Explosive Attraction (13 page)

Darby brushed the tears out of her eyes and climbed to her feet. EMTs wouldn’t run like that to retrieve a dead body, would they?

Hope uncurled inside her. She rushed forward, but a policeman grabbed her and held her back.

“Sorry, ma’am.
You have to wait out here.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Is there a survivor?”

“I’m not sure yet, ma’am, but I need you to back up.”

Buresh was suddenly beside her, looking pale and exhausted, but dressed in a suit and obviously determined to be a part of what was going on. “Dr. Steele, you shouldn’t be out here where the bomber could find you.” He motioned another officer
over. “Officer Watkins will take you back to the station.”

A commotion had them all looking toward the fort. The EMTs raced across the drawbridge again with a body strapped to the gurney and a contingent of police officers clearing a path through the crowd.

Darby tried to see who was on the gurney, but there were too many people in the way.

“What are you waiting for, Watkins? Get
her out of here,” Buresh yelled.

“No,” Darby cried. “I need to wait and see—”

“Go on,” Buresh interrupted her. “Get out of here. You’re just putting more people in danger by hanging around. Go.”

Darby stiffened at his words, but this time she didn’t resist when Watkins pulled her toward the street.

* * *

N
O
MATTER
WHERE
Darby stood, or where she sat at the police station,
she seemed to be in the way. The squad room was in chaos. People ran in and out. Phones rang constantly.

Watkins finally shoved her into Buresh’s office with strict instructions not to call anyone and not to leave. Going home wasn’t an option. Telling her what was going on apparently wasn’t an option, either, because so far no one had told her anything.

She curled into the only comfortable
chair in Buresh’s tiny office, the leather chair behind his desk, and rested her head on her drawn-up knees. Her nerves were strung so tight she felt ready to snap. Who had been on the gurney? Was it Rafe, or Jake? Whoever it was, was he alive? What had happened after she ran out of the fort? Why hadn’t Rafe followed her?

The answer had her heart pounding in her chest.

He hadn’t followed
her because there hadn’t been enough time.

Even as tall and muscular as Rafe was, he couldn’t easily run with two hundred pounds of deadweight in his arms. The bomb had blown less than a minute after Darby ran across the drawbridge, too soon for Rafe to make it to safety. So what had happened? Who was on the gurney?

She fisted her hands in frustration and rolled her head back and forth
across her knees. The sound of the door opening had her jerking her head up.

Buresh stood in the doorway, his brows raised in surprise. Darby supposed he wasn’t used to seeing someone else sitting at his desk. She uncurled her legs and stood, moving out of his way.

She gripped the edge of the desk, facing him. He gingerly lowered himself into his chair, his face lined with pain, reminding
her of his injuries. A hundred questions rushed through her, but she held them back, trying to give him the time he obviously needed to pull himself together.

He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry you had to wait. I had to take care of that mess at the fort, then go to the hospital, then make arrangements to put you in protective custody until we find the bastard who did this.” Another pained
expression crossed his face.

Darby couldn’t wait a second longer. “Who was on the gurney? Who went to the hospital?”

His brows drew down and he frowned. “Detective Young. I thought you knew that. Detective Morgan saved his life. Jake is in for a long recovery, but the doctors think he’ll make it.”

Young was at the hospital. Jake Young.

Not Rafe.

She stumbled to the chair
beside Buresh’s desk. Air. She needed air. She dropped her head in her hands and struggled just to breathe. Despair unlike anything she’d ever known slammed into her.

Wait, he hadn’t said Rafe was dead. Maybe she just hadn’t asked the right question. A small spark of hope surged through her. “And did...Detective Morgan go to the hospital, too?”

“No.” His voice sounded confused. “There
wasn’t any reason to take him to the hospital.”

Darby nodded miserably, grief welling up inside her again. There’d been no reason to take Rafe to the hospital because he was already gone. “I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” a deep voice called out from the doorway. “None of this is your fault.”

