Wrong Number (8 page)

“When are you going to tell me what you
do
know?” Aubree folded her arms.

Edwards cleared his throat and gave her a crooked smile. “That’s what I was coming to do.” He motioned to the door. “Mrs. Nelson, if you’ll come out here, we have another agent waiting to brief you on the details of the funeral. We have to be careful of what’s said to protect everyone. We don’t want you to mention you were contacted at home by the perpetrator.”

Aubree shivered involuntarily, thinking of the perpetrator who was now her enemy. For that was what he, or they, was—the worst kind of enemy anyone could dream up.

“It’ll be all right. I’m sure they’re just being overly cautious.” Madeline bent down to hug her daughter.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” Aubree said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened.”

“It’s not your fault. Now don’t worry yourself anymore. I’m glad to be with you.” Madeline carried the baby blanket she had been crocheting with her as she exited the room.

Edwards sat in the folding chair Madeline had occupied. “I wanted to tell you that the FBI has taken a major interest in this case. You’ll be seeing a lot more agents and the local police will still help, but Officer Haskins and Detective Rawlings probably won’t be around much.”

“Oh.” Aubree felt disappointed she wouldn’t be seeing Officer Haskins’ kind face anymore. Agent Edwards rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and Aubree stared at the tattoo winding around his arm. The flame was dark orange against his tanned forearms. The hair on his arms and head was sun bleached. She glanced at his green eyes, absent of smile lines. He was all business, and Aubree wished she could escape from the details of her case.

A shadow flickered back and forth across the room, and she glanced at the window. The shade was pulled halfway, and she could see tree branches swaying in the wind, interrupting the dull light of her room.

Agent Edwards rubbed his thumb against the edge of his notebook; the shuffling sound seemed to keep time with Aubree’s nervous heart rate. She glanced at the pile of green file folders in his lap and then back at him.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and cleared his throat. “Everything I tell you has to be kept in strict confidence. You will not share any information with your mother, and you should know your room is under surveillance.”

“As in video?”

“And microphone,” Edwards said. “It’s not because we don’t trust you—that’s how the room is set up in this facility.”

Aubree tried not to feel defensive, but she was failing. “So I’m basically being held here like a criminal?”

“No, this is the CBI, remember? I want you to understand that everything you are going through is for your protection.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s for my own good.” She looked toward the window again, wishing that she could enjoy the sunshine on a carefree day.

Edwards furrowed his brow. “As a matter of fact, it is. The case you’re involved in has been upped to a level of national security.”

“What!” Aubree sat up straighter in her chair and bumped her drink on the meal table. Edwards caught it before it spilled.

“I can’t believe what a mess I’m in.” She put her head in her hands and took a deep breath.

Edwards tapped the files with his fingers and cleared his throat again. He rubbed his hand over his hair, which was cut nearly to a buzz. He met her gaze, and now she noticed worry lines around his eyes.

“Last night we placed a decoy in your home to see if anyone came around. But no one did. By this afternoon, when no one had even driven by your house, we were beginning to feel like maybe we’d overreacted.” Edwards held up his hand before Aubree could agree. “But then we discovered the identity of the person we found in the manhole.”

Aubree’s shoulders slumped. “So because of who this person is, I’m still not safe?”

“Yes. The identity of this person has us worried about the funeral tomorrow and your safety.”

“Can you tell me who it was?” She clasped her hands together.

“That has to do with this briefing. We found him because of the information you gave us.”

“His uniform?”

“We collected information on all missing persons in the last twenty-four hours and narrowed it down to only those who wore a uniform of some kind.” Edwards flipped open a file and showed her a picture of a huge naval aircraft carrier.

Aubree leaned forward and examined the photo. “The USS
Midway
?”

“So you’ve been there?”

“Devin and I went last summer.” Aubree winced when she said Devin’s name, but she let the memory wash over her. They had spent a few hours at the retired aircraft carrier-turned-museum in San Diego Bay. It had been exciting to see inside a real aircraft carrier because her dad had
served in the navy. Dozens of cramped stairwells winding throughout the belly of the carrier had made the deck of the
Midway
even more appealing when they had climbed to the top of the sun scorched airstrip.

“But they don’t have uniforms there, do they?” Aubree tried to remember, but she didn’t think the retired naval officers who had helped guide some of the tours had all looked the same. It was a busy place, though. She remembered hearing that the flagship of Desert Storm had about three million tourists per year.

Edwards pulled out a few more pictures of the
Midway
. “No, several of the guides wear the same hats and a polo shirt with USS
Midway
emblems, but the uniformed person missing was head of the night security watch.” He tapped his foot and looked at Aubree. “We wondered why anyone would feel the need to murder a security guard at a popular tourist attraction. Then we realized it may coincide with a special visit from the secretary of defense. He’s planning on visiting the naval carrier on Friday—that’s tomorrow.”

“How would killing a security guard get them close to the secretary of defense?” Aubree rubbed the back of her neck. “Are you sure my case is connected to all of this and not to Devin’s gambling?”

“We asked the same question. And we’ve come to the conclusion that Devin’s gambling didn’t have anything to do with his murder.” Edwards opened his briefcase and took out a few files. “Remember how I told you one word could be very important from the conversation you heard?”

