Chapter 37
CHAPTER 37
J asmine kept clicking through the images. Her head throbbed, but the painkillers dulled it to a manageable ache. She was careful not to take too many. She needed to focus.
That woman mattered. She could feel it.
“You don’t have to do this, Mom.” Ryan sat beside her, sipping a Coke Anna had grabbed for him from the break room. “You should be resting.”
“I’m fine, darling,” she said, patting his knee. It felt incredible to have him beside her, safe. He’d told her all about Pat, about how he’d taken down Amir with his bare hands after shooting him in the shoulder. She couldn’t wait to thank him in person.
Finding out who that woman was? It was the least she could do to repay Pat’s team for everything they’d done.
Behind her, Anna spoke urgently into her comms. The sharpness in her tone sent a ripple of unease down Jasmine’s spine.
Ryan noticed it too. He turned, eyes narrowing.
Something was wrong.
“There’s a protest near the Capitol Building,” Anna was saying, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “And a concert at The National Mall, but I’m not seeing anything else big enough to be a target.”
Jasmine’s stomach turned. “What’s going on?”
Anna exhaled. “There were no real bombs at the arena. The entire thing was a diversion.”
Jasmine’s pulse spiked. “They—They didn’t find any devices?”
Anna’s expression darkened. “Oh, they found them. Dummies. Every single one. Fake triggers, fake explosives.”
“Holy shit,” Ryan muttered.
Jasmine shot him a look, but she barely had the energy to scold him.
“But I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would Adam kill himself if he only built fake bombs?”
Anna’s fingers tensed on the desk. “Your husband didn’t build fake bombs. The real attack is happening somewhere else— and it’s today.”
The words landed like a hammer.
Another attack.
Today.
Jasmine’s throat tightened. “W-Where?”
“That’s where you come in.” Anna turned, urgency burning in her eyes. “Think, Jasmine. Did Amir or his cousin say anything? A location, an event. Anything that could tell us where the real target is?”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on, Mom. Think!” Ryan urged.
She clenched her fists. Damn it. “I didn’t hear any of their conversations. I was locked up most of the time.”
“Did they mention a protest? Maybe an environmental group?” Anna pressed.
“No… I don’t think so.”
“What about the concert?”
“What concert?” Ryan cut in.
Anna pulled up an event schedule. “It’s part of the Independence Summer Festival. Main act goes on at six. Some young rock band, Midnight Riot . Their warm-up act is The Outlaws .”
“ Midnight Riot is awesome,” Ryan said. “I’ve never heard of The Outlaws , though.”
Something stirred in Jasmine’s memory. A conversation from Amir’s house.
She closed her eyes, reaching for the moment.
“I’ve never heard of them,” Riad had said.
Amir had laughed. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll be famous after this.”
“Oh, my God. I think that’s it.” She told Anna what they’d said.
She paled. “When was this?”
“At Amir’s house, before I met Patrick. But I don’t know if?—”
Anna was already typing furiously, pulling up a layout of the National Mall.
She keyed into the comms. “Pat, we’ve got a new lead. The Independence Summer Festival. Jasmine remembers Al-Jabiri and Riad talking about the bands.”
Ryan kept his eyes on Anna while Jasmine turned back to the database of terrorist affiliates.
Then, she stopped cold.
It was her.
Dark headscarf. Kohl-lined eyes. A glare like burning steel.
Jasmine’s stomach twisted. She knew that face.
“Anna!”
Anna lifted a hand, still on comms.
“I’ve found her!” Jasmine shouted.
Anna spun, her gaze snapping to the screen. “You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.”
Anna’s voice dropped. “Ameera Mousa. Born in the U.S. to Iranian parents. Husband’s serving time in ADX Florence for terror-related charges. She’s on a watchlist, but low risk.”
Ryan frowned. “Wait, so the government just keeps tabs on people like this?”
“As many as they can,” Anna said. “There are too many to track all the time. Some slip through.”
Jasmine’s hand tightened around Ryan’s. She couldn’t stop touching him, she was so glad he was alive. A deep graze ran along his cheek, but he was whole. Safe. Physically, at least.
She knew better than most—some scars ran deep.
Anna straightened, all business. “Great work, Jasmine. I’m sending this to Pat now. Go grab some food in the break room.”
Ryan perked up—because teenage boys could eat in any crisis.
Jasmine stood, but as she stepped toward the door, she heard Anna say, “Last known address is Anacostia. Sending the details now.”
Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. Pat wasn’t coming back any time soon. He and the other operators were in a race against time.
Could it be the festival?
She thought of Amir’s cold, glittering eyes.
A rock concert. A massive, young, Western crowd.
Yes.
That’s exactly where he’d strike.
Another Boston.