Darby’s head shot up and she stared in disbelief at Rafe standing
just a few feet away. Joy and relief warred inside her, and suddenly she was in his arms. She didn’t even remember running to him, but she was standing in front of him, resting her head against his chest with her arms wrapped around his waist.

He stiffened, reminding her how inappropriate her actions were. Embarrassment had her cheeks feeling warm. What had gotten into her? She had no clue.
She started to pull away, but he drew her back against him, hugging her just as tightly as she’d been hugging him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear. He rubbed one hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

Afraid. He thought she was afraid. She was, but not for the reasons he thought.
She’d been terrified that he’d been killed.

The feel of him, the smell of him, was so intoxicating she stayed in the warm cocoon of his arms. Then the silence around her registered, and she opened her eyes.

Buresh was watching her with a thoughtful look on his face. And behind him, a sea of faces in the squad room were staring at her, some of them smiling, some of them looking outright
hostile.

She forced herself to let go.

Rafe dropped his arms from around her, and it was all she could do not to touch him one more time, to assure herself he really was okay. She took a couple of steps back so she could look him in the eyes.

“What happened? You said you’d follow me out of the fort, but when I turned around, you weren’t there.” She swallowed hard. “Then there was
an explosion. I thought... I thought you...” She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. “What happened?”

Rafe gave her a puzzled look, as if he was trying to figure her out. He glanced at Buresh before answering. “There was a timer on the bomb. I knew there wasn’t enough time to get out of the fort before it blew, so I ran into one of the cells. Two-foot-thick stone walls deflected
most of the blast.”

Darby sat down before her shaking legs could buckle beneath her. “Most of the blast?”

“The walls are old, not reinforced. The ones closest to the bomb buckled beneath the force of the explosion. I had to dig Jake and me out from beneath a pile of rubble, but it could have been a whole lot worse. Jake’s main injury was the knife wound, and blood loss.”

“What about
you?” she asked. “Were you hurt?”

“Cuts and scrapes. Nothing serious.” His brows drew down. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”

Darby’s face flushed with heat again. Why was she always blushing around him? “I’m a little freaked out by all of this, but I’m fine. I don’t understand how this happened. Who is doing all this? Was the bombing today a copycat crime or something?”

“It’s too early to know yet.” Rafe sat in the chair across from her. “But I’m inclined to believe the guy who tried to kill Mindy was hired by the bomber to kidnap and kill her. That’s why there wasn’t a bomb. She wasn’t a primary target. She was just a way to get to you, to hurt you. The real bomber is still out there, and he’s not finished yet. He has a vendetta against a specific list of
people. We know you’re on the list. And now we know Jake is on the list.”

“So are you.” Buresh opened his top drawer, took out a photograph and pitched it on his desk. “This is a copy. The original is in evidence. This came from another courier right after you left the station to search for Jake. No timer this time, just the photograph with one word on the back.”

“Let me guess,” Rafe
said, eyeing the picture of himself. “Boom.”

Darby curled her fingers around the arms of her chair.

“This sicko is playing a game with all of us,” Buresh said. “We need to figure out who else is on his list. But first things first. Both of you are in danger, and you’re dangerous to everyone around you. Get out of here. Hide out together until this all blows over.”

“What’s the plan?”
Rafe asked. “I need to be involved in this investigation. You can’t bench your best detective with this guy spiraling out of control. Everyone’s in danger now, not just me or Darby.”

“Take a laptop with you. Dial in remotely and snoop through the case files. You can give us a list of people you want interviewed and we’ll do the legwork here. That’s the best I can offer. Stop in administration
on your way out. Have them set you up with a fake ID, some credit cards, cash, a new burn phone. Leave your old phone here, your badge.”

“Aren’t you going a bit overboard? I already have a burn phone. And no one’s going to search me, looking for my badge.”

Buresh glanced at Darby. “Dr. Steele, can you give us a minute, please? Just stand right outside the office where we can see you.”

She blinked in surprise, but did what he asked.

