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“If so, why didn’t Caleb flee, as well?” Nardi asked.
“I’m surprised Caleb doesn’t surrender,” Kelly said. “He was definitely not on board with violence that morning. He fled the scene, which really pissed off Adam.”
“He’s high on something,” Nardi said. “Not thinking clearly.”
Kelly nodded. “My initial impression was that they were both users.”
“And I think he’s getting higher,” Nardi added. “He’s not coming down anytime soon.”
“Great.” Eyes narrowed, Ballard glanced toward the house, obviously considering his options.
So what would he do now? Stage an assault on the residence? That could result in people injured or dead, including law enforcement. The FBI needed Caleb alive so they could pump him for information about Adam’s possible locations. So would they wait Caleb out? Wait until he crashed? He could possibly OD and they’d never get any intel.
She was an observer, nothing more, a rookie cop without the experience to offer any tactical solutions. But, man, was she ever enjoying herself.
The phone in Nardi’s hand buzzed, the one dedicated to communication with Caleb. Kelly stared at Nardi as she answered.
“Yeah, Caleb. Okay. I’m glad to hear that. Yeah, keep your hands in the air. No sudden moves.”
She disconnected. “He’s coming out.”
“Heads up,” someone shouted. “The door is opening.”
Kelly and everyone else looked toward the residence. Caleb, now sporting a ragged beard, looking even more emaciated than he had in the park, exited the front door. She tensed. His arms were over his head, but a rifle of some sort was suspended in his hands.
Did this fool have a death wish?
She went for her weapon and bent her knees to make herself a smaller target.
“Take cover,” Ballard shouted.
Caleb lowered the rifle and began firing.
* * *
TREY SLAMMED HIS most recent letter from Wentworth Industries’ comptroller onto his desk, pushed back in his chair and scrubbed his palms over his face. He glanced at the time on his computer monitor again. After 11:00 a.m., and he hadn’t heard word one from the FBI.
Or from Kelly.
An hour ago his anger at the lack of communication had grown to fury. Now he was ready to explode.
He’d intended to spend the morning plotting his return to WI. But it had been hours since the FBI’s operation to take down Adam Chandler had begun, so instead he left his desk every twenty minutes to wander around his home, check on Jason, trying not to give in to his worry.
Until he knew what occurred this morning in Homestead, he couldn’t concentrate on anything, much less the questionable decisions his father had been making.
He moved to a window and glanced outside at his pool deck where Jason played, watched over by two bodyguards. Trey smiled at the sight of his son’s antics, grateful his son was happy, safe and secure.
He understood the Bureau’s negligence, but Kelly knew how anxious he was to learn if Jason’s kidnappers had been apprehended. She definitely should have phoned him by now. Or at least sent an impersonal text. She knew he was worried about her.
True, he hadn’t asked her to keep him informed, but he didn’t think he needed to. This silence wasn’t like her.
Something was wrong.
He grabbed his phone. No voice mail. No text. He’d already left half a dozen messages on her voice mail. No point in leaving another.
What if something had gone wrong, dangerously, life-threateningly wrong?
He had to know. But once again he was powerless. As he’d been when Jason was abducted. As he was to help his mother.
If an FBI sting had turned violently sour, there might be something on the noon news. He looked at the pool where Jason still played. He’d probably stay there awhile.
Trey picked up the remote and activated a door concealing a huge flat-screen inside a bookcase. After the door slid open, he turned on the television, found a local channel that featured noon news and sat on the edge of his desk to watch.
He stared at the screen not listening or seeing anything until loud, familiar music filled the room and a voice blared, “Stay tuned for Action News.”
After the station’s graphics ran, an image appeared of an active police scene, obviously shot from a helicopter. Dozens of marked police cars, unmarked cars, uniformed and plain-clothed officers swarmed the area.