Aubree nodded.

“You heard the word
intruder
, which by itself was a bit puzzling, but when we added it to the security guard at the USS
Midway
, we came up with something different.”

Edwards pulled out a map that displayed airplanes of different shapes and sizes and pointed to a picture of a jet. “This is an A-6 Intruder on the flight deck of the USS
Midway
. It sits right in front of the Island Superstructure, the tower housing the bridge and primary flight control.”

“I remember climbing up there during the tour to see all the controls,” Aubree said. They had waited twenty minutes for their tour. The inside of the tower was hot, and Aubree recalled wiping sweat from her forehead and fanning herself with a map of the
Midway
.

“Secretary of defense, Robert Walden, will be delivering an address in front of the Island Superstructure tomorrow. He’ll be standing next
to the A-6 Intruder.” Edwards tapped the picture, and Aubree’s breath caught in her throat. The voice from the phone call repeated in her mind:
The Intruder will clear the way
.

Edwards lowered his voice and continued. “We called in our police dogs and, in conjunction with the bomb squad, they discovered an explosive hidden in the Intruder on the deck of the ship.”

Aubree covered her mouth for a moment before speaking. “They were going to assassinate the secretary of defense? But why?”

Now Edwards didn’t look so confident. “We don’t know yet. Perhaps it was some left-wing, anti-war group. We’re searching the chatter to see if any organizations are discussing plans involving the secretary of defense.”

“I think I did hear something about him coming. A lot of people will be there, right? Is he still going to come?” Aubree asked.

Edwards nodded and rapped the file folders with his knuckles. “They’re taking all threats into consideration, but I think he’ll still give a speech. The Secret Service would’ve swept the entire carrier before his arrival, but I doubt they would’ve found the bomb in time without this lead. It took hours to find and dismantle it.”

“So you’ve foiled their plan. I should be safe now, right?” Aubree gave him a hopeful glance.

Edwards chewed on his bottom lip and shook his head. “We don’t know why they wanted to kill him. We don’t know who they are. You aren’t safe yet.” He touched her arm gently. “I want you to know we aren’t going to put you in even the smallest degree of danger. Every loose end has to be tied up, and until then, you’ll be in protective custody. There’s a good chance this is why they killed Devin and Tidmore, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

Aubree swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “Okay.”

“That’s all you need to know right now. Try to get some rest.” Edwards stood and walked to the door. He paused before he turned the handle as if he were going to say more, but then he sighed. Aubree watched the door close behind him and listened to the clock ticking again.

Agent Jason Edwards walked down the hall of the private facility. He hadn’t told Aubree Stewart everything, because he didn’t want to
scare her into a state of shock. He didn’t tell her she definitely was not safe in the slightest degree or that he was more worried for her life than he let on. Because now he had a suspicion he couldn’t shake.

Her house had been too quiet—no one had come by. Even with the decoy in plain sight, no one had visited. No one had tried to delve into her personal identity; the FBI had used special Internet tracking programs to trace all of her online accounts. He was pretty sure he knew the reason. No one had tried to check up on Aubree Stewart because whoever was behind this plot already knew exactly where she was and everything about her.

S
EVEN

H
OW CAN THE SUN
shine today?
Aubree thought. The black dress stretched tightly over her body, soaking up the heat. The back of her neck beaded with sweat. Murmurs of comfort from others were muffled by the anxiety she felt.

Devin’s funeral was sparsely attended because of the FBI’s stipulations. Aubree knew it would’ve been that way anyway, because she and Devin didn’t have many close connections in San Diego. Some of their neighbors came, but they didn’t know Devin very well. All the same, Aubree was grateful for the support. Madeline stayed close to her side the entire time, fielding uncomfortable questions and keeping the visits to a minimum.

Though the whole ordeal only took a few hours, it felt like days to Aubree. The fear for her future was a distraction from the pain, and she couldn’t concentrate on the changing tide of her life. She felt like a dishcloth that had been wrung out too many times, the fabric thin with fraying edges.

When Edwards escorted Aubree and Madeline to the cemetery, she noticed several undercover agents filtering through the crowd with earpieces trailing down their shirt collars. The sun illuminated the bright white of the lilies on Devin’s casket, but in a few hours they would be wilting from the heat—they would resemble the state of her life.

When she returned to the private care facility, the halls were quiet, and Aubree felt like she was walking through a fog. Madeline hugged her and rubbed her aching back. “It’s probably best if you rest now, dear.”

“I know, Mom, but I feel so empty,” Aubree said. “I tried to pay attention—to absorb these last details of Devin, but my mind kept wandering to everything he’s going to miss. Everything I’m going to miss.”

“I did the same thing at your father’s funeral.” Madeline squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s tough, and there’s no way around it, but after a time I came to realize he would want me to be happy.”

Aubree shook her head fiercely. “How will I ever be happy? My life is over! I don’t even know when I’ll be able to see you again.”

Madeline put a hand on Aubree’s stomach. “Your life is just beginning. I know you can’t do it now, but before this baby is born, you have to give yourself permission to feel joy again. In so many ways, my life began when I became a mother. Devin wouldn’t want you to cheat yourself from happiness, and he would want you to be happy for this child.”