Chapter Thirteen

Rafe flicked a glance at Darby, sitting outside Buresh’s office. She was only twenty feet away, clearly visible through the glass. She was safe, for now. He knew that, and yet he had to curl his fingers around his chair to remind himself not to jump up, grab her and run. Even though one of the female officers had loaned Darby a clean shirt, he couldn’t quit picturing
her in her blood-soaked blouse and remembering his own terror thinking the blood was hers.

He dragged his gaze from Darby and looked at Buresh. “All right, tell me. What has you acting so strange? What’s going on?”

Buresh absently rubbed his stomach where he’d been stabbed. “This case doesn’t pass the smell test. There’s something rotten going on.”

Rafe stilled. If Buresh had said
that before today, before Jake had almost been killed, he’d have expected it, because he’d been suspicious of Jake. But now, Buresh’s statement hit him like a fist in his gut, sucking the air from his lungs. His mind started racing, thinking through the possibilities. He looked through the glass wall at the squad room beyond. It had always been home, a safe haven, and suddenly it took on an aura
of evil and danger as his mind painted everyone he saw with the broad brush of suspicion. “You think the bomber has inside help.”

“I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that he’s using our standard procedures against us. He’s fast, too fast, in and out while we’re chasing our asses to lock everything up tight. He knows SOP, that we have to look at the big picture first.”

“Like sending
in the SWAT team to clear the hospital. He knew he’d have plenty of time after blowing the transformer to go after Darby and me, because no matter how many people called 9-1-1, standard operating procedure says to hold back and wait for SWAT to clear the building.”

“Right.” Buresh nodded. “I’m betting Jake scared the bomber away without even realizing it.”

Rafe grunted his response,
not willing to give Jake that much credit. “You’re going to say he counted on us locking down Anastasia State Park, giving him time to escape while we were occupied with the evacuation. But that wasn’t the bomber. That was his lackey.”

“His lackey doing exactly what he told him to do.”

“Maybe,” Rafe allowed. “So at the fort, he counted on, what? The confusion of everyone running out
of the fort after he stabbed Jake so he could get away? That’s not inside knowledge.”

“Sure it was. What did you do as soon as people started running out of the fort?”

“Locked it up tight. I ordered everyone to be held on the green to be interviewed.”

Buresh raised a brow, waiting.

Rafe cursed. “And then I saw the bomb, and had Darby report it.”

“Right,” Buresh continued.
“Instead of holding everyone to interview, the directive immediately changed to evacuation again. We got everyone out of there, as quickly as possible, to prevent loss of life. I can tell you by the time I arrived, no one was waiting on that green to be interviewed. Every cop in the vicinity was keeping civilians back, and holding vigil for their fellow cops in harm’s way.”

“He’s using our
own procedures against us. That doesn’t mean he’s a cop.”

Buresh nodded. “I agree. And we’re too small a police force not to be able to account for everyone’s location at a given time. No one has taken vacation in the past few weeks or missed a shift, nothing to account for the dates and times our bomber has been active. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t feeding the bomber information.”

“Come on, you don’t really think one of ours would do that.”

“Why not? You thought Jake could be working with the bomber.”

Rafe crossed his arms. “All right, but Jake’s a special case. He has motive. Who else around here hates me enough to want to kill me?”

Buresh laughed. “Probably more people than you think.” He held up his hand to stop Rafe’s angry response. “Seriously, I’m
not saying one of our people is doing anything on purpose. You know how it is. Loose lips sink ships. Some guy talks in his sleep to his girlfriend, or says things he shouldn’t. Her brother or some distant cousin just happens to be our guy. So, just in case, we can’t risk your location being leaked. Wherever you and Dr. Steele go, I want it on the QT. I don’t want
anyone
to see anything to clue
them in that you’re a cop. And I don’t want anyone but me knowing where you are.”

Rafe blew out a frustrated breath. “This doesn’t feel right. I agree the bomber may know something about police standard procedures, but I’m not sure we should spend time looking for any personal connections between our people and the bomber. That feels like the wrong direction for the investigation.”

