Signature Wounds (A Paul Grale Thriller #1)

“So do I. Go on.”


“We’ve identified their bomb maker and asked the public to help find him. That intensifies the pressure. They know the clock is running down and I think they’ll go big. A grand finale followed by a promise to be back later with more.”

“That’s what I think too. They’ve got enough left to do that. I’d be emboldened if I were them. I’m with you on this and we’ll keep talking, Agent Grale. I don’t agree with everything you’ve said but I want to keep a conversation going. You’ve done some very good work. Anything else, anybody?”

Nobody said anything. They were just waiting for Saran to finish. The meeting broke up as soon as Saran signed off.





48


When I arrived at the hospital, a nurse flagged me down and said Julia was now down a floor in a shared room. Number 323. First thing I saw was that Julia was off the drips. The tubes were gone. The young woman who was her roommate was asleep, so I drew the curtain and carried a chair over. We talked quietly.

“Dr. Segovia stopped by,” she said. “I really like her. Mom liked her.”

“Yeah, and remember when I said Jo and I made a mistake? We’re not going to make the same one again.”

“Was it your fault?”

“Usually is.”

I saw the faintest glint of humor in her eyes.

“Your mom always nailed it.”

That brought her close to tears.

“I’m very glad you like Jo. You may get out of here tomorrow, Julia. It’s not certain yet. We’ll know later today. Have more of your friends come to see you?”

“Kylie and Cara came yesterday.”

I didn’t know any of her friends. I couldn’t put names to faces. That would have to change.

“One way or another we’ll keep you in the same school,” I said.

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but we will.”

I’d toyed more with the leasing-my-house idea and then renting a condo, but given the circumstances, maybe the school district would make an exception for her two remaining years. After she had a driver’s license, the logistics would get easier. Logistics were the easy part. I looked at black stitches on her right forearm and her bandaged left ear and the brace on her neck, and thought that all the worst is what no one could see.

Her dinner arrived as we were talking. She picked at the plate without eating. She needed someone she trusted deeply to hold her and tell her life would go on. I wanted to be that person, but that person should have been her dad. I was the uncle who worked all the time and joked and talked to her at family barbecues. I needed to step it up and be there always.

“We’ll figure it out, Julia. That’s what I can promise. There’ll be some hard days, but each time we’ll find a way through.”

She nodded and murmured something about the vacation her family would have gone on next week. Melissa had talked it up, Glacier National Park, Waterton, then Banff. No more family vacations. No brother teasing her or mother who loved her enormously and dad who would have done anything to protect her. All I could do was be there for her in a different way, but we talked about the planned vacation because it seemed to help her. She talked and cried and then smiled at a good memory.

“Julia, if you can, eat a little. You need it.”

She ate a few bites then I made her laugh with a story about her dad. She cut into the chicken and I told another, this one about Jim bringing a B-52 home on two engines and landing cleanly in a heavy storm. My phone buzzed several times and I looked at the number and guessed who it was but kept my focus on Julia.

Half an hour later as I walked out, I called Beatty back.

“What happened at Red Rock with the police officers?”

“I couldn’t find a campsite and needed to sleep. I figured it wouldn’t be any big deal, but the cop who rousted me wanted to try me on terrorism charges.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the mountains behind the airfield.”

“The Strata airfield?”

“Yeah.”

“Doing what?”

“I couldn’t think of a place to go, so I’m camping out for a few days. But it’s bad news out here. I’m seeing this through a spotting scope, but it looks like the two security dudes are dead in their Land Cruiser about a third of a mile south of the airfield. Eddie’s truck is at the airfield, but I haven’t seen him. I tried to call you last night.”

“How do you know they’re dead?”

“With my spotting scope I could see a reflection of Tak’s face. His pupils were dilated and I saw a fly crawling over his left eyeball with no reaction from him. He’s dead.”

“Did you call 911?”

“I figured after what happened at Red Rock I couldn’t call 911 or the sheriff. They’d just come for me. I called you.”

“There’s nothing about this in the message you left me earlier.”

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