Dash drew out his response. He picked up Carter’s phone. He dropped it onto the floor. He crushed it with his heel. He leaned down. He used his fingers to probe the pieces. Found the SIM card and the battery. The former contained all of the stored information from the phone. The latter kept the signal transmitting the phone’s location.
Sara pressed together her lips. She had seen the text go through. The little blue bar at the bottom had swooped across the screen. The metadata would include the time and location.
Wouldn’t it?
Dash pocketed the phone components. He told Sara, “You know this entire room will be cleaned by tomorrow morning. The bodies will be removed. You won’t even know we were here.”
Sara understood that he wasn’t bluffing. Beau was too thorough. He had even counted out the layers of gauze for his inventory card.
“Well, Dr. Pediatrician. I need an answer.” Dash adjusted the sling around his shoulder. “Can I count on you to help heal our sick little ones?”
She said, “If I leave with you, I’ll never see my family again.”
“Everything is negotiable.”
“What Carter did to Michelle—”
“Is not going to happen to you.”
There was nothing but folly in taking this monster at his word.
Still, Sara told him, “All right.”
He nodded toward the bathroom, permission granted.
She clenched together her fists as she walked past him. She shut the door. She turned on the faucet and washed Carter from her mouth. She dried her face on another towel.
This is what she told herself: The text had gone through. The signal would be traced. The motel would be located. Carter and Vale’s bodies would be found. Beau would be interrogated.
Dash called, “Doctor, I’m going to step outside for a moment.”
Sara listened to the door open in the other room. There was no telltale click as it closed. Dash was waiting to see what she would do. Sara looked around the bathroom. The narrow window mounted above the shower stall showed the tip of a rifle pointed at the sky.
Sara pulled down her shorts. She sat on the toilet. She had to force the muscles to relax. Her bladder was painfully full. The sound echoed against the tiled walls.
She finally heard the click of the door closing.
Will had told her a long time ago that the calmest suspect was always the most guilty. They appeared relaxed because they thought they were in control. They had outwitted everyone. There was no way they were going to get caught.
Dash was a perfect example of this arrogant calm. The way he talked to Sara—treating her with respect, framing his commands as requests, trying to appear amenable and logical—all of these were tools he was employing to control her.
Maybe he had tried and failed to do the same thing with Michelle. So he had turned her over to Carter. Which meant that Dash had known exactly what Carter was doing to the woman. Vale had clearly participated, but he just as clearly was going to die anyway. Shooting him in the chest for the crime of rape made Dash look like an honorable commander.
Sara would respect this veneer of honor as long as it kept her safe.
Dash had no idea that Will was looking for her.
He did not know that Sara was lucky.
8
Sunday, August 4, 4:26 p.m.
Will slouched in the front seat of Amanda’s Lexus as she drove him to Sara’s apartment. His headache had returned, but not with its previous ferocity. The sunlight wasn’t so hard on his eyes anymore. Then again, it was late afternoon, so the sunlight wasn’t as hard on anyone’s eyes.
He told himself that Sara was still alive. That she was safe. Will had stabbed Carter in the groin. He had shot another man in the chest. The third had been unconscious the whole time. None of them would be walking around with their heads up anytime soon. Without Hurley, they might decide to go their separate ways.
Or they might regroup and get stronger.
Amanda stopped at a light. She put on the blinker. She asked Will, “Do you have any questions?”
Will stared up at the glowing red light. He considered everything that she had told him so far. There was only one question. “Your gut says that Carter took Michelle by order of this group, the Invisible Patriot Army. We’ve got proof that they murdered a bunch of cops. They blew up a parking deck. They kidnapped a GBI agent. Even if you take Martin Novak’s possible involvement out of the equation, they’re still terrorists. Why isn’t the FBI balls to the walls going after them?”
Amanda gave a heavy sigh. Her hands were tight on the steering wheel. Instead of answering his question, she said, “Ruby Ridge. A US marshal was murdered. Randy Weaver’s wife and son were killed. The standoff lasted eleven days. Weaver was acquitted. The family was awarded three million dollars in a wrongful death case. The FBI was publicly eviscerated.”
The light turned green. Amanda took the turn.
“Twelve months later, there was the siege at Waco.” She took another turn onto the road to Sara’s apartment. “Four agents murdered, six wounded. Eighty-six Branch Davidians killed, many of them women and children. The entire nation watched the compound burn. No one blamed the child molester leading the cult. The FBI was torn apart. Janet Reno never fully recovered.”
“Amanda—”
“The Bundy standoff. The Occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge. Armed militias tried to seize federal land and when the smoke cleared, most of them were acquitted by juries of their peers. Two anti-government arsonists received presidential pardons.” Amanda slowed the car to turn into Sara’s building. “Most of the agents at the FBI are hard-working patriots who believe in our country. But then there are some who are blinded by politics, and others by ideology. They’re either terrified to make a decision because of the political fallout or, worse, they agree with the groups they’re supposed to be locking up.”
Will said, “Send me in undercover. We don’t need the FBI. These are state charges on state land. I’ll get the evidence to—”
“Will.”
“You said yourself that the IPA is planning something big. All the signs point to it. That agent—Van—he said it to Faith in the meeting. The chatter—”
“No reporters. That’s good.” Amanda looked for a parking space. “I asked Sara’s family to keep their mouths closed. I didn’t take her mother for discreet, but perhaps Sara’s father persuaded her that we actually know what we’re doing.”
Will didn’t think Sara’s mother was persuadable. “Amanda—”
“If this stretches out, you need to impress upon them both how important it is that we keep Sara’s name out of the public domain. It’s bad enough the IPA has Michelle. If they realize they have a medical examiner, a special agent with the GBI—”
“I want to go undercover. I’ll take the risk.”
She had pulled into a parking space by the front door. She turned to Will. “You will not. I won’t repeat myself. The subject is closed.”
They had seen Will’s face. Carter and the man who’d identified himself as Vince were still out there. The minute they recognized Will, they would kill him.
He looked at his watch.
4:28 p.m.
He asked, “How long are you going to hold back the fact that we’ve captured Hurley? You could make it seem like he’s talking to us, use him as bait to lure them out.”
“That’s APD’s call.”
Maggie Grant was running point on the bombing investigation. She was also one of Amanda’s oldest friends. There was no way they weren’t coordinating.
He asked, “Do you really think Hurley’s going to rat out his team?”
“I think he needs a few more hours to consider his limited options. We only get one chance to flip him. That can’t happen if his face is on the cover of the New York Times. He’ll turn into a martyr for the cause. These men thrive on notoriety.” She told Will, “I have it on authority that Carter’s mugshot is going to be leaked. Not that blurred image from the hospital CCTV. His actual mugshot. He’s searchable in the felon database. The reporters will do the rest of the work.”
Will rubbed his jaw. His fingers felt stiff. They were cut and bruised from being repeatedly punched into Hurley’s face.
Amanda said, “We are doing everything we can. And I promise you, Sara is doing everything she can to get back to you.”
Will wasn’t sure there was anything that Sara could do. They had no idea where she was, or even in which direction she was heading. Her Apple Watch had been found in the woods near the burned-out BMW. The Walkie-Talkie message to Faith had disappeared seconds after it was recorded.
Why hadn’t Sara tried to reach Will? Had she remembered that his phone was in the shed? Or did she blame him, too?
My son-in-law would’ve never let this happen.
Cathy’s voice sounded so much like Sara’s. When Will replayed the words in his head, it felt like the indictment was coming from both of them.