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“Oh, come on, Derek.” Jon caught up to him first. “We like Molly as much as anybody. Hell, everybody likes her, she’s so sweet and kind. But she gets so awkward around you, it’s pretty entertaining.”
“Obviously, she’s not your type,” Liam continued. “That’s cool.”
“What do you mean she’s not my type?” Derek knew he shouldn’t let himself get drawn into this conversation, but couldn’t help it.
Of course Liam was right, Molly wasn’t his type. Molly was sweet, kind, tender, gentle.
Everything Derek knew he should stay away from. Everything he knew he would destroy if he allowed himself near.
“I just mean you’re not interested or attracted or whatever. It’s obvious by the way I’ve never even seen you touch her before today.” Liam shrugged. “You don’t take advantage of her feelings, which is admirable.”
Yeah, Derek tried not to touch Molly, because every time he did it went further than he wanted. Like a few minutes ago. He’d touched her waist, and all he could think about was sitting her up on that table and kissing her until neither of them even remembered what the word evidence meant.
“Yeah, I wish someone would get that tongue-tied around me,” Jon said. “At least you got her to process the important evidence.”
“Molly works hard, you guys. She’s probably going to be here all night, doing what we asked plus all her other stuff. None of us will be working all night. So stow the comments.”
That shut them up. Good. Derek needed to drag his focus away from Molly Humphries and back onto this case since they were walking into the director’s office.
“Quite a mess today, gentlemen,” Steve Drackett, division director, said as he opened his office door and met them in the hallway. “Walk with me on the way to the teleconference room.”
“Yeah, it was a mess,” Derek told him.
“What happened?” Steve’s tone wasn’t angry or condescending.
Derek explained what happened this afternoon, about the suspect killing himself and the house being burned to the ground. Since no harm had come to any bystanders, it was a little easier to report.
“So today was both good and bad,” Steve said.
“Mostly bad,” Jon muttered.
They made it to the conference room door. Derek opened it and they all moved inside. Steve had been giving daily briefings to a group of DC state officials—a committee of congressmen, senators, members of the Department of Defense and Department of Justice—each day since the Chicago bombing. Since Omega Sector’s Critical Response Division was a multiagency task force made up of the best people each agency had to offer, faster, better and more detailed results were generally expected. And they were expected from people very high up in the governmental food chain.
So not having those expected results, hell, not having any results at all when they reported every day was getting a little old for everyone.
“We’ve got just over seven minutes until the call,” the technician working the room told them. In seven minutes they would be staring down five different government officials on different screens.
“The only good thing to report about today is that it was at least an actual live lead,” Derek told Steve. “We’ve personally followed up dozens since the Chicago attack which have led to nothing. This at least led to something.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah, an important something. Critical enough that your suspect would kill himself rather than be taken into custody. That’s pretty extreme. Do we know who the guy was?”
“Lab is running prints. We’ll know in the morning. Local PD should be bringing the body, too.”
“Yes, I got a report that the body was on its way, should be here within the hour,” Steve told them.
“Hopefully this guy’s ID should provide some sort of clue,” Liam said, settling himself in a corner that would be out of the way of the cameras. Smart man. “But not as much as having him alive for questioning. Sorry, boss, if I’d had any inclination that he would off himself, I would’ve tackled him. I thought he might shoot at us, but not himself.”
Steve shrugged. “You did the best you could with the info you had. Don’t beat yourself up.”
One thing Derek liked about having Drackett as his boss was that Steve hadn’t been out of the field so long that he’d forgotten that sometimes things just went to hell for no particular reason. Steve was probably only ten years older than Derek’s thirty-three years.
“Was anything recovered from the house before the fire completely burned it down?” Steve asked.
“We got out a few potential pieces of evidence. One looked particularly promising. Some sort of communication device. Looks like it could hold pictures or other data, if it can be retrieved,” Derek told him, as Steve took notes. “Molly is rush-processing that for us herself tonight.”
Jon and Liam made eye contact with each other at that, but Derek ignored them.
“Molly’s got to get more people hired in the lab so she’s not at Omega twenty hours a day.” Steve scribbled something else on his notepad. Derek hoped it was a reminder to talk to Molly so she could get some of the lab workload off her shoulders. She looked tired.
Pretty, as always, but tired.
“What I find most interesting,” Derek said, reining in his thoughts, “is that whatever was there, they burnt the building to the ground to get rid of it, definitely using an accelerant. The fire was almost as drastic as the guy killing himself.”
