Explosive Attraction

chapter Thirteen



Rafe flicked a glance at Darby, sitting outside Buresh’s office. She was only twenty feet away, clearly visible through the glass. She was safe, for now. He knew that, and yet he had to curl his fingers around his chair to remind himself not to jump up, grab her and run. Even though one of the female officers had loaned Darby a clean shirt, he couldn’t quit picturing her in her blood-soaked blouse and remembering his own terror thinking the blood was hers.

He dragged his gaze from Darby and looked at Buresh. “All right, tell me. What has you acting so strange? What’s going on?”

Buresh absently rubbed his stomach where he’d been stabbed. “This case doesn’t pass the smell test. There’s something rotten going on.”

Rafe stilled. If Buresh had said that before today, before Jake had almost been killed, he’d have expected it, because he’d been suspicious of Jake. But now, Buresh’s statement hit him like a fist in his gut, sucking the air from his lungs. His mind started racing, thinking through the possibilities. He looked through the glass wall at the squad room beyond. It had always been home, a safe haven, and suddenly it took on an aura of evil and danger as his mind painted everyone he saw with the broad brush of suspicion. “You think the bomber has inside help.”

“I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that he’s using our standard procedures against us. He’s fast, too fast, in and out while we’re chasing our asses to lock everything up tight. He knows SOP, that we have to look at the big picture first.”

“Like sending in the SWAT team to clear the hospital. He knew he’d have plenty of time after blowing the transformer to go after Darby and me, because no matter how many people called 9-1-1, standard operating procedure says to hold back and wait for SWAT to clear the building.”

“Right.” Buresh nodded. “I’m betting Jake scared the bomber away without even realizing it.”

Rafe grunted his response, not willing to give Jake that much credit. “You’re going to say he counted on us locking down Anastasia State Park, giving him time to escape while we were occupied with the evacuation. But that wasn’t the bomber. That was his lackey.”

“His lackey doing exactly what he told him to do.”

“Maybe,” Rafe allowed. “So at the fort, he counted on, what? The confusion of everyone running out of the fort after he stabbed Jake so he could get away? That’s not inside knowledge.”

“Sure it was. What did you do as soon as people started running out of the fort?”

“Locked it up tight. I ordered everyone to be held on the green to be interviewed.”

Buresh raised a brow, waiting.

Rafe cursed. “And then I saw the bomb, and had Darby report it.”

“Right,” Buresh continued. “Instead of holding everyone to interview, the directive immediately changed to evacuation again. We got everyone out of there, as quickly as possible, to prevent loss of life. I can tell you by the time I arrived, no one was waiting on that green to be interviewed. Every cop in the vicinity was keeping civilians back, and holding vigil for their fellow cops in harm’s way.”

“He’s using our own procedures against us. That doesn’t mean he’s a cop.”

Buresh nodded. “I agree. And we’re too small a police force not to be able to account for everyone’s location at a given time. No one has taken vacation in the past few weeks or missed a shift, nothing to account for the dates and times our bomber has been active. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t feeding the bomber information.”



“Come on, you don’t really think one of ours would do that.”

“Why not? You thought Jake could be working with the bomber.”

Rafe crossed his arms. “All right, but Jake’s a special case. He has motive. Who else around here hates me enough to want to kill me?”

Buresh laughed. “Probably more people than you think.” He held up his hand to stop Rafe’s angry response. “Seriously, I’m not saying one of our people is doing anything on purpose. You know how it is. Loose lips sink ships. Some guy talks in his sleep to his girlfriend, or says things he shouldn’t. Her brother or some distant cousin just happens to be our guy. So, just in case, we can’t risk your location being leaked. Wherever you and Dr. Steele go, I want it on the QT. I don’t want anyone to see anything to clue them in that you’re a cop. And I don’t want anyone but me knowing where you are.”

Rafe blew out a frustrated breath. “This doesn’t feel right. I agree the bomber may know something about police standard procedures, but I’m not sure we should spend time looking for any personal connections between our people and the bomber. That feels like the wrong direction for the investigation.”

“Tell you what. You come up with a better angle, call it in. We don’t have much to go on right now. I’ve already got a team researching for ties between the victims. But since all the vics work with law enforcement, directly or indirectly, it’s hard to know what ties matter to the case. I’m looking for any leads I can get.”

Rafe glanced at Darby, reassuring himself she was still okay. He took his badge, driver’s license and everything else that could identify him out of his wallet, and placed them on the desk. “The gun I keep. Got a problem with that?”

“Of course not. Now go, get out of here. Don’t forget the laptop. As soon as you’re settled, let me know where you are.”

Rafe tapped his fist on the desk. “At least tell me you’ve got an ID on the dead guy we thought was the bomber.”

