Maggie shouldn't have been surprised that A.D. Kunze didn't share Deputy Director Wurth's excitement for the way she had handled the parking lot suspect. Turned out the kid was a sixteen-year-old Sudanese refugee, separated from his newly adoptive mother during the bombing. He spoke pretty good English except the panic had dismantled the pretty good. Raw fear and instinct had brought back too many fresh memories of government police in his country. He did the only thing he knew?he ran. Fortunately he hadn't been hurt.
Maggie, on the other hand, knew she might have a bruised rib or two. Not a good idea to go flinging yourself over car hoods or getting shoved into chrome grills of SUVs.
She was still holding her aching side, allowing Wurth and a paramedic to help her take off her vest. Wurth insisted she get checked out and had taken her to the hotel across the street where a triage area had been set up in one of the ballrooms. To avoid the media, he convinced a paramedic to use a small room off the ballroom. They were able to keep the media out. No such luck in keeping Kunze out. He came marching in and immediately began lecturing her.
'What the fuck did you think you were doing out there, O'Dell? You were just supposed to let them know whether or not the kid was one of the bombers.' He stood over her, hands on his hips, veins bulging in his thick neck. 'We didn't need you running off and playing hero. You could have gotten a bunch of bystanders killed. Not to mention law enforcement officers. We have enough trigger-happy assholes out there without you giving them a good excuse to let loose.'
'That's enough.' Wurth surprised Maggie as much as he did Kunze.
'What'd you just say to me?'
'Shut the fuck up.' Wurth was about five inches shorter and fifty pounds lighter than Kunze but he didn't back down. He stared up at the FBI director and didn't flinch. 'Your agent did a courageous thing out there.'
'Courageous? You think that little game of catch-me-if-you-can was courageous?'
'She prevented an innocent kid from getting killed. And yeah, on a day when we're all looking to shoot up somebody for what happened here, I'd say what she did was pretty courageous.'
'Well, it's too bad you're not her supervisor. Maybe she wouldn't get reprimanded.'
'Reprimanded?' That stopped Wurth.
As for Maggie, again, she shouldn't have been surprised. She said nothing. Just closed her eyes briefly from the sharp pain in her side and finished pulling off the protective gear. Kunze had managed to scare off the paramedic, too.
'Forty-five minutes,' Kunze said. 'That's how much time you two get to clean up before you go live in front of the media and explain what just happened. I'll see you then.'
They watched him leave. He disappeared out the door.
Wurth turned to look at her. 'What the hell did you ever do to that guy?'
CHAPTER 39
Rebecca started to panic again. The ATM at the gas station/minimart next to the hotel had spit out both her debit card and her credit card. She wasn't sure she had enough money for a cab ride to the hospital. Mall of America was clear out here in the suburbs and she knew the hospital was downtown.
She stood inside the station's shop looking out at the swirling snow. God, it was cold and dark. After the explosion, she'd ripped out the lining of her coat to stop the bleeding in her arm. Each time the shop door opened it made her shiver to think about going out walking in that cold again.
She bought a Snickers bar just so they wouldn't kick her out of the shop, although there was a steady stream of people coming and going. She stared out the window, headlights flickering on and off as cars pulled up to the gas pumps or parked at the shop. She could see her reflection in the glass, only glimpses but enough to feel like she didn't recognize herself. Her arm throbbed. She contemplated buying the travel pack of Tylenol for four-ninety-eight, but that would leave her with even less money, less security.
She took small bites of the candy bar, trying to remember when she had eaten last. All she'd had was the coffee earlier at the food court. Leftover turkey and dressing last night at Dixon's grandparents' house. A heavenly feast. God! That felt like days ago. A lifetime ago.
'Becky?'
Rebecca turned to find a woman smiling at her. None of her family or friends called her Becky. Either Rebecca or Becca. But the woman looked like she knew her.
'I thought that was you,' the woman said.
She had paid for her gas and was obviously headed back out the door. Now she moved aside to let someone else out and let go of the door. She was Rebecca's age, maybe a little older, dressed in worn-out jeans and an expensive leather jacket. In one hand, car keys dangled from her fingers, in the other she held a couple bags of chips and her spare change.
'I'm sorry, do I know you?'
'No, not really,' the woman admitted and shrugged as if she was sort of embarrassed. 'I'm Chad's girlfriend. He pointed you out at the mall. I'm on my way to pick him up. Can I give you lift somewhere?'
Rebecca blinked and tried not to gasp. Chad was dead. She'd seen him explode. Did his girlfriend really not know?
'No, thanks,' she managed. 'I'm actually waiting for someone.'
'Really?' The woman didn't look convinced. 'Looks like you got hurt.' She pointed at the bloodied sleeve of Rebecca's coat. 'Crazy what's happened, huh. Chad got bruised up, too. You sure I can't give you a lift?'
'No really. I don't want to miss my friend.'
People were walking in around the woman. She was starting to be in the way of the foot traffic.
'Okay then. See ya.'
Rebecca watched the woman walk back to her vehicle. She looked over her shoulder and waved. Rebecca slid over so she could still see out the window but now over a display of ice scrapers. The woman's van was back at one of the corner pumps, the windshield draped in shadows so Rebecca couldn't tell if there was anyone else in the van.
Was it possible that Chad had survived? Could Rebecca be mistaken? In her panic and shock could she have only thought she saw Chad explode? All of it seemed like a nightmare. A bad movie. Maybe she had imagined it.
She squeezed out of sight while keeping her eye on the van. A quick glance around the shop. The guy behind the cash register was watching. She pretended to look at the ice scrapers, picking one up and checking the price. Another wave of customers came in and the guy was too busy to keep track of her. She replaced the ice scraper and moved to the other side of the shop, close to the restrooms, a spot where her view was only a slice of the gas pumps. But she could see the parking lot's exit and the back lot. She watched the van leave. Slowly it pulled out the exit and onto the street. Rebecca felt her shoulders slump from relief.
She pulled Dixon's iPhone out of her pocket and powered it on. Dixon was her only hope. She found his last text message. She didn't need to know the number if she simply pushed Reply.
She tapped out her message:
U STILL THERE?
Within seconds came the response:
WHERE R U?
A GAS 'N SHOP ACROSS FROM MALL. CAN U COME GET ME?
She waited.
ON MY WAY.
Rebecca leaned against the wall, weak with relief. She quickly caught herself. Glanced around. Cash register guy was still busy. She'd be okay. She'd wait here for Dixon.
Then she saw it. The dark-colored van eased its way slowly to the opposite side of the parking lot, creeping to a stop alongside the back Dumpster.
