Chapter 2
Chapter Two
An hour later, Kara and Tyler headed to the DA's office to talk to Samantha's boss and coworkers.
The DA, Clayton Montgomery, a smooth political operative in his fifties, described Samantha as fearless and ruthless, someone who wasn't afraid of anything or anyone.
The bigger the challenge, the more she loved it.
She'd received threatening messages off and on for years, but that had never made her shy away from a case.
Montgomery encouraged them to speak to Melanie Daniels, Samantha's legal admin, who told them Samantha was currently working on a financial fraud case, but it was in early discovery, and not all the players had been identified.
As they talked to Melanie, Kara couldn't help noticing that Tyler had a way with women.
While the DA had focused on her, Melanie couldn't stop staring at the rugged man beside her, and Tyler leaned into her attention with a smile so charming, he convinced Melanie to show them Samantha's emails from the last twenty-four hours.
Unfortunately, there was nothing noteworthy in that time period, and without knowing if Samantha was the actual target of the bomb or an innocent bystander, they couldn't dig too deep into her life without more evidence.
Unless, of course, Samantha was able to give them permission.
With that thought in mind, they headed to the hospital, only to discover that Samantha's condition was critical.
She'd made it through surgery, but she had suffered burns across her body as well as serious lung damage.
She'd been placed in a medical coma, and the doctor was somber in his remarks about her long-term prognosis.
He also told them he'd spoken to Samantha's sister, who was flying in later tonight.
Julia had given him permission to discuss her sister's case with the FBI, but they might want to speak to her directly once she arrived.
As they made their way out to the parking lot, she said, "The doctor didn't seem optimistic."
"Even if she survives this critical stage, she's looking at a long recovery," Tyler said. "I don't know that her life will ever be the same."
"It definitely won't be." She shivered, thinking about how she could be in the same position as Samantha.
If her drink had come a second later, if she'd gone into the restroom, if she'd been standing closer to the wall…
so many ifs. But she couldn't focus on what hadn't happened.
She needed to find out who had put Samantha into the hospital bed before they struck again.
"It's almost five," Tyler said as he drove out of the lot. "Do you want to go back to the office? Or I can drop you somewhere."
"The office is fine. I need to get my car. My uncle is a battalion chief with the fire department. He was on the scene this morning. Maybe he can tell me something we don't already know."
"So, you were a cop before you became an agent, and your uncle is a firefighter. Sounds like you come from a family of first responders."
"I do, and I know the best cop and firefighter bars in the city," she said lightly.
"Which group has the better bar?" he asked.
"I'll have to take you to a couple, and then you can decide."
"I'm in," he said with a smile. "Did you grow up in New York?"
"In Queens. How about you?"
"Small town in Iowa."
"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that."
"I enlisted in the Army when I was nineteen. The recruiter told me I could see the world. Of course, he didn't tell me what else I would see." His tone turned dark, then he cleared his throat. "That was fifteen years ago."
"Do you still have family in Iowa?"
"I do, but I don't go back very often."
"I heard you were recently in the Chicago office?"
"Yes. I liked the Windy City, but I was excited to come to New York and work with Jason.
We spent a year together in LA, and he is very good at the job.
" As Tyler finished speaking, he turned into the garage under their building.
He parked, then said goodnight and headed to his Ford Bronco, while she got into her small KIA SUV.
She'd asked her uncle to meet her back at the café.
It felt a little eerie to return to the scene, but she needed to see it again without all the chaos of the morning.
She parked at the end of the block and got out, her steps slowing as she walked down the street, each step taking her closer to the destruction.
What had been a bustling morning coffee shop was now a gutted shell.
The large front windows were completely blown out, jagged shards of glass still clinging to the frames.
Black scorch marks spread across the cream-colored brick facade in a starburst pattern, darkest near what had been the entrance.
The cheerful red awning that had stretched across the storefront hung in tatters, one side completely torn away and the other dangling.