“Actually, yes. We put his picture on TV and someone called in his name. He was a small-time thug. Had a juvie record, breaking and entering, grand theft for taking his unforgiving stepfather’s car out for a joyride. But nothing to indicate he was anything but minor league. No military or police background, no kind of formal training in explosives. We didn’t get any hits on him in the system when we first ran him because his juvie record was sealed. That explains why the fingerprint from the attack at the hospital didn’t yield any results. We had to subpoena a judge for more and they gave us his rap sheet.”

“A decoy. A fall guy, and we totally fell for it.”

“That about sums it up. We’re dealing with a sophisticated perp here. We can’t take anything for granted or assume anything. Be on the alert.”

Rafe nodded and headed to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. “I assume you’re going back to the hospital?”

“Of course. I’ve got a man down. I’m heading over there right after I take care of a few more things. Why?”

“When you see Jake, tell him...” Rafe hesitated. Tell him I’m glad he survived? That he needs to quit being such an ass and get over himself? What was the point? Jake would never forgive him, and there was no way for Rafe to fix things between the two of them. “Never mind.” He yanked the door open and strode outside to Darby.

Keeping her alive until this mess was over was his primary concern now. That was what he needed to focus on.

He was just about to grab her hand when he remembered she hated being pulled along behind him. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to a very fun place. Administration.”

She hurried to keep up with him. “Administration? Why?”

He held the door open for her. “So I can show you a magic trick.”

“A magic trick?”

“I’m going to make us both disappear.”

* * *

WHEN RAFE HAD SAID he was going to make her disappear, Darby thought it was a metaphor. But he’d done exactly that.

She stared at herself in the dressing room mirror, her hair cut in a short bob that barely brushed her shoulders, dyed a deep auburn color. Not a look she would have ever chosen for herself. Neither were the clothes she was wearing. Every time she expressed a preference for a particular style or color, Rafe chose something the exact opposite.

When she’d asked him why he bothered to ask her opinion if he wasn’t going to listen to her, he’d stared at her as if he thought she’d lost her mind. Then he’d calmly explained that he’d listened very well, that to make her disappear he needed to ensure she looked nothing like she normally did. So, he wanted her to wear clothes she wouldn’t normally wear.

She sighed and stepped out of the changing room.



Rafe was waiting for her, looking like an arrogant prince staring at one of his subjects, his head cocked to the side, his freshly cut hair giving him a regal look. “That’ll do. Keep that one on. We’ll take the rest with us.”

An hour later they were sitting in a beachside café south of town, eating cheeseburgers and fries, watching the local news playing on a TV over the bar. Grainy footage from someone’s cell phone showed the black smoke rising over the fort earlier today and the pandemonium that had ensued.

“You done?” Rafe asked.

Darby wiped her hands on a napkin. “Done. What’s next?”

“We’re going back into town.”

“Going back? After everything we did to disappear? You do realize I dyed and cut my hair, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I’m surprised you went for that. It was way too easy.”

She threw a French fry at him.

He ducked and laughed, but his grin quickly faded. “No one is going to see us. We’ll be in and out in just a few minutes. Then we’ll lie low.”

“In and out of where?”

He didn’t answer until they reached his car in the parking lot. “We’re going to your office. I need to look at more of your files.” He’d already reviewed the ones she’d gotten earlier. Buresh had come through with the subpoena, so even though Darby felt guilty letting him invade her clients’ privacy, at least she could defend her actions by saying there was a court order.

“What else do you think you need from my office?”

“I want to expand the search, figure out which one of your patients is the lunatic trying to kill you.”

She gritted her teeth. “They aren’t patients, they’re clients. And you need to get over your prejudices. None of my clients are the type of person to go after someone with a bomb.”

He gave her a droll look. “I’d bet that most of your clients are the kind of people who would try to blow someone up, or shoot them, or stab them. I’m betting our bomber is one of those charity cases where you got a murderer off with a light sentence because you think he’s—” he held up his fingers and did air quotes “—not responsible for his actions.”

Darby sucked in a breath. “Just because someone makes a mistake, it doesn’t mean they’re bad. It means they messed up. Someone like you should have more sympathy for the people I defend.”

He stilled. “Someone like me?”

Alarm bells went off in her head, but she couldn’t stop. She was so furious and sick of his condescending comments about her work. “For a man who cheated on his wife, you sure don’t cut anyone else any slack for making mistakes.”

His jaw tightened so hard his skin turned white beneath the stubble. “Get in.”

She immediately felt contrite. She knew she’d gone too far. “Rafe, I—”

“Now.”

She slid into the passenger seat and Rafe slammed the door.

* * *

AFTER AN INCREDIBLY crazy day, starting with a bombing and ending with Darby and Rafe retrieving a second backup hard drive from her office, they were spending another evening in another hotel room, sitting at a small dining table with both his laptop and hers. Rafe was taking turns searching on both computers. Darby was sitting beside him, thoroughly bored, wishing he’d talk to her.

