Кей Хупер - Blood Ties

Special Agent Jaylene Avery glanced up from the bagged shell casing she was examining and said, “The sheriff thought of that hours ago, Tony, long before he left for the hospital. He assigned that task to his chief deputy. What’s his name—Scanlon? The one over there near the courthouse, looking harassed.”

Tony followed her gaze until he located the tall, well-built, middle-aged man who wore his crisp uniform with an air of definite authority. “Oh, Neil. Met him earlier. Now that I think about it, he wanted a good look at my badge and wrote down the number.”

“He’s the one keeping track, at least of law enforcement,” Jaylene said. “Though I doubt he’s had time to authenticate anybody. Just gathering names and badge or other I.D. numbers is taking hours. Nobody’ll really stand still for him, poor guy.”

“At least the bomb squad from the TBI has done their thing and gone away.”

“They didn’t have much to do,” Jaylene pointed out. “Collect a few bomb fragments that aren’t likely to give us much more information than we already have. We all know we aren’t dealing with a bomber specifically, so there isn’t likely to be an identifying characteristic about that bomb. We know he’s not a terrorist. We’re reasonably sure his motive isn’t money. So all their expertise was fairly wasted.”

“I’d just like to know where the bastard is now. It doesn’t take any extra powers to feel that creepy sensation of being watched. And, speaking of, are you getting anything from that shell?”

“Wish I could say yes. Unfortunately, I can’t.” She frowned. “Nothing at all, no sense of the sniper’s personality or motives. I might as well be holding a rock for all the vibes I’m getting.”

Tony sighed. “It was worth a try.”

“Are you getting anything?” she asked him.

“Other than the general sense of panic and fear all around us, no. That’s pretty damn strong, though, to be coming through to even my low-degree telepathy. Almost crackly with static. It’s beginning to give me a headache, and that doesn’t happen often, believe me. People are very worried that the sniper-slash-bomber isn’t finished.”

“I don’t blame them. That’s worrying me too. And the media isn’t helping.” She nodded to an area about a block from their position near the blast site, where yellow crime-scene tape stretched across the road and, along with several deputies, held back the small but determined crowd of reporters and film crews jostling for the best angle from which to report on the bomb. And the murders.

The twenty-four-hour news cycle, the modern bane of law enforcement everywhere—at least as far as Jaylene was concerned.

Tony nodded but said hopefully, “If they stay the rest of the night and want any sleep at all, it’ll have to be in that roach motel on the edge of town, so maybe they’ll start clearing out anytime now.”

“I don’t think so. The ones who were going to leave left, before midnight. The rest are more stubborn. Or just believe they’re onto a bigger story than the one Sheriff Duncan offered.”

“Well, two murdered bodies and a bomb blast might spell ‘probable survivalist with a grudge,’ but I don’t think that’s as uninteresting as the sheriff obviously hoped it would be.”

“Still better than ‘probable serial killer with a trail of bodies in three states and a new taste for bombs,’” Jaylene pointed out.

“True enough.”

“Anyway, I think the media is here for the duration. Unless something a hell of a lot more interesting happens elsewhere.”

“Yeah. And I guess it’d be wrong to hope for a disaster somewhere else.”

Jaylene looked at him with raised brows.

“Kidding,” he explained.

“You sure?”

“I swear. Look, at least most of the locals decided they didn’t much fancy being on TV and retired to their homes. Probably barricaded their doors and cleaned their guns.”

“I think I would if I were them,” Jaylene murmured.

“Yeah, I’m not all that happy out here under the work lights myself. When people like Galen and the twins believe our sniper is still too close for comfort, I pay attention.”

“Me too.”

“I hate body armor, Jay.”

“Me too,” she repeated. “But there’s no sense making it easy for the bastard, right?”

Tony sighed. “Right. And has anyone warned all the media people that standing out here in the glare of their own bright lights without any protection at all might not be the best idea in the world?”

“I’ve warned them twice myself.”

“Idiots. Sheriff Duncan has given them the only statement he means to until at least tomorrow—I mean later today—so all they can even do now is film on-the-scene bits for cable news and the morning shows. Still, far as I can see, we’ve got a lot more talking heads than actual investigative journalists, so maybe even those that stay won’t be nosing around.”

She continued to eye him. “You’re a glass-half-full kind of guy, aren’t you?”

Appearing seemingly out of thin air to join them near the sidewalk, Galen said, “He definitely is. Except about the weather. For some reason, the weather tends to bug him.”

Tony started at the first word. “Damn, will you quit doing that? That’s three times so far. You’re worse than a cat, sneaking up on people.”

“I didn’t sneak. I walked. You just didn’t hear me.”

Jaylene smiled faintly but said to Galen, “Any word on Diana?”

“She made it through surgery, but the next forty-eight hours are going to be critical. I take it the doctors aren’t too hopeful—but let’s call them glass-half-empty sort of guys and hope for the best ourselves. Miranda’s on her way back with Duncan.” He glanced at his watch. “They should be touching down in another half hour or so.”

“How about the others?”

“Staying, I take it. I didn’t ask why.”

Soberly, Jaylene said, “I know why Quentin’s staying. I don’t know the other two well enough to guess.”

“DeMarco staying puzzles me,” Galen admitted. “Unless he has a personal stake or Miranda ordered him to stay, I’d expect him to be heading back here, where all the action is. We could definitely use him, especially if the sniper isn’t done.”

“If Diana was a planned hit, DeMarco may be staying as guardian,” Jaylene offered.

“That’s not a role he favors. Watching and guarding are too tame for his tastes.”

“Since when is guardian duty tame?” Tony wanted to know. “Didn’t it get you shot last time?”

“Yeah, but that’s an unusual outcome. Mostly it’s a lot of watching and waiting for something you hope isn’t going to happen.”

Mildly, Jaylene said, “After more than two years undercover, maybe DeMarco’s ready for a lower-key job.”

With a grunt, Galen said, “Trust me, if he’s low-key it’s because the role calls for it. Otherwise, it isn’t in his nature. Guy’s wired and ready to blow pretty much all the time.”

“That sounds dangerous,” she said, still mild.

“It is. But he also has incredible control and self-discipline. And if you tell him I said so, I’ll deny it.” Galen shrugged. “Anyway, I guess we’ll find out all about it when Miranda gets back. Or not.”

Tony said, “I gather you didn’t find anything on the last sweep?” Galen was one of several agents who had been prowling the perimeter of the town all evening, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder how many times they had missed each other by a hair in the darkness. Then again, maybe ex-military types had special signals they exchanged in such situations.

Tony imagined Galen sounding some kind of birdcall in the night and hastily pushed the ridiculous image from his mind. He managed to do so without laughing out loud, which he considered something of an accomplishment.