hair, the feel of it like silk, being close to her making it impossible for him to feel angry. “The stupid
cabrón
is lucky I didn’t give him another black eye to match the one he already has.”

“Can you imagine what might have happened if you hadn’t been in my office? He would have been free to look around and read everything. He might have found the FBI file. What would I tell Zach then?”

“Why aren’t you like that? I always say that I can’t stand the media. You’re part of the media, but you’re not like him or that
pendejo
Gary Chapin.”

“Gary and to some degree Alex live to break a story. It’s not the content of the story that matters to them. It’s the thrill of being first, of winning that race to make news. For me, journalism is about people. It’s about the human element.”