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“Completely unintentional. I’m calling because I need help. There’s very little to go on here, as all the intelligence seems to be one-sided. They appear to know our every move, and we know nothing about them. I assume you’re working on the problem.”

“We are. It isn’t an all-hands-on-deck tasking, but given recent events, it’s close. I am sorry to report there’s far more supposition and very little substance.”

“Who is working it from our end?”

“I got selected to coordinate all our investigations.”

“Excellent. You’re the best person for the job. Is there anything you can share right now? This has become quite personal, as you can imagine. I’m anxious for any opportunity to assist in finding out who’s behind these attacks on my family and track them down.”

“I’m sure you are, but we just don’t have anything to go on yet. I saw the preliminary report from the FBI on yesterday’s attack, and there wasn’t much detail. What we do know is that they were DJI Phantom drones, probably carrying a payload of two sticks of dynamite. Those drones are popular, although a bit pricey, and readily available for purchase almost anywhere. Likewise, the dynamite is relatively easy to acquire compared to C-4, and the drones had a simple impact fuse. It took someone who knew what they were doing to assemble this threat, but our assessment is that it wasn’t a military-grade operation. Anonymity seemed more important than effectiveness, which I find interesting. Unfortunately, the FBI has not yet found any serial numbers or anything else to track down.”

“What about foreign traffic?”

“Nothing of note. Not that it isn’t being talked about, of course, but it’s mostly speculative wonder. Who’s behind it and why?”

“How can I help?”

“Stay focused on getting married. I promise I’ll contact you first if we get any meaningful leads. You have the best resources the agency can offer.”

“I appreciate that, Candace. It’s frustrating that we don’t even know where to start.”

“Trust me, we all share your frustration right now. My intuition says that today’s the day we get our break. And when we do, we’re going after those bastards with everything we’ve got. By the way, that last little bit was from the president earlier this morning.”

“Was it?”

“It was. He and his wife appear to have a special fondness for you and your significant other. Looks like you’ve got the whole government, from the top down, pulling for you this time.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Lexi

Thursday afternoon—two days until the wedding

Ichecked my watch. Fifteen minutes until our planned escape to meet the photographer at the church. I’d just provided Mom an outline of the plan to avoid the media on the way to the church.

“Well, if I only have fifteen minutes, I’d better get dressed. No photographs this afternoon, so I don’t have to be camera-ready, correct?”

“That’s correct. I suggest wearing something comfortable but classy.”

I gave her a grumpy glare. “I don’t know what that means.”

Sighing, she went to my closet and pulled out a couple of items Slash had brought me from home. She laid a pair of black slacks and a soft blue sweater on the bed. “That should do it.”

“Can I wear my tennis shoes?”

“You may not. Wear those.” She pointed to a pair of black ankle boots.

“Those aren’t mine,” I protested.

“They’re mine, but we wear the same shoe size. Just try the outfit on, okay?”

I glanced at Slash, but he carefully avoided my look, not willing to get between me and my mom. Resigned, I took the clothes and headed into the bathroom to change.

“So, how was the bachelor party?” I heard Mom ask Slash through the door.

“Excellent. Low-key, but fun. Just the right amount of food and alcohol with all the right people. I enjoyed myself.”

“I didn’t hear about anyone throwing up in a fountain or the police arresting anyone,” I said from the bathroom as I pulled the sweater over my head.