The Trigger (27 page)

“So what are you saying?” Randall eased up on the gas. He was having trouble concentrating, and he didn’t want to miss his turn.

“Tamara came here to rob your restaurant. Emma saw her casing the place, followed her to the motel, and killed her. Didn’t you, Emma?”

“No! Why would I do that?” Emma was shouting, her fists clenched.

“I’m still working on motive,” McCullen said, with forced cheerfulness. “But I think Tamara might have known that Tate wasn’t Randall’s kid.”

It hit him like a blow to the chest. “What the fuck do you mean?” Randall screamed at the phone, but stared at his wife.

“She slept with me about nine months before he was born.”

Another body blow, followed by brain freeze. Randall heard Emma protesting and McCullen sneering, but it all sounded distant and he couldn’t focus on either.

McCullen had one more blow. “I also found Emma’s fingerprints on the murder weapon.”

“That’s impossible!” Emma shrieked. “I wiped—” She caught herself but it was too late.

The dark road in front of Randall curved left and he pressed the accelerator.

“Slow down!” Emma gripped the strap above her door.

Randall ignored her. The exit came up but he flew through the intersection. He wasn’t making a run for it with a woman he couldn’t trust. A whore and a killer. Disgust filled the holes in his belly eaten by anger.

“Randall, please—”

“Shut up! I need to think.”

Ten minutes later, he changed his mind again. He would blow up something today, but not the network building in Sacramento. It was too far away, and the feds would have too much time to stop him. What was nearby? What could he plow into that would wreak havoc?

DigiSpace, the internet company just outside of Redding. He would turn back and drive like a madman into the building. The impact would set off both explosives in the truck.

He and Emma would die. And that was fine with him.

Emma struggled to stop crying. How had all this happened? The last three weeks had been a nightmare! Until recently, her life had been fine—or mostly fine, except for boredom and dealing with Randall’s control issue. Then she’d spotted Randall’s ex-wife spying on the restaurant, and everything had gone to shit. Now they were speeding down the highway in the dark with FBI agents chasing them, and Randall was freaking out and talking about blowing them up.

Panicked, Emma tried to smooth things over. “I didn’t hook up with Caleb. He’s lying to distract you and gain an edge. Cops do that.”

“Yeah? After years of trying, why did you suddenly get pregnant?”

“It happens.” The way Randall looked at her sent shivers down her neck. She’d always known he was a little sociopathic—it was part of the attraction—but he looked murderous. She’d recently discovered that anyone could become that way. “You have to let this go! We’re in a lot of trouble and have to be smart.”

“What about Tamara? Tell me what happened!” He grabbed her hair and pulled her toward him. “Tell me everything, or I swear I’ll run us into the next big tree.”

Emma hated what had happened, and she would never tell him everything. But as she started to explain, that night came back to her in graphic detail.

She’d gone out the back of the restaurant to sneak a cigarette. She’d quit smoking years ago to make Randall happy, but she smoked every once in a while when the stress of the restaurant got to her.

She was staring at the bank next door, not really noticing it, but thinking of something else, when she realized there was a car parked in the back of the lot. Very unusual for the bank at night. The vehicle wasn’t familiar, but the woman in it seemed like someone she knew. The dark and the distance kept her from being sure, but later, when the restaurant had closed, Emma grabbed her purse and went out to check. The car and the woman were still there. Curious, worried, and a little pissed, she headed over. The woman started the car and backed up, but not before Emma realized it was Tamara, Randall’s ex-wife. What the hell was she doing in Redding, spying on their business?

Emma hurried to her own vehicle and quickly pulled out of the parking lot, following the Dodge Avenger. Tamara drove a half mile to the Four Corners Motel. Emma pulled in just in time to see her going into a room near the end. Was Tamara here to cause trouble for Randall? Or mess with her marriage?

She decided to find out. Nervous, but determined, Emma knocked on the door. The room was silent. Finally, she called out, “It’s Emma Clayton. I want to talk to you.”

From inside Tamara told her to go away.

“If you don’t tell me what you’re up to, I’ll call the police and report that you were casing the restaurant.” Emma kept her voice low, not wanting to wake up anyone.