The buildings on either side were dark, their windows boarded up—collateral damage from the blast. The entire block felt abandoned.
But as she drew closer, her uncle got out of a pickup truck he'd left in a loading zone and met her on the sidewalk.
He was off duty now, wearing jeans and a jacket, his messy pepper-gray hair and weary eyes suggesting a long shift.
"Thanks for meeting me, Uncle Danny."
"Whatever you need, although I'm sure you'll see all the official reports from the investigation," he said.
"I will. Some reports have come in already, but I just want to go inside again, see it for myself without other officials around."
"Then that's what we'll do." He grabbed a crowbar from the back of his truck and walked to the entrance, where plywood had been nailed across the shattered doorway. Pulling the plywood off, he set the crowbar down and turned on a powerful flashlight before leading her inside.
As she stepped into the structure, a beam of his flashlight caught the charred walls and collapsed ceiling tiles.
Everything was covered in soot and the chemical residue from fire suppression.
The potent smell of burned plastic and wood made her eyes water.
She had trouble even knowing where they were standing.
All the familiar things were gone, turned to ash.
"The explosive was there," Danny said, directing the beam toward the back hallway where the restrooms were located.
She followed the beam of light, her mind reconstructing the morning, trying to remember who had been standing where, whether she'd overheard any conversation, whether she'd seen anything.
Samantha Barkley jumped into her head, her beautiful black suit, her impeccable style, her sharp, irritated gaze.
She had spent time on the phone. Had she been angry with whomever she was talking to?
Was that why she had been so short-tempered?
They needed to get her phone records, find out who was the last person she'd spoken to.
Turning around, Kara tried to guess where Samantha and the man had collided. But that probably didn't matter, because she knew Samantha had gone to the restroom to clean up.
The man had immediately left the café. The other guy had come in and looked around. Her name had been called by the barista, and she'd picked up her coffee. She'd left a minute later, and the bomb went off.
She sucked in a quick breath, her body still feeling the reverberation and shock of that moment.
"Everything okay?" Danny asked as he turned the light toward her. "Are you reliving it?"
"Yes, but I'm fine. What do you think about what happened here?"
"It feels targeted. Big enough to do significant damage but not take out more than the immediate area. It also would have had to be small enough to fit inside a trash can and be placed there without anyone knowing. I assume there's no security footage from inside the building?"
"Not in that hallway, unfortunately. There were also many people who entered the café the previous evening and earlier this morning who had backpacks with them, including plenty of them who made a trip to the restroom. It could have been anyone."
"You have no suspects then?"
"Not yet. But the woman in the restroom is a federal prosecutor. It's possible she was the target. Or this could have been random."
"A federal prosecutor being critically injured by an explosive device doesn't sound random to me."
"Maybe not. But we can't assume anything."
They stood in silence for a moment, Danny's flashlight the only source of light in the gutted café. The building creaked around them, settling, and Kara could hear traffic in the distance, the normal sounds of the city continuing while this space remained frozen in the moment of violence.
"Do you like your new job?" her uncle asked.
"So far, so good. I'm just getting started."
"You deserve to be working with good people, Kara. People who have your back." There was weight behind his words, and she knew he was thinking about what had happened at the NYPD.
"My boss seems solid," she said carefully. "And the team is experienced. I like what I see."
"Good to hear." He paused. "Did you tell your mom you were here this morning?"
She shook her head, giving him a warning look. "No. And you don't need to tell her. It would just upset her, and I'm fine."
"I get it. Come on. Let's get out of here."
They made their way back to the sidewalk. Her uncle put the plywood back into place to secure the scene. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"No. My car is down the street. I'll see you later."
He gave her an impulsive hug. "Take care of yourself."
"I will." She waited until he'd hopped into his truck and sped away before crossing the street and moving in the opposite direction. She was curious about where Max Malone had been spotted and what he'd seen from that vantage point.