“Which means you were really close to something,” Steve finished for him. “All right, let’s present this to the committee.”
“One minute until the call, sir,” the technician told him.
Steve nodded and looked at Derek. “You ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “Getting chewed out by government officials who really have no idea how to do police work is the favorite part of my day.”
“First caller is connecting now,” the technician announced. Derek and Steve sat down behind the computer that would show all the people on the call, and also make Derek and Steve visible to them.
And great, it was Congressman Donald Hougland. Always the first person on the video call and the last person off. And always the most vocal about Omega Sector’s lack of results with the bombing.
“Gentlemen,” Congressman Hougland said. “Hope we have good news today. Or at least not no news at all, as usual.”
Derek reminded himself not to roll his eyes because that could be seen by the other man.
“Congressman Hougland.” Steve was a much better diplomat so Derek let him talk. “We’re just waiting for the others, and we’ll provide an update. We’ve had a breakthrough. I believe you’ll be pleased.”
“I doubt it,” the older man said. “For an organization that’s supposed to be stellar, I’ve yet to see evidence of that. Of course, I’ve yet to see evidence of anything.” He laughed at his own joke.
Thankfully, the other committee members chose that moment to connect to the conference call so Derek could force himself to swallow his tart retort for Congressman Hougland.
Derek had been raised on a ranch in Wyoming by his reluctant, confirmed-bachelor uncle when Derek’s parents had died when he was twelve. So cursing had been a prevalent part of his upbringing.
But telling a US congressman to kiss his ass was probably not going to help any part of this conference call or overall situation. He could see Steve looking over at him cautiously as if preparing to kick him under the table if he opened his mouth. Derek glanced at him and nodded to let him know he wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
The head of the committee, and much more amiable, Senator Edmundson, opened the conference. “Director Drackett, Agent Waterman, thank you for speaking with us today. We know your time is valuable.”
“Senator,” Steve responded respectfully. “Ladies and gentlemen.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Robert,” Congressman Hougland said, practically cutting off Steve’s greeting to the committee. “Drackett mentioned they have some news. I’d be thrilled to hear that.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.
Annoyance floated over Senator Edmundson’s face before he reschooled it into its polite mask.
“All right, then. Director Drackett, please.”
“Agent Waterman and his colleagues received a tip earlier today while returning from Chicago. They changed route midflight and headed to Philadelphia. Upon their arrival at the location, they were met with gunfire.”
The men and women were listening attentively from their screens. It made for a nice change from the past two weeks when they’d had nothing of any interest to report.
“One man gave chase, and unfortunately killed himself rather than be taken into custody,” Steve continued. “The suspects also burned the location to the ground while the team was chasing the running suspect.”
“So basically, Agent Waterman, you had a more exciting day, but still have nothing to show for it,” Congressman Hougland jumped in. “Is that correct?”
Derek counted to three before answering. He’d once been thrown from a spooked horse and had to walk the four miles home on a broken ankle. He’d survived that.
He could survive this.
“Actually, Congressman, we were able to retrieve a few pieces of evidence from the house before it was totally destroyed. One piece in particular, a communication device of some kind, looks particularly interesting. Although it was damaged by the fire, we’re hopeful the data on it can be retrieved.”
Most of the committee were nodding, at least accepting that this was progress. Not Hougland.
“Hopeful,” he scoffed. “Not exactly confidence-inspiring.”
“All right, Don, let’s stay positive,” Senator Edmundson said.
“The only thing I’m becoming positive about is that Omega Sector might not be living up to its reputation any longer,” Hougland spat back.
Derek’s lips thinned. As much as he disliked the congressman, the man wasn’t totally incorrect. He and the team had been pretty inept on this Chicago case. They hadn’t caught a single break until today.
“We should also have identification of the dead man soon,” Drackett told the committee. “That will also point us in a direction.”
“The body is there now, at your facility in Colorado?” Senator Edmundson asked.
Steve nodded. “Yes, our lab is or very soon will be, running the prints. We’ll also have any other helpful evidence from the body.”
“And the communication device? When will you know if that will provide anything useful?” Hougland asked.
“By tomorrow morning,” Derek replied. He hoped that would be true. “The lab is working on it tonight.”
That seemed to placate everyone. Since there weren’t any other questions from the committee and Hougland had evidently gotten tired of poking holes at their case, Steve said good-night to everyone, promising to keep them posted. After the last of the committee had disconnected from the screens, Derek ran a weary hand over his face.
