team?”
“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it.”
I’m not a very good liar either.
I gathered my notes and stepped past her toward the briefing room. All the way there I could heard the staccato click of her heels tracking right behind me.
11
Aaron Jeffrey Kincaid did not think of himself as a violent man.
And, truthfully, if you asked the people who knew him best, they wouldn’t have described him as violent in any way. Thoughtful , perhaps, quiet , maybe, reflective , caring , maybe even loving .
Yes, they might have even used the word loving to describe Aaron, but not violent .
Because really, it was love that had given him the courage to seal his two friends inside the room fifteen hours ago. His love for his family. His Father. His destiny.
In truth, he was a focused man. A passionate man. Those were good words to describe him. Focused and passionate. And loving.
Less than thirty-six hours.
That’s how much time Rebekah and Caleb had left.
Even now as he went to check on them, Rebekah held her hand up to the window, and Aaron placed his hand across the glass from hers, as if they were touching. She didn’t look angry. More at peace than anything. He nodded to her.
“Our love will unite us forever,” she mouthed to him. And he mouthed the words back to her as if she were his daughter and they were whispering bedtime prayers together.
She and Caleb had been even easier to persuade than Jessie Rembrandt had been back in 1985.
It had taken him years of searching and waiting and dreaming. Now at last the time had come.
Last year, finally, he’d found the person he’d been searching for all this time, and the plan had been set in motion.
True, it would have been ideal to have everything happen next month, on the 18th, rather than now, in October. That would have been perfect. But only terrorists and madmen assign more significance to dates than to deeds. And Aaron was neither of those. He was simply a focused, dedicated man in love with his family, fulfilling his ultimate destiny.
In a way it was a shame that Rebekah and Caleb would miss the events on Monday. But really, there was no other way about it. What had to be done had to be done.
He took his hand away from the glass and walked outside. The autumn wind felt cool but also fresh and inviting, promising a change in the seasons.
It made him think of all the wonderful things to come.
12
This is why I hate briefings. Usually I’m supposed to summarize all my years of research in environmental criminology and my experience as a detective and FBI agent in twenty minutes. And of course, I’m usually the only person in the room who believes my investigative approach will actually work.
That’s the kicker.
Ralph was standing in the corner tapping away at something when I entered the tiny, cramped conference room. “What are you doing?” I asked him. He tried to shove the thing in his pocket, but I saw what it was. “A PlayStation Portable?”
He looked slightly embarrassed and shy, which is not easy for someone who can bench-press a truck. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m trying to get good enough to beat my son.”
“Tony is ten, right?”
Ralph nodded. “I can still beat him at football, hoops, wrestling—”
I stared at Ralph’s size. “You wrestle Tony?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Why?”
Well, I thought, you weigh almost three hundred pounds.
Ralph gave a proud papa smile. “He’s a stout boy.”
“Oh.” I wondered just how much Tony had grown in the last few months.
“Anyway, he’s really good at these things, so I’m practicing. Trying to get good enough to beat him at Sorcerer’s Realm IV. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I promise.”
He leaned toward me. “I mean it.” I could tell he did.
“Gotcha.”
It took me a few minutes to connect my computer to the room’s overhead projection system, and when I finally looked up, I noticed nearly every seat had been taken. In addition to Agents Hawkins,
“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it.”
I’m not a very good liar either.
I gathered my notes and stepped past her toward the briefing room. All the way there I could heard the staccato click of her heels tracking right behind me.
11
Aaron Jeffrey Kincaid did not think of himself as a violent man.
And, truthfully, if you asked the people who knew him best, they wouldn’t have described him as violent in any way. Thoughtful , perhaps, quiet , maybe, reflective , caring , maybe even loving .
Yes, they might have even used the word loving to describe Aaron, but not violent .
Because really, it was love that had given him the courage to seal his two friends inside the room fifteen hours ago. His love for his family. His Father. His destiny.
In truth, he was a focused man. A passionate man. Those were good words to describe him. Focused and passionate. And loving.
Less than thirty-six hours.
That’s how much time Rebekah and Caleb had left.
Even now as he went to check on them, Rebekah held her hand up to the window, and Aaron placed his hand across the glass from hers, as if they were touching. She didn’t look angry. More at peace than anything. He nodded to her.
“Our love will unite us forever,” she mouthed to him. And he mouthed the words back to her as if she were his daughter and they were whispering bedtime prayers together.
She and Caleb had been even easier to persuade than Jessie Rembrandt had been back in 1985.
It had taken him years of searching and waiting and dreaming. Now at last the time had come.
Last year, finally, he’d found the person he’d been searching for all this time, and the plan had been set in motion.
True, it would have been ideal to have everything happen next month, on the 18th, rather than now, in October. That would have been perfect. But only terrorists and madmen assign more significance to dates than to deeds. And Aaron was neither of those. He was simply a focused, dedicated man in love with his family, fulfilling his ultimate destiny.
In a way it was a shame that Rebekah and Caleb would miss the events on Monday. But really, there was no other way about it. What had to be done had to be done.
He took his hand away from the glass and walked outside. The autumn wind felt cool but also fresh and inviting, promising a change in the seasons.
It made him think of all the wonderful things to come.
12
This is why I hate briefings. Usually I’m supposed to summarize all my years of research in environmental criminology and my experience as a detective and FBI agent in twenty minutes. And of course, I’m usually the only person in the room who believes my investigative approach will actually work.
That’s the kicker.
Ralph was standing in the corner tapping away at something when I entered the tiny, cramped conference room. “What are you doing?” I asked him. He tried to shove the thing in his pocket, but I saw what it was. “A PlayStation Portable?”
He looked slightly embarrassed and shy, which is not easy for someone who can bench-press a truck. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m trying to get good enough to beat my son.”
“Tony is ten, right?”
Ralph nodded. “I can still beat him at football, hoops, wrestling—”
I stared at Ralph’s size. “You wrestle Tony?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Why?”
Well, I thought, you weigh almost three hundred pounds.
Ralph gave a proud papa smile. “He’s a stout boy.”
“Oh.” I wondered just how much Tony had grown in the last few months.
“Anyway, he’s really good at these things, so I’m practicing. Trying to get good enough to beat him at Sorcerer’s Realm IV. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I promise.”
He leaned toward me. “I mean it.” I could tell he did.
“Gotcha.”
It took me a few minutes to connect my computer to the room’s overhead projection system, and when I finally looked up, I noticed nearly every seat had been taken. In addition to Agents Hawkins,
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