“Tell you what. You come up with a better angle, call it in. We don’t have much to go on right now. I’ve already got a team researching for ties between the victims. But since all the vics work with law enforcement, directly or indirectly, it’s hard to know what ties matter to the case. I’m looking for any leads I can get.”

Rafe glanced at Darby, reassuring himself she was still okay. He took
his badge, driver’s license and everything else that could identify him out of his wallet, and placed them on the desk. “The gun I keep. Got a problem with that?”

“Of course not. Now go, get out of here. Don’t forget the laptop. As soon as you’re settled, let me know where you are.”

Rafe tapped his fist on the desk. “At least tell me you’ve got an ID on the dead guy we thought was the
bomber.”

“Actually, yes. We put his picture on TV and someone called in his name. He was a small-time thug. Had a juvie record, breaking and entering, grand theft for taking his unforgiving stepfather’s car out for a joyride. But nothing to indicate he was anything but minor league. No military or police background, no kind of formal training in explosives. We didn’t get any hits on him in
the system when we first ran him because his juvie record was sealed. That explains why the fingerprint from the attack at the hospital didn’t yield any results. We had to subpoena a judge for more and they gave us his rap sheet.”

“A decoy. A fall guy, and we totally fell for it.”

“That about sums it up. We’re dealing with a sophisticated perp here. We can’t take anything for granted
or assume anything. Be on the alert.”

Rafe nodded and headed to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “I assume you’re going back to the hospital?”

“Of course. I’ve got a man down. I’m heading over there right after I take care of a few more things. Why?”

“When you see Jake, tell him...” Rafe hesitated.
Tell him I’m glad he survived? That he needs to quit being such an
ass and get over himself?
What was the point? Jake would never forgive him, and there was no way for Rafe to fix things between the two of them. “Never mind.” He yanked the door open and strode outside to Darby.

Keeping her alive until this mess was over was his primary concern now. That was what he needed to focus on.

He was just about to grab her hand when he remembered she hated being
pulled along behind him. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to a very fun place. Administration.”

She hurried to keep up with him. “Administration? Why?”

He held the door open for her. “So I can show you a magic trick.”

“A magic trick?”

“I’m going to make us both disappear.”

* * *

W
HEN
R
AFE
HAD
SAID
he was going to make her disappear, Darby thought it was a metaphor.
But he’d done exactly that.

She stared at herself in the dressing room mirror, her hair cut in a short bob that barely brushed her shoulders, dyed a deep auburn color. Not a look she would have ever chosen for herself. Neither were the clothes she was wearing. Every time she expressed a preference for a particular style or color, Rafe chose something the exact opposite.

When she’d asked
him why he bothered to ask her opinion if he wasn’t going to listen to her, he’d stared at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind. Then he’d calmly explained that he’d listened very well, that to make her disappear he needed to ensure she looked nothing like she normally did. So, he wanted her to wear clothes she wouldn’t normally wear.

She sighed and stepped out of the changing room.

Rafe was waiting for her, looking like an arrogant prince staring at one of his subjects, his head cocked to the side, his freshly cut hair giving him a regal look. “That’ll do. Keep that one on. We’ll take the rest with us.”

An hour later they were sitting in a beachside café south of town, eating cheeseburgers and fries, watching the local news playing on a TV over the bar. Grainy footage
from someone’s cell phone showed the black smoke rising over the fort earlier today and the pandemonium that had ensued.

“You done?” Rafe asked.

Darby wiped her hands on a napkin. “Done. What’s next?”

“We’re going back into town.”

“Going back? After everything we did to disappear? You do realize I dyed and cut my hair, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I’m surprised you went
for that. It was way too easy.”

She threw a French fry at him.

He ducked and laughed, but his grin quickly faded. “No one is going to see us. We’ll be in and out in just a few minutes. Then we’ll lie low.”

“In and out of where?”

