Striking Distance

“I feel sick when I think of all the people who died because of him.” Laura couldn’t say his name. “Drew, my cameraman. Nico, Cody, and Tim, my security team. Sabira Mukhari, the safe house director. Ali Al Zahrani. Sean Michael Edwards. They all died because he wanted to kill me, to get back at me for doing my job.”

“Believe it or not, bella, the person he hated most was himself. He wanted to believe he was Special Forces material, when some part of him knew you were right—he was just a loser.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a true sociopath until today. I should have known from that first interview that something was wrong with him. He got so . . . personal.”

“Nah, how could you? You genuinely care about people. He was a manipulator. Hell, that mamabicho used me to commit murder. I thought it was strange that Edwards was laughing, but I never would have thought . . .” Javier’s eyes closed for a moment, and Laura knew he felt remorse. “I wish I’d kicked the shit out of the poor guy instead of pulling the trigger and killing him.”

The conversation drifted, and soon Laura found herself telling him about those last terrifying minutes when she thought she was going to die.

“Random thoughts started running through my mind. How bad I felt for my mother and grandmother that they would have to go through this again. How I hoped they would keep up the fight to free Klara. How much I wished . . .” Laura’s throat went tight. She swallowed. “How much I wished I’d gotten to hold my little girl.”

Javier stroked Laura’s hair. “One day, you will.”

Oh, she hoped so.

“It wasn’t all regrets. I felt so grateful for every moment that I’ve spent with you. It might sound strange, but I was glad I was going to die as myself and not as Al-Nassar’s victim.”

“It makes sense to me.” Javier held her closer. “Strength of the spirit is harder to build than physical strength, and you fought a battle of spirit today. I heard what you said to him. You kept your fear under control. You were a warrior.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“A hunch.”

She listened as he told her how he’d remembered that the dynamite had been stolen from a construction site in Adams County. When Zach had told him the construction site was just to the north of him, he’d decided it couldn’t be a coincidence. Kimball hadn’t had much time to plan and was falling back on something familiar.

“Your hunch was right. Lucky for me.”

“Lucky for us both. When I saw your car . . . Ay dios mio.” He swore softly in Spanish. “I haven’t felt that way since the State Department declared you dead. It hit me in the gut so hard that I . . . All I knew was that I had to get to you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

He’d never told her he loved her, but Laura knew it all the same. Those words were proof to her. She wrapped her heart around them, held on to them.

“You’ll be leaving on Sunday. I’m going to finish the VA story tomorrow morning, and then I’m taking the rest of the day and Friday off. I don’t care what Tom has to say about it. I want to spend that time with you.”

Javier kissed her temple. “I’d like that.”

* * *

LAURA WENT INTO the paper the next morning and rewrote the VA article, pulling out the bogus interview that Kimball had given her, and left the paper early, telling Tom not to expect her till Monday.

Tom wasn’t happy. “You do plan on returning to work full-time at your full-time job at some point in the near future.”

“Yes, starting Monday.”

“And when Carmichael needs to interview you for a follow-up piece on your abduction and all this shit with Al Zahrani and Edwards—”

“He can call me at home.”

She arrived at the loft to find a surprise waiting for her.

Derek Tower.

The only thing more astonishing than the sight of him sitting on her sofa was the fact that Javier hadn’t thrown him out.

“I didn’t call because I knew you’d say no,” he said. “I came to apologize. I was hired to keep you safe, and I failed. I’ve read the report. I know how Kimball turned your cell into a roving bug. I’d heard of that technology, but never imagined anyone outside federal law enforcement or military intelligence could get their hands on it. I wish I’d taken it more seriously. I’ve already issued a statement to the press retracting my allegations against you and taking responsibility for Tower Global’s failure to protect you. Bottom line, Ms. Nilsson, I owe you, and I’m a man who pays his debts.”

He handed her his card. “Call if you need me.”

Laura was left speechless.

* * *

LAURA AND JAVIER had just come back from dinner at the Wynkoop Brewing Company, the restaurant they’d have gone to if the paper hadn’t been car-bombed, when Zach and Petras called and asked to come by.

Zach went first. “Over the past twenty-four hours, we’ve been following Ted Hollis’s trail—that’s Theodore Hollis Kimball—and we’ve been able to piece together a good picture of his activities using his cell phone records, a laptop we found in his motel room, and the information he gave you, Laura. Fill them in if you will, Petras.”

“Kimball has been hiring himself out as a mercenary in the Middle East for some time, using a series of aliases and falsified documents. But after you came back to the U.S., Ms. Nilsson, he began working his way back here. He arrived in Denver roughly four months ago and began planning to kill you. He probably followed you, observed your routine. We know he studied the location of city surveillance cameras.”

Petras told them how Kimball had gotten reacquainted with his old war buddy Sean Michael Edwards, taking advantage of the man’s cognitive disabilities to use him to buy materials for the bomb. Always careful to wear gloves, he’d mixed the ANFO and assembled the detonator at Edwards’s house.

He’d found Ali Al Zahrani’s name on a list of members of the Middle Eastern Connection, a student club, and had followed Ali and learned his daily routine. After that, he began visiting the Al Zahranis’ home when no one was home to plant evidence for investigators. He wanted to make the bombing seem like an act of terrorism.

“On the morning of the bombing, he shot and killed the boy when he was on his way to class, stuffing him into his own car, packing it full of ANFO, and rigging it to explode. Careful to avoid streets with surveillance cameras, he drove it to the newspaper, parked, and walked a few blocks away to a coffee shop, which is where he was when he detonated the bomb.”

A cold chill ran down Laura’s spine. “He told me he wanted to hear me die.”

“He didn’t get that chance, did he?” Javier said.

“When the car bomb didn’t work, Kimball waited for another crack at you,” Zach said. “That opportunity came when he heard about your appearance on Channel Twelve.”

“A very ill-advised television appearance, I might add,” Petras said.

Zach ignored him. “We’ll probably never know exactly what went on with Edwards. We believe Kimball tried to get Edwards to hate you—which may explain the photos of you on his wall. Most came from old articles about the investigation that exposed them. It could be that he hoped to use Edwards as a weapon against you, Laura, but that didn’t work. Then Kimball decided to use Edwards in another way. If he could convince police they’d found their killer, your security detail would be called off, and he’d have another chance at you. All the evidence was in place—the traces of explosives at Edwards’s apartment, the firearms Kimball stored there. All he had to do was put Edwards in an incriminating position—and make sure he couldn’t talk.”

Javier finished the thought. “So he groomed Edwards to commit suicide by SEAL, playing games with those replica pellet guns, and then handing him the loaded M1911 with the painted muzzle.”

Laura squeezed Javier’s hand. She knew how much he regretted causing Edwards’s death.

“That’s it exactly,” Zach said. “And it almost worked. You played a key role at a critical moment, Corbray. You both played key roles in this. Laura, your insights into what had really happened with Ali Al Zahrani were vital.”

Petras took over again. “From what we can tell, he planned to go into hiding for a while, but then you called