The door opened, and Tamara gestured for her to come inside. Emma noticed that the years had not been kind to Randall’s ex. Her hair was fried from bad bleaching products, her eyelids had gone saggy, and the corners of her mouth were turning down. But she was still curvy and blond, and older men would find her attractive.

The motel room smelled nasty, like sweat or dog hair, and Emma wanted to get the encounter over with. “What are doing in Redding? What do you want?”

“It’s none of your business. I’m leaving tomorrow, so don’t worry about it.” Tamara sounded as if she’d been drinking, but her tone was casual.

“Why were you watching the restaurant? Are you spying on me? Or were you planning something?”

Tamara suddenly lashed out. “I need money. Randall spent all of mine buying that goddamn piece of property and all those fucking prepper supplies.”

“You were going to rob us?”

“That bastard owes me. Give me ten grand and I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again.”

“Are you crazy?” Emma wanted to walk out, but she didn’t trust this woman. “I’m tempted to call the police.”

“I’m tempted to tell Randall that baby isn’t his.”

A knife to her stomach. “You bitch. What do you know?”

“I know that Randall is sterile. We tried to have kids too, and there’s nothing wrong with my goods. I’ve been pregnant twice. Just not with Randall.”

Fear gripped Emma and made her feel on fire. “That doesn’t mean anything. Just leave us the hell alone.”

They both tried to keep their voices down, so they didn’t end up with the manager pounding on the door.

Tamara repeated her demand. “Give me ten grand or I’ll tell Randall you cheated on him and that Tate is not his kid. I’m pretty sure I know who you cheated with too. This is a small town, and I lived here, remember?” She spat the words out in a harsh whisper.

Emma’s thoughts came rapidly, crashing into each other and making her pulse race. Randall would divorce her and fire her from the restaurant. She’d be a homeless, jobless single mother, and everyone would eventually know the truth. Even if she stole the money from The Highland to pay this nasty bitch, Tamara might come back for more.

The woman stepped toward her, menacing. “I’ll give you until noon tomorrow to get the money.” Tamara turned to open the door.

Rage and panic took over. She had to stop this woman now. Emma looked around and saw a lamp with a heavy base. She grabbed it from the nightstand and swung at Tamara’s head. With a peculiar grunt, the woman collapsed on the floor.

For a moment, relief slowed her racing heart. Her secret was safe. But now what? Emma scrambled to think it through. She had to be smart. Had she touched anything but the lamp? No. It was late and probably no one had seen her outside the room. Even if they had, the motel guests would pack up and leave tomorrow or the next day. She just had to buy some time. But what the hell could she do with the body?

Emma remembered the motel had a pool. One that was covered for the winter. She could drag the body into the pool. First she had to get a towel and stop the woman’s head from bleeding into the carpet, then she had to wipe down the lamp base and put it back. She could do this. When it was over, she would forget about it. Tamara was a blackmailer. She couldn’t feel guilty about her death.

Yet she had. Mostly she’d worried about being caught. She’d worried about Randall finding out about Tate. She’d started to resent her life and her husband. Then her mother had called with yet another illness, and Emma had decided to take Tate and leave. To get away from the bad memories and make a fresh start. She’d hoped that getting away from Randall would also help her bond better with her baby. But that wasn’t going to happen now.

So she didn’t tell Randall about wanting to leave… or the truth about Tate’s paternity. She had to convince him to head north, maybe ditch the truck and steal a car so they could lose the feds and run for it. They could still have a life. Or could they? Emma was sick with uncertainty. What about Tate? Would Caleb claim him? She was torn. Maybe she didn’t want a life on the run. Maybe she didn’t deserve to live.

Dallas pushed her speed, glanced at the dashboard clock, and racked her brain for Randall’s likely target. The location of the other buildings worried her too. It could take hours for agents to connect with multiple service providers, access Randall’s emails and texts, and read though the data. If Randall and his conspirators had been careful, the real target names might not even be there.

Could she talk him into calling it off? She’d failed in her last attempt. Maybe she should just let a crisis negotiator handle it. But it could be another twenty minutes before a specialist was woken from sleep, informed, and into position. There was also no guarantee Randall would take a negotiator’s call. She had to try again. Dallas pushed redial and held her breath.