The man was a master of the silent treatment.

He clicked another key and the pictures the bomber had sent were displayed on the screen. Darby stared at the pictures, and realized three of them had some very interesting things in common. “Zoom in on that picture on the left, the one of you.”

He moused over the picture and clicked. His likeness filled the screen. Darby studied the background.

“Okay, now Jake’s picture.”

Rafe clicked again. Another close-up shot, but with a few more details in the background. Excitement churned through Darby. “Now my picture.”

When her picture was displayed, she fist-pumped in the air.

Rafe looked at her as if she were crazy.

She grinned. “Those pictures were all taken at the courthouse, in the same courtroom.”

His eyes widened. He studied her picture, squinting as if he could make the background come into focus if he stared hard enough.

“Here.” Darby pointed to one of the fuzzy shapes. “See that woman? That’s Renee Harper. I can tell because I recognize her suit. It’s her Thursday suit.”

“Her...what?”

“Renee wears the same five suits every week. That’s the suit she wears on Thursdays. She’s Judge Thompson’s—”

“Favorite court stenographer. I know that much. Can’t say I’ve noticed her suit fetish, though.”

“It’s not a fetish. A fetish is usually sexual in nature. It provides a sexual release. Trust me, Renee isn’t excited over her suits. She’s obsessive-compulsive. You should see her in the ladies’ room at the courthouse. Everything in threes. She flushes the toilet three times, pumps the soap three times, rinses her hands...”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched, as if he was struggling not to laugh.

Darby crossed her arms. “Put your picture back up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He punched the keyboard.

She pointed to the background. “There she is. You can barely see her, but—”

“She’s wearing her Thursday suit.”

“Exactly. Now put my picture up again. Renee’s not in this picture, but Judge Thompson is. That’s his right arm, right there on the edge of the shot.”

“His arm? Let me guess. You recognize the watch, the lucky watch he wears only on Thursdays, and only when there’s a solar eclipse.”

She punched his arm. “Don’t be silly. I know it’s his arm because of his robe.”

His mouth twitched again. “His robe?”

“The sleeve of his robe is snagged. Judge Thompson has a nervous habit of scratching at the fabric. All of his robes have marks on the sleeves.”

He stared at her again, his brows climbing to his hairline. “Are you always this observant?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but I suppose so.”

“What do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms. “What kind of odd habits have you noticed about me? Or am I perfect?”

“Ha! Far from it.” She raised her fingers to tick off each point. “For starters, you’re way too bossy. You frown too much. Your temper—”

“Forget I asked,” he said, his voice dry. “I suppose you have a theory about why the pictures were all taken in the same courtroom.”

“Actually, no. I don’t have a theory.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Rafe said. “I think you’re on to something. If we focus only on cases tried in Thompson’s courtroom, that could significantly reduce the number we have to sort through.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll let Buresh know what you came up with. It might be the break we need.”

Darby left him to his phone call. She crossed to her bed and sat down amidst the pile of folders and papers strewn across the comforter. She was sick of sitting at the table, going through computer files. She’d rather look at the files that were printed out.

Not the most exciting way to spend an evening in a hotel with a hot-looking guy. It was getting harder and harder to hide her growing fascination with him. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, and she wondered if he was remembering the way he’d touched her back at the hospital. But then he’d look away, his jaw would tighten, reminding her that even if he did desire her, there was no possibility of a relationship between them. He was too stubborn, too closed-minded, too set on a world of black-and-white when her world was full of gray.

“Darby, are you listening?”

She looked up, surprised to see Rafe standing beside the bed. His grim expression told her what he was going to say before he said another word.

“There’s been another abduction.”

* * *

DARBY WAS STILL REELING from the news that another victim had been abducted. But she and Rafe were trying not to dwell on how awful that was. Instead, they were brainstorming, trying to come up with a list of suspects.

“You said his latest victim is a private investigator?” Darby said from her perch on the foot of her bed.

Rafe looked down at her, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Yes, Clive McHenry. I’ve never worked with him on a court case before, so that seems to blow the theory that all the victims were related through Judge Thompson’s courtroom.”

“You said you’ve never worked with him on a court case. Does that mean you’ve worked with him in some other capacity? You knew him?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“I knew him. Let’s leave it at that.” His voice was nearly as cold as his eyes.

“But if you knew him, and he—”

“Drop it, Darby. I’m not going to discuss it.”

She waited, but he remained silent. She let out a long sigh. “Okay, we won’t discuss how you knew him. But I don’t want to drop the Judge Thompson angle just yet. Maybe McHenry was involved in a court case and you just don’t remember.”

