Chapter 47

forty-seven

DYLAN

At two o’clock the next morning, I sat at the kitchen counter, studying a document on my laptop. I hadn’t been completely honest with Alex when I told him there was nothing we could do. There was plenty. Only most of it was happening in Washington, D.C.

A week ago, Ryan Bryant had contacted some people he knew at the Department of Defense. What they’d told him hadn’t been reassuring. After reviewing everything that had happened, there were too many overlapping events to make the Haqani Army’s actions a set of random coincidences.

What Alex said was true. The terrorist cell had to be stopped, but it would take more resources than anyone had anticipated.

I leaned forward as I read about each person in the EMP project team.

Alex’s boss, Richard Leigh, was a respected member of the special operations task force. He was divorced and raising his two daughters on his own. By all accounts, his quick, intelligent mind and quirky sense of humor made him a good project leader. With no criminal convictions or affiliations to other groups of interest, he hadn’t raised any red flags.

The man who was involved in the car accident was still in the hospital, but out of intensive care. Married with three children, Elijah Jackson lived an hour from work. He spent most of his free time restoring old vehicles and was a valued member of the team. I glanced through his work history. There were no international appointments, nothing to suggest he was involved in the Haqani Army’s plans to steal the EMP software.

I turned to the next person’s profile. Searching for trigger points was like looking through a telescope, hoping to find proof that there was life on Mars. The eighty-page report only scratched the surface of what motivated people. The usual stress indicators were there: divorce, the death of close family members, health scares, and unexpected financial issues. But that didn’t mean any of the EMP team would commit cyberterrorism.

None of Alex’s colleagues had criminal convictions, their family lives seemed relatively stable, and no one had a history of unpredictable or erratic behavior.

I turned to another profile and sighed. There were a lot of factors that made someone a likely candidate for blackmail. Looking through the document could be a complete waste of time, or I could be missing the obvious.

I kept reading for another half hour before pushing my laptop away. What was I missing? Out of every profile I’d read, Alex’s boss made me the most uneasy. Why did Richard Leigh raise red flags for me and no one else? Being a single dad didn’t make you more likely to help a terrorist organization. But it did make you more vulnerable, especially to groups as unscrupulous as the Haqani Army.

I checked my watch and walked toward Alex’s new workspace. Connor and Jeremy had brought everything from his old office and left them in Jonathon’s house. At the moment, the photos and documents were spread across a table. Seeing them in a different setting might unravel the confusion in my mind. Or create even more questions.

A wooden stair creaked.

Spinning around, I yanked my gun out of its holster, pointing it at the staircase.

Alex froze. “It’s me.”

I took a deep breath. “You should be asleep,” I whispered.

He walked down the last few stairs, totally oblivious to what could have happened. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d make myself a hot chocolate. Would you like one?”

I thought about my open laptop, the report I didn’t want Alex to see. “Sure. I’ll turn on the kettle.”

Moving quickly, I closed the lid of my laptop and filled the kettle with water. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Too much on my mind.”

“We’re here to help you. Leave the worrying to us.”

Alex took two cups out of the cupboard. “That’s easier said than done.”

I watched him open the canister of cocoa powder. “You aren’t worried about your appointment at the hospital, are you?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been doing the exercises, and Jonathon’s happy with my progress. How’s your brother?”

“It depends on which one you mean. Luke’s gone back to work. He’s returned all the wedding presents that were mailed to him and paid for the things he couldn’t cancel. Steve’s thinking of starting his own family therapy center. He’s looking at different properties.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “In Boulder? ”

“No. Most of the buildings are north of Boulder. Steve wasn’t like me. He never wanted to leave home. But after Luke’s wedding fiasco, he wants to try something new.” I watched Alex pour hot water into the cups. “If you know anyone who wants a three-piece pinstriped wedding suit, let me know. If Luke can’t find someone who wants it, he’ll donate it to The Suit Vault.”

“The only person I know who’s getting married is Riley. I’m almost certain he’s organized a suit by now, but I’ll ask.” Alex tilted his head to the side. “This might be a silly question, but what’s The Suit Vault?”

I smiled. It was good to talk about something that didn’t involve guns or terrorists. “A few years ago, a group of friends gave the suits hanging in their closets to a guy who’d had his best mens’ wedding suits stolen. A story about what they did appeared in the newspaper and, before they knew it, suits from around the country were sent to them. The group of friends give them to people who can’t afford new ones. Some of the suits are for weddings, others are for jobs. Last year, they opened an office in an old bank. That’s why they’re called The Suit Vault.”

“It sounds like the perfect good news story.”

“It is for the people they help.” I handed Alex a cup of hot chocolate and picked up mine. “I should go back to your office and check the security cameras. If you need anything, just text or call me.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll stay here for a few more minutes, then go back to bed.”

I took my laptop off the counter and left the kitchen. At least I dodged one disaster. The next one might not be so easy to avoid.