Calculated Risk. Heather Woodhaven

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       FOUR

      It seemed as if a lifetime passed while they waited for the bomb squad to do a sweep of his apartment and Victoria’s car. That hour wasn’t spent twiddling thumbs, though. Jeff endured a lecture from a tall, burly officer. He lost count of how many times the man said, “You left the scene?”

      “As I said before, I believed we were in danger and didn’t think it was prudent to wait around for the cops to show up.”

      The officer launched into reasons why that was a “false” assumption. “You should have called. You made our job harder. Now, explain again why you thought you were in danger, because according to the initial report, malfunction of the engine was listed as a possible cause.”

      Jeff’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

      The officer raised an eyebrow. “Vehicle fires account for 16 percent of fire department responses, sir. The fire started with the engine, emergency response vehicles were called, but unfortunately, the fire reached the gas tank before they arrived. So I’m going to repeat my question: Why did you think you were in danger?”

      Jeff answered, but kept getting distracted by what was happening twenty feet away—on the other side of the parking lot—another officer was questioning Victoria. Jeff’s gut churned as he watched her. What had made him think he could be a hero? If Victoria’s theory proved to be wrong, then both of their jobs would be on thin ice. Only, after they found out about his past, he wouldn’t be of any help.

      A commotion at the end of the building, at Victoria’s car, caught the officer’s attention. He fiddled with his earpiece a moment, then cleared his throat. “Sir, we will be looking more closely at your car. They just found explosives in your friend’s vehicle.”

      Jeff fought a wave of nausea. So the man in the baseball cap had placed an explosive in her car, checked his apartment out, then followed him to the office and put an explosive in his car? How was that possible? “We’re dealing with more than one person,” he said aloud.

      The officer didn’t appear to hear him as he spoke into his radio.

      Jeff raised his voice to get the officer’s attention. “If the same explosive was set in my car as her car, why did mine go off first? Why hasn’t hers gone off? Do you have to turn on the car for it to explode?”

      The policeman pursed his lips and lifted his eyes to the skies. “I’m not an explosives expert, but my understanding is the type of blasting material used is very temperamental.” He shrugged. “A stray cat, a squirrel, a strong vibration of a truck passing...you should be glad we found this one before it came to that.”

      Across the parking lot, Victoria sat on the curb of the road, one arm around Baloo and one hand on her forehead. Jeff wanted to be with her when they broke the news about the bomb. Only a couple of hours ago she’d voiced the worry that someone wanted her dead, and he hadn’t believed her. Would any of this have been avoided if he had? The policeman assigned to her was speaking rapidly. No doubt, giving her the same lecture Jeff had just received about leaving the scene.

      An hour later, the officer finally gave Jeff the okay to go into his town house. No explosives were found inside. He prayed they hadn’t missed anything. Taking the stairs, Jeff hoped his intruders hadn’t been there to rob. With his car gone, his mountain bike was his only mode of transportation, and they better have left it untouched.

      What if the intruder had discovered the fire safe he kept underneath a spare blanket? The safe contained not only his important documents but also his stash of emergency cash, a total of two thousand dollars. Thanks to Uncle Dean, Jeff didn’t believe in banks for emergency uses. Emergency cash needed to be accessed in a heartbeat, not after a long line during bank business hours. It had taken Jeff СКАЧАТЬ