“Or you don’t,” he said, his eyes lighting with renewed interest. “Do you use private investigators in your casework?”

“Sometimes. We do background checks so we know the kind of person we’re dealing with, and whether he’s being honest with us. But the name McHenry doesn’t ring any bells.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s see if it rings any search-engine bells.”

Darby laughed and sat down in front of her laptop. “All right, I’ll see what I can find.” She opened the directory with her files and performed a quick search. “No files with McHenry in them. Is he independent or part of a larger firm?”

“A firm.” Rafe stood behind her. He gave her the name of the private investigation agency that employed McHenry.

Again, her quick search didn’t get any hits. On a hunch, she broadened the time frame to include all of her archived files, regardless of date. The search took several minutes. Rafe pulled up a chair beside her and propped his chin in his palm while they waited.

A few minutes later, he straightened. “You’ve got a hit.”

Excitement surged through Darby. She opened the file and quickly read the summary. “Looks like I hired McHenry’s firm to do a background check on a client.”

“Looks like? You don’t remember hiring them?”

“I focus on therapy. Mindy...” She swallowed hard, and forced thoughts of her friend lying in the hospital out of her mind so she could concentrate. “Mindy took care of ordering background checks. Although this one was well before she started working for me, so a different assistant ordered this one. The client’s name was Jerry Fullerton.”

“That name sounds familiar.”

“It should. He was a defendant in one of your cases.”

“Let me guess. You testified in his defense.”

“Actually, no. It looks like I testified for the prosecution. I guess that disproves your theory that I always testify on the wrong side.”

“I didn’t say you always were on the wrong side, just usually.” He added a smile, as if to take away the sting of his words. “What was the date of the trial?”

“About five years ago.” She rattled off the exact date.

He pulled his computer in front of him and brought up one of the police databases.

His fingers flew across the keys, typing criteria into the search engine. He punched Enter and sat back to wait. It only took a few seconds for the result to fill the screen, a detailed report from the case file.

He whistled long and low. “Fullerton did a stint in the army as an EOD specialist.”

“EOD?”

“Explosive ordnance disposal, the military equivalent of a bomb technician.” He read a few more lines. “This may be it. You and McHenry both worked on the prosecution side. Jake made the original arrest, and I helped him build the case. You, Jake and I all testified in that case.” He read a few more lines, then looked up at her. “The judge assigned to the trial was Thompson.”

“Bingo,” Darby said. “What about the A.D.A., Victor Grant? Did he work the case?”

“No, doesn’t look like it.” He paged a few more screens in. “Wait, here he is, Victor Grant. He had a private practice back then. He was the defense attorney.”

“He defended Fullerton? That doesn’t make any sense, does it? If Fullerton is the bomber, and he wanted to get back at the people on his case, why would he go after his own lawyer?”

Rafe shrugged. “Maybe because his lawyer didn’t get him off? Fullerton was convicted of second-degree murder.” He typed a few more search strings, and another report filled the screen. “He was paroled a little over a year ago.”

“He only served four years for murder?”

“First offense, crowded jails, good behavior. It happens. I’ll give this information to Buresh and get the guys back at the station digging in. Fullerton’s on parole, so he has to check in with his parole officer on a regular basis. We’ll get his address and pick him up. Simple.” He punched the information into an email and pressed Send. “You, Darby Steele, are a very smart lady.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

She wasn’t sure who was more surprised, Rafe or her.

He jerked back. “Sorry. I’m going to grab a quick shower. Then I’ll check with Buresh, see what comes of the Fullerton lead. With any luck, this could all be over in a couple of hours.”

He didn’t wait for her response. He grabbed his duffel bag and headed into the bathroom. Darby reached a shaky hand up to touch her mouth. That brief touch of Rafe’s lips on hers had her flushing hot all over. But to Rafe it had meant nothing, a mistake, something to apologize for.



She was glad the case was coming to a close. She desperately needed to regain control of her emotions and get off this crazy roller coaster.

The sun was going down, and the motel room plunged into darkness, but Darby didn’t move. A moment later, Rafe came out of the bathroom. His hair, newly shortened at the same salon where Darby had gotten her hair cut, was slightly damp. His broad shoulders were showcased in a fresh, dark blue collared shirt tucked into a pair of casual khaki pants. The man looked good enough to eat, but she’d never be invited to that table.

“Darby?”

He was waving his hand, as if to catch her attention. She’d been staring at his chest and must have zoned out. She smiled, until she saw the cell phone clutched in his hand and the serious expression on his face. “What is it? What’s happened? Did they find McHenry?”

“Not yet. Fullerton only checked in with his parole officer once, right after he got out of prison. His parole officer reported him missing, of course. Officers asked his known friends and family members if they’d seen him, but they didn’t do much more than that. Lack of resources. No one knows where he is.”