Signature Wounds (A Paul Grale Thriller #1)

“The bomb maker is being careful,” Henley said, then paused. “But there are more and more law officers concentrated there. If a sleeper cell is in Las Vegas, it’s just a matter of time before it’s uncovered.”


“I agree that the risk of being found increases for them with every passing day. At some point, economizing with C-4 doesn’t make sense. We’ll have so many law enforcement officers here, we’ll find them sooner or later. They know that.”

“They could take the bombings to another city.”

“Drone pilots. Drone engineers. AQAP. This is about the drone program,” I said.

“You’re looking at all the C-4 left and thinking they’ll go big if they’re not caught before.”

“That’s part of why I’m calling.”

“Can you send me photos of the igniter pieces?”

“I’ve got to get it approved, but you’ve still got your clearance, right?”

“For this, yes.”

“I’ll get them to you. Thank you, Peter. I miss working with you.”

I clicked off and called Jo, who had texted she’d just been with Julia.

“How is she?” I asked and heard the catch in her throat as she answered.

“The swelling is diminishing. She’ll be on her feet soon.”

“I’m headed there. That’s such good news.”

“That’s the good news. The bad news is her state of mind.”

I brought a present with me, a new iPhone for Julia. I knew from Melissa that she wanted an iPhone. She tried to smile when she saw it, but her heart wasn’t in it. She placed the phone on the bedside table as tears came.

“I just really miss Mom and Dad and Nate.”

“I know you do, Julia.”

You always will.

“I thought more about it like you asked, Uncle Paul, and I want to see them. I have to see them. I know what you said, but I have to.”

“Then we’ll do it.”

“Are their faces all—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence. Her chest heaved as she wept, and I felt a great rush of sadness and a desire to protect her from what I couldn’t.

“Their faces are the faces you know, but they aren’t there anymore. The light in our eyes is how we know each other and that’s gone. I stopped at the morgue today. It’s going to be hard and you won’t ever forget the change.”

“I want to hold my dad’s hand just once more.”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer that and continued on in my clumsy way.

“You saw your grandmother at her funeral. How old were you?”

“Four, but I remember her.”

I nodded.

“A lot of energy gets released very fast when a bomb detonates. There’s a rapid, almost immediate, expansion that rips things in its way apart. I don’t know any other way but to tell you the truth. If we do this, you only get to see their faces.”

Through her sobs she said, “I want to know everything. I want to see. I have to see.”

“We’ll go and after that they’ll be cremated and we’ll need urns for their ashes. I think we should look at urns together and find ones that are beautiful.” Or they come home in cardboard boxes with gray ash and fragments of bones and teeth. Urns were a way to start. We could find urns and talk about a memorial and a place for their ashes. And I’ll hunt the people who did this and when I find them . . .

“I brought your laptop and headphones too. They say you’re healing so fast you’ll get out of here soon. You know this already, of course—your friends Krissy and Elysa and Natalie are coming this evening and bringing dinner. I was thinking music might help, so I got you the phone.”

She said nothing to that and went quiet and back into herself. Later, she dozed and I answered e-mails. When Julia woke, she said, “I thought I felt Mom today.”

“Maybe you did.”

“It was like she was in this room.”

“Could be.”

Two nurses came in and I kissed her forehead and left. Sarah Warner called as I got in my car. For a moment, I was afraid Mondari had canceled out on her.

“Just calling to let you know we’re on. He moved the dinner to nine o’clock, but we’re a go. I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting.”





30


Near midnight, the text came. It read, Almost done. Waiting for the check. Mondari in restroom.



Which restroom?



I didn’t wait for her response. The restaurant faced the arcade. The nearest restrooms were a short walk to the left. At the line of urinals I spotted Mondari and ducked back out. Less than a minute later, Mondari came out. He looked toward the restaurant then walked the opposite way.

I texted Warner, He’s leaving. I’m following.



No way!



I didn’t answer her next text or the one after as I trailed Mondari outside onto the midnight street. She called a moment later.

“He’ll call you,” I said. “Something will have come up, an emergency, a friend who needs help, but he’ll call you. How did it go with him?”

“I thought it went well. Now I don’t know.”

Up ahead, Mondari slowed, lit a cigarette, and pulled out his phone.

“Here comes your call from him. Talk to you later.”

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