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A ball of panic surged, lodging in her throat and nearly choking her. This is what had kept her from ever getting close to someone. Having every painful detail of her past laid bare. Dropping the walls that shielded her from the mental onslaught of guilt-ridden anonymous passersby. Was it worth it? The hardscrabble in her chest right now shouted a loud no.
She rose, driven to move. “It was a long time ago.”
“There’s a phrase used a lot in crime scene investigation. ‘Every contact leaves a trace.’” His calm, measured tone was steadying. She’d heard its echoes in her mind since that night in Thorne’s cellar. “I think the same is true of our experiences. They all leave an indelible mark on us. Subtly shape our responses and reactions well into adulthood.”
“I’m well aware what my mental etchings would reveal about me.”
“What they say is that you’re a freaking warrior. Battle-scarred. Resilient. Stronger than most people will ever be.”
“That’s me,” she replied caustically. “Xena the Warrior Princess.”
“Well, damn. I remember watching her on Nick at Nite. Now I’m imagining you in breastplate and armor. I was particularly fond of that golden bra she wore.”
She choked out a laugh, feeling infinitesimally lighter despite the shadows that still crowded her brain. Although she didn’t hear Hayes rise, she felt him come closer. And then his arms wrapped around her, drawing her back against his chest. Almost desperately, she blurted, “I know my own limitations. I can’t be who you want.”
She felt his lips brush her hair. “Eighteen months ago I raced down those cellar steps too late for two of the victims. But the survivor engraved herself on my mind. It’s your image that I’ve never been able to dislodge from my brain. Let me be the judge of what I want, Reese.”
Elaina Loffler was a tall,lean, hazel-eyed blonde who offered each of them a firm handshake before leading them to her desk. Her navy suit jacket hung on the back of her chair, and her short-sleeve gray tee was emblazoned with the name of a band Reese had seen in concert when she was a teen. “Appreciate you guys coming in on short notice. Let me grab some things and we’ll find a place with more privacy.” She collected her laptop and stacked some file folders on top of it before guiding them through a maze of desks to a room that might once have been a closet. “Close quarters, but it’ll do for our purposes. Watch the table. It offers up splinters like crappy souvenirs.”
Reese gingerly seated herself on one of the two metal folding chairs across from the detective, who was still talking. “As you can imagine, a failed assassination attempt taking place across from our station has garnered a lot of attention. And with that comes resources. We’ve got your would-be bomber in custody.”
Hayes stared hard at her. “That was fast.”
She hiked a shoulder. “Like I said, resources. And it helps that the guy’s a dumbass. We’d have caught him anyway, but he made it easy.” Derision threaded her tone. “Imagine thinking there wouldn’t be cameras in a lot that’s directly across from our station. Not to mention lining the front of it. It was like breadcrumbs from the terminally stupid.” The detective set the folders aside and opened her laptop. Tapped some keys. “Your pictures of the vehicle helped, too, though. Footage angles didn’t show the plate. We found it quicker because of the partial you caught.”
Her rapid-fire delivery had Reese smiling. Loffler had already vaulted to the top of a very short list as her favorite detective. “Here’s the footage from out front.” She spun the laptop around for them to view. Four split screens each displayed video, one of which was already playing. Reese watched as she and Hayes crossed the street from the station and walked to the parking lot, where Hayes enacted his security protocol. Moments later, he was pushing her to the ground, while the air filled with smoke and debris. They were lost from sight, then rose again as a navy sedan drove slowly by the station. Hayes practically pulled her to the sidewalk before letting go of her to leap into the street. The next screen showed him sprinting after the car, camera in hand. A third displayed the scene where they reunited, and yet a fourth had them engulfed in the crowd that had streamed from the station.
Silently, Hayes pushed the laptop back to her, and the detective brought up more footage. “We’ve also got the driver on multiple traffic cams. But this is from the lot. Like I said, dumbass.” She passed the computer back to them.
The navy car pulled into the parking area and parked a few spaces away from Reese’s Hyundai. A stocky figure in a gray hoodie and jeans emerged from it. The hood shielded his features, but he carried a plastic bag, and the hand clutching itrevealed he was Caucasian. Another camera caught him sidling between her SUV and the neighboring car and disappearing for a few seconds, before reappearing and retracing his steps to the sedan. But this time, despite the hood, the camera caught a full frontal image. While his forehead was concealed, the stranger was depicted from the eyes to the base of his throat.
“Gotcha,” Hayes muttered.
“These photos were good enough to run through our booking database. Roderick Bradbury. Age fifty-two. Five-eight. One ninety. Brown and brown.” While Hayes returned the laptop, Loffler flipped open a file folder, withdrew some eight-by-ten pictures, and splayed the images before them. “Recognize him?”
Reese leaned forward, careful to avoid touching the marred wooden table. Mugshots, she realized an instant later. They showed a jowled man with dark hair, balding in front save for a few greasy strands combed over in a failed attempt to mask his hair loss. “I’ve never seen him before. And the name isn’t familiar.”
Beside her, Hayes shook his head. “He never drew close enough when he was tailing us for me to get a good look at him.”
“I figured, but thought it was worth a shot.” She extracted a couple more pictures from the file. Both were closeups of his hands. He was missing the thumb and index finger on the right one.
“Something tells me he’s tried this before.”
“Oh, he’s quite the handy guy. Pun intended. Sixteen years ago he was convicted of using one of his homemade IEDs to blow up the home of the boss who’d fired him. Did a ten-year stretch for that. We pulled him in a couple of years ago when a neighbor complained about being threatened with the same thing. Couldn’t make anything stick. He won’t slip away this time.” She swept up the photos, replaced them, and then opened the second file to display several pictures of minute fragments.
“That’s from the IED?” asked Reese.
The detective nodded. “A little more sophisticated than a pipe bomb, but still fairly crude. Some sort of metal vessel packed with explosives that he likely attached to the undercarriage of the vehicle with magnets. Bomb technicians also found traces of a fertilizer commonly used by farmers in the area. It was lethal enough to take out both of you, and probably anyone nearby, but it didn’t have a large kill radius. You said you heard a cell ringing as you ran away.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question, but Hayes responded. “That’s right. But I’d already spotted the device with the explosives detector.”
Her eyes gleamed with interest. “I read your statement. Lucky for you both. Most people would have gotten in the car, the bomb-maker calls the device and…” She slapped the table, making Reese jump. “Boom.” Her gaze went from her to Hayes. “Your statement also says you’re in our fine city as security detail for Ms. Decody, until the TK is recaptured. Do you have reason to believe the attempt on your lives yesterday is related to Thorne?”
“He may not be calling the shots, but we suspect that he’s been getting assistance. It would be worthwhile to pursue any connection between him and this Bradbury.”
Loffler nodded as she swept up the pictures and replaced them in the folder. “We’ve got people on that, but good to know we’re not chasing a dead end.”
“Earlier this week someone was attempting to tail us,” Hayes told her. “I confronted him. Turns out he was an acquaintance of Thorne’s. He ended up dead the next day. Thorne’s fingerprints were found on the scene. Deputy Mendes of the San Bernadino Sheriff’s Office is following up.”