Page 115 of Critical Doubt

The bells rang louder—church bells.

Another memory came into his head.

Every week Leo asked them to stop by the church so he could say a prayer. They'd always agreed, respecting his faith, and it never took longer than a few minutes. But one day, Leo had been gone a lot longer, and the locals near the church had been getting restless with their military presence. They needed to go.

He went into the church, but Leo wasn't there.

He walked out the back door and saw Leo talking to a man. When Leo saw him, he broke away from the conversation and rushed toward him.

"Sorry it took so long," Leo said. "I was just trying to make the locals feel like they're being heard."

"We need to get back to the team," he replied, thinking something was off. Leo was acting strange.

Why hadn't he asked him what was wrong?

The images moved forward in time: the mission to rescue an aid worker; listening to the ops team outline the plan; waiting for the helo to spin them up; creeping through the dark of the night toward the abandoned hotel.

And then the nearby church bells rang twelve times—midnight.

They were happy for the noise to cover up their presence.

He positioned himself in the front with Leo and Carlos. Mason and Hank were at the side door. Todd and Paul went around the back.

When his three-man group hit the lobby, shots rang out.

The lights blinded him again. Flash bangs. Explosions. Smoke. Heat. His brain felt like it was on fire.

Figures were shooting, others were running, the building was collapsing. He yelled into the radio to abort the mission.

And then there was Leo, standing over Carlos's body. He should have been dragging Carlos to safety, but he was backing away. Leo ran into the shadows toward another man.

He strained to see the man's face. Was it one of his team?

The smoke cleared for one second, and he caught his breath. It was the man from the church, the one he'd seen Leo talking to the week before. It was Rajeesh Buthanu, an arms smuggler and terrorist who was on the CIA watch list.

Leo knew him. Leo knew one of the men who'd just killed Carlos!

They both disappeared into the smoke as more bullets rang out.

He dodged for cover, but he was too late, feeling a horrendous shredding pain in his leg. As he rolled behind a wall, he wasn't sure his leg was even there anymore. He needed to get away. He needed to save his team, but he couldn't wake up. He couldn't move. He couldn’t see anything.

Then the light began to prick at his eyes. He finally found the strength to open them.

He wasn’t in the hotel anymore. He was at Mason's house. His gaze lit on the paper airplane.

Leo!He scrambled to his feet and grabbed his phone. He saw the text from Savannah and wondered what the new developments were. But he was more interested in telling her what he'd just realized. She'd been right all along. The bells had been trying to make him remember what he'd seen at the church and at the hotel. Leo had been working with an arms dealer. And if that were true then, it had to be true now. Leo had to be alive. He had to be running the show.

He punched in Savannah's number. It went to voice mail.

Dammit!He needed to talk to her.

Checking his watch, he realized at least thirty minutes had passed since he'd arrived at the townhouse. He needed to get out before anyone else arrived, including the FBI, who would only stop him from acting on what he knew.

After leaving the house, he jogged down the street to his truck and hopped in. As he drove away, he called Savannah again, this time leaving a message.

"I just left Mason's house," he said. "I saw a paper airplane in the trash and the bells went wild. I finally listened to what they had to say, what they had to show me. Leo is alive, and I think I know where the guys are, where they've taken the weapons. Call me back." He paused. "And I'm sorry, Savannah." There was a lot more that he wanted to say, but this wasn't the time. He ended the call without giving her the address of where he was going. He knew the FBI wanted him off the case. Paxton had told him as much. If he pulled Savannah into this or took the FBI on some wild-goose chase, he could be jeopardizing her job, and he knew how much it meant to her.

He set his phone in the drink holder next to his seat. He'd call her back when he got to the scene, as soon as he knew if he was really on to something. Then she could call in whatever teams she wanted.