Jon and Liam stood up from their chairs in the corner.
“I am so glad I’m not you guys,” Jon said. “That was brutal.”
Derek couldn’t agree more. He just wanted to get home, change out of his smoky clothes and shower. The burns on his back and shoulders were still bothering him a little. Everyone said their good-nights, agreeing to meet back first thing in the morning.
Derek partly wanted to go check on Molly, but decided it was better to just let her work on her own since his presence tended to discombobulate her so much. But he hated that she had more work on her plate—probably a whole night’s worth—because of him. Derek promised himself that when this case was over, he would make sure that Steve forced Molly to hire some more people for the lab.
He needed a good night’s sleep. Once they had this evidence in hand, it would hopefully lead them somewhere, and they’d all need to be able to hit the ground running. Derek was still thinking about the evidence through his meal, shower and even as he was falling asleep. Why would someone kill himself rather than be arrested? What was on that device that was worth burning a building to the ground? Molly’s results would point them in the direction they needed to go. He drifted off to sleep with it on his mind.
The phone ringing at 2:42 a.m. jerked him out of his sleep. This was not the first call he’d gotten from Omega in the middle of the night. Derek looked at the caller ID: Steve Drackett.
“Steve, what’s up?” Derek tried to wipe the sleep from his voice the best he could.
“Derek, I need you to get back to HQ right away. There’s been an explosion at the building. I’m on my way in now, but you’re closer.”
Derek was instantly awake. “Like what, a fire?”
“No. I don’t have many details yet, but I know it was an explosion. In the forensic lab.”
Derek could actually feel his heart stop beating. “Forensic lab?” he parroted.
“Yes. And I know there’s at least one confirmed death.”
Chapter Four (#ulink_7cccf6c0-86b2-5af2-859b-70c2460c6044)
Derek’s general idea of “help from above” was a sniper on the roof, but he prayed like he had never prayed before as he broke multiple traffic laws driving back to Omega Headquarters in downtown Colorado Springs.
It was nearly three in the morning. The forensic lab had just exploded. One person was dead.
No matter how much he tried to twist it, there was no way to think that it wasn’t Molly. Who else would even be there at almost three o’clock in the morning?
Acid ate at his gut when Derek thought of the fact that she wouldn’t have been there at all if he hadn’t asked her to stay. To do something specifically for him.
But he categorically refused to assume the worst until there was no other choice. Until he was presented with proof positive that it was Molly who was dead.
He hit the gas harder and rounded a corner, nearly blinded by all the emergency vehicle lights parked at Omega. A uniformed officer stopped him from pulling into the parking lot, but let Derek through when he flashed his badge and ID.
Which saved Derek from having to pull his gun on the man. Because there was no way in hell he wasn’t getting into that parking lot.
Chaos reigned as Derek parked his car far enough away not to hinder any emergency vehicles and jogged over to a small group of personnel who seemed to be directing the efforts.
Behind them he could see the building burning, the concentration of flames largest in the southwest corner. Smoke billowed from right where the forensic lab was located—what was left of it.
“I’m Omega agent Derek Waterman, standing in for Director Drackett until he gets here in a few minutes.” Derek pulled out his ID, but the men barely glanced at it.
“Captain Jim Brandal, with Station 433,” the man closest to Derek, holding a hand radio, said, nodding at him. “You’ve had some sort of explosion in the southwest corner of the building.”
“That’s the forensic lab.” Derek kept the panic out of his voice.
Captain Brandal looked over at the man standing next to him and both of their faces turned more grim. “That’s what we figured. Any hazardous materials there?”
Derek shrugged. He was sure there were, but he didn’t know what. “Almost definitely. You have one confirmed dead?” His throat tightened as he said the words.
“Yes,” Captain Brandal agreed, and then started to say more before stopping to respond to a report from the radio in his hand.
Derek shifted in frustration. Who was dead? Where? Had the ID of the victim been established?
But looking at the smoke from the forensic lab, so much more than from the house fire today that had been minutes from taking his own life, Derek realized no one could’ve survived in there.
Derek steeled himself, forced himself to cut off emotions altogether. It was one of the things he’d become an expert at over the years.
The fire department captain turned back to Derek after his radio conversation. “Sorry. Yes, one confirmed dead. But the good news is that the fire doors in the building instantly shut after the explosion. So there should be very limited causalities outside of the immediate blast site.”