He didn’t answer until they reached his car in the parking lot. “We’re going to your office. I need to look at more of your files.” He’d already reviewed
the ones she’d gotten earlier. Buresh had come through with the subpoena, so even though Darby felt guilty letting him invade her clients’ privacy, at least she could defend her actions by saying there was a court order.

“What else do you think you need from my office?”

“I want to expand the search, figure out which one of your patients is the lunatic trying to kill you.”

She gritted
her teeth. “They aren’t patients, they’re clients. And you need to get over your prejudices. None of my clients are the type of person to go after someone with a bomb.”

He gave her a droll look. “I’d bet that most of your
clients
are the kind of people who would try to blow someone up, or shoot them, or stab them. I’m betting our bomber is one of those charity cases where you got a murderer
off with a light sentence because you think he’s—” he held up his fingers and did air quotes “—not responsible for his actions.”

Darby sucked in a breath. “Just because someone makes a mistake, it doesn’t mean they’re bad. It means they messed up. Someone like you should have more sympathy for the people I defend.”

He stilled. “Someone like me?”

Alarm bells went off in her head,
but she couldn’t stop. She was so furious and sick of his condescending comments about her work. “For a man who cheated on his wife, you sure don’t cut anyone else any slack for making mistakes.”

His jaw tightened so hard his skin turned white beneath the stubble. “Get in.”

She immediately felt contrite. She knew she’d gone too far. “Rafe, I—”

“Now.”

She slid into the passenger
seat and Rafe slammed the door.

* * *

A
FTER
AN
INCREDIBLY
crazy day, starting with a bombing and ending with Darby and Rafe retrieving a second backup hard drive from her office, they were spending another evening in another hotel room, sitting at a small dining table with both his laptop and hers. Rafe was taking turns searching on both computers. Darby was sitting beside him, thoroughly
bored, wishing he’d talk to her.

The man was a master of the silent treatment.

He clicked another key and the pictures the bomber had sent were displayed on the screen. Darby stared at the pictures, and realized three of them had some very interesting things in common. “Zoom in on that picture on the left, the one of you.”

He moused over the picture and clicked. His likeness filled
the screen. Darby studied the background.

“Okay, now Jake’s picture.”

Rafe clicked again. Another close-up shot, but with a few more details in the background. Excitement churned through Darby. “Now my picture.”

When her picture was displayed, she fist-pumped in the air.

Rafe looked at her as if she were crazy.

She grinned. “Those pictures were all taken at the courthouse,
in the same courtroom.
”

His eyes widened. He studied her picture, squinting as if he could make the background come into focus if he stared hard enough.

“Here.” Darby pointed to one of the fuzzy shapes. “See that woman? That’s Renee Harper. I can tell because I recognize her suit. It’s her Thursday suit.”

“Her...what?”

“Renee wears the same five suits every week. That’s the
suit she wears on Thursdays. She’s Judge Thompson’s—”

“Favorite court stenographer. I know that much. Can’t say I’ve noticed her suit fetish, though.”

“It’s not a fetish. A fetish is usually sexual in nature. It provides a sexual release. Trust me, Renee isn’t excited over her suits. She’s obsessive-compulsive. You should see her in the ladies’ room at the courthouse. Everything in threes.
She flushes the toilet three times, pumps the soap three times, rinses her hands...”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched, as if he was struggling not to laugh.

Darby crossed her arms. “Put your picture back up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He punched the keyboard.

She pointed to the background. “There she is. You can barely see her, but—”

“She’s wearing her Thursday suit.”

“Exactly.
Now put my picture up again. Renee’s not in this picture, but Judge Thompson is. That’s his right arm, right there on the edge of the shot.”

“His arm? Let me guess. You recognize the watch, the lucky watch he wears only on Thursdays, and only when there’s a solar eclipse.”

She punched his arm. “Don’t be silly. I know it’s his arm because of his robe.”

His mouth twitched again. “His
robe?”

“The sleeve of his robe is snagged. Judge Thompson has a nervous habit of scratching at the fabric. All of his robes have marks on the sleeves.”