J Saint - Collateral Damage

She strained to hear footsteps on the stairs, a groan or creak that sounded out of place. Was the intruder still inside the house? Sasha and Sam's barking continued but grew distant, indicating that they were unhurt and were hopefully chasing the intruder away.

Matt and Mitch jerked awake, looking at her sleepy-eyed, their race cars in their hands. She scooped up Matt and carried him over to Mitch's bed nearer to the window and cuddled them to her sides. She explained that there'd been a robber downstairs and they had to help her listen for the police. She told them if the robber came to the door they needed to climb down the ladder and run to Mrs. Rosen's house next door.

"We'll protect you, Mom." Mitch grabbed his dart gun from the shelf next to his bed, his expression solemn and fierce.

"Me too." Matt hung over the side of the bed, Thomas the Tank Engine underwear still on the outside of his pajamas, and pulled a loaded Nerf gun from beneath it. They aimed their weapons at the door and sat bravely in intense silence.

Lauren bit back a slight smile and blinked away tears. Never mind that they regularly shot at each other with the weapons, they were doing their absolute best, and she couldn't have loved them more than she did at that moment. No matter what mistakes she'd made in life and no matter how messed up her relationship with Bill had become, these two precious souls that she'd been given the honor to love were worth any price she'd had to pay. She prayed for them and for herself as hard now as she had when she went into labor and the doctor had told her the boys were likely too premature to survive.

Though it seemed forever, it couldn't have been more than eight minutes before the squad car arrived, blue lights flashing. Lauren opened the window and yelled down at them.

They instructed her to wait until they checked everything out. The report when they gave her the okay to exit the bedroom wasn't good. Lauren kept hold of Matt and Mitch's hands as they went downstairs and entered the kitchen. They asked her questions about what happened, and she explained.

The broken panels on the open French doors leading to the terrace made her feel sick. The safety of her home had been violated and lay as shattered as the glass on the ceramic tile floor.

"Ma'am, whoever broke in tonight was professional enough to disable your security system," said Officer Jenkins. Lauren gauged the cop to be about her age, thirty-two. Judging by his calm air of command, he had years of experience on the force. He was accompanied by a younger officer by the name of McCade, who was examining the lock on the French doors with a flashlight.

Officer Jenkins continued speaking when Lauren just stared at him in disbelief. She hadn't known that someone could so easily disable the one thing she relied the most on to keep her and her sons safe. "You notice anything out of the ordinary happen lately?" he asked. "Seen any strangers in the area or heard of any break-ins from your neighbors?"

Sasha and Sam's barking grew closer, and Lauren cleared the fear clogging her throat. "No, Officer. There hasn't been anything."

What about Bill's death? Her mind shouted at her. She glanced at Matt and Mitch and clamped her mouth closed. She didn't have any reason to connect his death with the break-in, and she couldn't let her sons learn of their father's death so abruptly either. God, she didn't know how she'd tell them, but would wait for more facts from the consulate in Brazil before she tried.

Officer McCade rose from examining the door latch. "Well, we can peg the guy as being impatient to get in. Looks as if he tried picking the lock, but then gave up finesse for brute force. A good thing too. You might not have heard him otherwise."

The chill in Lauren's spine deepened.

Sasha and Sam ran through the open door and began growling at the policemen.

"Friends, Sasha. Friends, Sam. Come. Sit," Lauren commanded. To her surprise, the dogs immediately obeyed, though they kept a low growl going and watched the policemen intently. They didn't make friends easily, and Lauren usually had to repeat herself several times. The officers looked impressed and she rolled her eyes-if they only knew the truth of things.

"Mom," Matt tugged on her arm. "Tell the policeman about the pony man. He might be mad that Sasha and Sam chased Clementine."

Officer Jenkins arched a brow. Lauren then explained the earlier incident and completely assured the policemen there really couldn't be a connection. But as she thought more about it, there could very well be more to Hank's Mr. Irresistible complex than met the eye. He'd been to her home. He knew it was just her and the boys living here. He would have had time to glance at the alarm system while taking a break during the party. Or even before the party started. He had arrived earlier than she'd expected and had wandered around the yard.

She drew a deep breath and gave Officer Jenkins a desperate look. "Would you two mind staying here for a few minutes longer while I gather a couple of things? I don't feel safe staying the rest of the night even if I could board up the broken panels of glass."

The officers agreed, and she brought the boys and the dogs upstairs with her as she grabbed a few necessities then loaded the car up for a trip to Angie's house.

"We'll fingerprint the door and outside windows and send a cruiser to regularly check on the house and the neighborhood," Officer Jenkins said they exited the house.

"Thank you."

"Just glad that you and your sons are safe, ma'am. Call if you need us." The officer handed her his card.

Lauren nodded. The police were climbing into their squad car as she pulled out of the driveway. Who had tried to break into her house and why? Was the break-in connected to Bill's death?

She couldn't reach Angie's house fast enough.

Washington, D.C.

0500 hours

Bleary eyed, Jack kept his gaze glued to the TV screen. WTF? rang continually in his mind. The world had gone mad and marched closer to total chaos with every passing minute. Each report coming from Saudi Arabia and Qatar grew worse in scope of the damage done to the oil refining and storage facilities in both countries. More importantly, the economic and political ramifications of the attack were out of control.

The unifying Muslim world had little doubt that the US and its allies-namely Israel-were responsible for the devastation.

Already financial experts predicted a global economic collapse unlike any the world had seen before. The overseas financial markets had crashed and closed early for the day-China, Japan, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Germany, France and England to name a few. Reports were they might not even open tomorrow.

And worse yet, many moderate peace-loving Muslims now supported the radicals, joining their cry for a Jihad driven world war to ensue and for Israel's annihilation. Westerners, Jews and Christian tourists around the globe were under attack no matter what country they were from. A cruise ship in the Mediterranean had been torpedoed. A group of mountain climbers in Nepal executed. A school bus of children in Israel demolished.

He was so absorbed in the horror and the devastating implications of it all that he almost missed the news story from Sao Paulo, Brazil. Reporters questioned if murdered Atlanta businessman, Bill Collins, was also a victim in the growing hate crimes against Westerners by radical jihadists. The mug of the man they pasted on the screen was an exact match to the blond terrorist he'd shot in Lebanon.

Jack picked up the phone, his hand shaking. Was he losing his mind? How was it possible? But the more he compared the picture with his memory, the more he believed he was right. The man he'd shot was Bill Collins-or his exact double. There were nuances to the man's features and the amused glint in his eyes that were identical to Jack's memory, which happened to be coined as photographic. Even with that fact in his bank, this discovery would be a hard sell. He had difficulty believing it himself.