Susan Sleeman - Explosive Alliance

He leaned against the wall and let the night play in his memory. He saw Krista running toward him, gripping his arm, her terrified eyes looking up at Otto. “Krista’s shock and fear at the discovery of the bomb were real. I’d stake my life on that, and I find it hard to believe she had any part in this.”

“Don’t make a rookie mistake,” Skyler warned. “There are all kinds of reasons she could be involved and still be legitimately terrified.”

“Name one,” he challenged.

“She could’ve been working with a partner who stashed the backpack in the stadium earlier and it was her job to retrieve and place the bomb.”

“Otto didn’t mention seeing her with a backpack and you have to agree he reads like a straight shooter.”

“I agree about Otto, but with his obsession with the game it’s not hard to believe that he wouldn’t notice Krista leaving her seat to retrieve the bomb.”

“Okay, say I buy that—which I don’t—why would she bring Otto with her if she was going to plant a bomb?”

“He makes great cover for something like this.”

“Still, I don’t see her risking his life.”

“Maybe she didn’t think he was at risk. Her partner could have told her there would be more time for her to get out of the stadium, but when she saw the countdown on the cell phone, she realized she couldn’t get Otto out in time.”

“Maybe.” Cash let the idea roll around in his head.

“Or maybe the partner said he only intended to damage the building and the bomb wouldn’t go off until after everyone left for the night. Or he might not have told her about the cell phone and only mentioned a timer. When she realized he could call to detonate the bomb at any time, she knew she couldn’t get Otto out of there in time, panicked and ran for your help.”

“All possible, I suppose.”

“But you don’t buy any of them.”

He shrugged.

“Fine.” She sounded irritated, an unusual stance for Skyler. She was their peacemaker. The one who brought people together on their team. But tonight he was seeing a different side of her. The tough investigator. “We can disagree on this as long as we’re clear that Ms. Curry is a suspect.”

“We’re clear.” He saw Krista and Opa returning, both of them slipping into their raincoats. Cash pushed off the wall. “I promise to give them a ride, then come running home like a good little boy.”

“Right, joke about this as you always do but remember this conversation.” Shaking her head, Skyler turned to Krista and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else that might help, give me a call.”

Cash escorted the pair down a ramp to ground level, where he nodded at the officer guarding the exit. Outside, the rain had let up and wispy fingers of steam rose up from the asphalt, disappearing into the dark night. Police cars, both county and city, sat in the lot. Red lights twisted into a swirly cotton candy of fog. A perimeter had been set up and officers dressed in rain gear stood sentry, holding the public at bay.

Cash peered at Otto. “Employees park in an auxiliary lot. It’s a bit of a hike. You up for that, or do you want to wait here while I get the car?”

Krista stared across the lot, her expression dark and unreadable. “Maybe we should wait here. We should be fine with all the cops around.”

“Stop fussing, Liebchen.” A stubborn look claimed the old man’s face. “I am able to walk.”

Cash didn’t want to offend Otto, so he started walking at what he hoped was a slow enough stride to be comfortable. They neared police barricades holding back media crews fairly salivating to one-up each other in their coverage. Paul Parsons from the local News Channel Four TV station was making his way to the front of the crowd. He wore a damp white shirt, and his nondescript brown hair was plastered against his head.

Cash stifled a groan. He’d expected reporters, but he’d rather not face the overly zealous Parsons. He’d tried the patience of FRS team members recently when he’d hounded Skyler after someone tried to kill her. Parsons had made it clear in his reports that he could do a better job in the investigation than the sheriff’s department or even better than Skyler’s FBI agent fiancé.

But worse, in Cash’s opinion, was the way the man had harassed Skyler when she was injured and fragile. Parsons was a bully, plain and simple. If he started hassling Krista or Opa, Cash would have a hard time not pushing back.

As expected, Parsons slipped past an officer and rushed toward them, his cameraman in tow. Cash put his head down and continued moving.

Krista quickly flipped up her hood, seeming to shrink into her coat. “Do you think he knows who we are? That I saw the bomber?”

“Doubtful, but if he has somehow learned you’re a witness, just say no comment and keep moving.” Cash used his body to shield Krista and Otto while easing them past the tenacious reporter.

Parsons swiveled, planted his feet in front of Krista and shoved the microphone in her face, forcing her to stop. “Is it true, Ms. Curry, that you saw the bomber well enough to give the police a detailed description?”

She took a step back and glanced at Cash. Panic flared in her eyes. An overwhelming protective urge welled up inside Cash—a familiar feeling but not one he’d expected for a woman he barely knew. One who was a suspect in the bombing. It caught him by surprise and made him hesitate. Just a fraction, but long enough for Parsons to seize the moment and step closer.

“Did you see the bomber, Ms. Curry?” he demanded.

Krista jerked back.

Cash did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed Opa’s arm. “I’m sorry, but Ms. Curry’s grandfather’s had a very trying night, and he isn’t feeling well. We need to get him home.”

“Yes,” Krista mumbled. “He has to get home.”

“I won’t keep you,” Parsons said. “All I want is a simple yes or no. Did you see the bomber?”

“Oh.” Opa wobbled and his legs seemed to turn to rubber. He reached for Krista’s arm. She clutched his elbow, steadying him.

Cash glanced at the older man, and he winked at Cash.

Nice. The crafty old guy was simply putting on a show for the reporter to distract him from Krista.

“As you can see,” Cash said pointedly, “we really need to be going. Unless, of course, you want to be responsible for an elderly man collapsing on your news program.”

“Of course not.” Parsons knew when to step down and back away.

Cash continued to hold Otto’s elbow and hurried ahead. Otto kept up with Cash, but they nearly had to drag Krista. Despite her unspoken desire to get away from the crowd, she kept shooting looks around the area, slowing them down.

Hoping to see what she was searching for, Cash followed her gaze. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she feared the bomber was in the crowd of looky-loos that circled the perimeter.

Cash figured the guy was long gone. Unless, of course, he’d heard the news stories by now and knew Krista’s heroic actions had kept the bomb from detonating. If so, he would want to stop her before she had a chance to ID him. Which meant he could have come back and was out in the crowd. Watching. Waiting. Planning to follow them and take Krista out when she was away from the heavy police presence.

Cash was suddenly thankful he’d offered to escort her home. A woman with a sick, elderly man would be a sitting duck for a bomber and without Cash’s help, the consequences could be deadly.

SIX

Feeling Cash’s focus on her from the car, Krista helped Opa climb the steps to his house. She was torn between wanting Cash gone and wanting him to stay exactly where he was, watching them and making sure no harm came their way. On the ride home, she couldn’t stop thinking about what the bomber would do if he knew she could identify him. It would only take one news story to alert him and make him determined to silence her.