Randall answered on the third ring. “What now, Sonja? Oh wait, that’s not your real name. You lie and sneak and trick people. But then, all women do.”

His bitterness surprised her. He’d been almost exhilarated when they’d talked a few minutes ago. “I’m sorry I lied about my name and my purpose. Emma’s father wanted us to find her. You can understand that.”

“He’s an alcoholic asshole.”

This was getting nowhere. “Randall, you need to call this off before it goes too far. You haven’t done anything wrong yet. Emma’s obviously not going to testify against you, and nothing’s been destroyed. We can work out a plea deal.”

He laughed, the bitterness deepening. “Let’s not forget the assault on a federal officer. Besides, there is so much more going on that you don’t even know.”

“Tell me. I think I’ve earned it. What can it hurt now?” Dallas had to ease off the gas as a farm truck appeared in the road ahead of her. She honked and flew around him.

“It’s too late to stop anything.” Randall’s voice had a catch in it, and she heard Emma crying in the background.
What the hell had happened?

“It’s not too late. Call off your conspirators! We can work out a deal.”

“We’re not turning ourselves in, and our little bombing spree is nothing compared to what’s going to happen in the Middle East.”

The words made her skin tingle. “What do you mean?”

“Raff took it upon himself to start a war between Israel and Syria.”

Adrenaline rushed into her gut, and she tightened her grip on the wheel. “What exactly did he do? Tell me!”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s financial, and I’m sure it’s too late to stop it. The world is about to change in a very big way. See ya.”

The bastard hung up. Dallas glanced at the road ahead and noticed a glow on the horizon but no taillights ahead of her. Would she ever catch up? Had they made a turn? She wished McCullen would check in, but she had to call Gibson again. She would have preferred to call the bureau’s director in Washington, but she didn’t have him in her phone.

A voice command put her through. “Gibson, we have another problem. There’s a hacker named Greg Rafferty out at Destiny. He supposedly tried to start a war between Israel and Syria by moving money around. We should get the secretary of state involved right away.”

“Are you serious? What the heck is in the water out there?”

She could tell Gibson was in his car too, and their connection wasn’t good.

“They have a collective end-of-times mentality.” Dallas switched back to her immediate concern. “Do we have a chopper in the air yet?”

“I don’t know. I’ve made the calls and that’s all I can do. I don’t command any real resources here in Redding.”

“Has McCullen checked in?”

“No. Do you have eyes on anyone?”

“Not yet. I’m worried I missed a turn.”

“Where do you think Randall is heading?”

“Possibly Sacramento. We need to pinpoint tech companies or network hubs in that area.”

“I’ll get people on it, and we’ll send out SWAT teams. Any other ideas?”

“Randall is unpredictable. Something personal happened between him and his wife. He might even be suicidal.”

“Shit. That’s the worst.”

“I know.” Dallas hesitated. “I think his other conspirators might be targeting communication centers. Like Google and Yahoo and other Silicon Valley businesses. What better way to disrupt everything than to take down the internet?”

“We’ll get protection for them as well. First I’ll call the secretary of state. Keep me posted.”

Dallas clicked off, noticing a sign for a junction with Deschutes Road. Had they taken it? Why hadn’t McCullen contacted her? She clicked on the dashboard GPS and saw that a right turn would take her south. She took the exit, hoping Randall had too.

Her phone rang again, and she touched her earpiece. “It’s Dallas.”

“McCullen here. I think I have him in sight now. We passed the 44 junction, so we’re still heading south.”

“I hope you’re on Deschutes Road.”

“We are. Where do we think he’s going?”

“I think he was headed for Sacramento, but he must know he’ll never make it. He seems to be having a personal meltdown.”

“I just gave him bad news about his wife.”

That might not have been the best idea.
“Can you get close enough for a shot at his tires?”

“I’m trying.”

“We could use a little daylight.” The stress of racing in the dark was wearing on her, like a physical pressure. She was also fighting exhaustion from being up all night, and her head ached from the two blows.