“Not directly, no. The FBI’s still trying to sort out the events, but it’s early, and there’s no indication of who, if anyone, the shooters were associated with.”
“But you think this goes deeper than a trio of disillusioned twenty-something white males with mental health issues.”
“Yes,” Diane said. “There was zero chatter on the dark web in advance. No hints, no planning, no boasting, no warnings on any of the usual chan boards. It’s like these guys came out of nowhere, and they don’t fit the typical profile of mass shooters. Investigations are ongoing, but so far, nothing adds up. I don’t believe in coincidence, Adam. Neither do you. Tak arriving in Boston before the rest of the JTT is a huge red flag. You need to get your team out of the city. ASAP.”
“In case you’ve forgotten,Director.You were supposed to get back to me with a proposal for us to work together days ago. As it stands, the JTT doesn’t take orders from you, so unless you have any other intel to share, we’ve got shit to do.”
“Wait!” Diane ordered, her usual unflappable demeanor cracking around the edges. “It took longer than expected to get my people to agree to the terms you set, but I just received the clearance I need to bring you on board. We can get into the particulars later. But right now, it’s imperative you and your men stay off the radar.”
Adam shook his head. “Can’t. Got a man down, and we’re not leaving him behind.”
“You know what’s at stake here, Adam. Jamie Snow’s cover is blown. He’s injured, on the run, and he won’t get far with every federal agency on the lookout for him. He’s a liability, and we can’t risk national security for the sake of one man. You need to cut your losses and get out of Boston before Johnson’s men pin you down.”
“Don’t shovel your national security bullshit my way,” he snapped. “My team comes first. Always. If you want the JTT to play nice, send me everything you have on Johnson and his backers. Until then, we’ll do whatever’s necessary to survive the shit storm that’s coming. You know how to reach me.”
With a stab of his finger, Adam ended the call.
“Motherfucker,” Zander said. “You think this whole thing was an elaborate setup to get the JTT out into the open?”
“No.” Brow furrowed, and arms crossed over his chest, Chase shook his head. “The JTT as the primary target makes no sense. If that’s Tak on camera, he would have arrived in Boston before Jamie even made the decision to come. And if they were after Kosamina, why stage a mass shooting when they could have taken her at any point?”
“Yeah, the timing’s off,” Cody added. “And if the dude is Tak, why the fuck is he walking around Boston a free man and looking directly at surveillance cameras instead of calling in for an exfil? He’s a ghost ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time. He knows how to avoid detection. It’s almost like he wanted to be seen.”
“Diane’s right. None of this is adding up,” Chase said, the lack of response serving as agreement.
“What now?” Jay asked, looking to Adam for direction.
“Call Grant and tell him to get everyone together,” he replied. “We’ll need all hands on deck to figure this one out.”
* * *
Even with thedefrost set to nuclear blast levels, the windshield on Summer’s decrepit Corolla couldn’t compete with the below-freezing temperatures of northern Montana in December.
Snowflakes danced in front of her eyes, landed on her window, melted, and then turned to slush, obscuring her view where the wipers couldn’t reach. Didn’t matter. The velvety blackness of a winter night had descended, and she only needed to see the road in front of her face to get where she was going.
Still in shock from her abrupt dismissal, her entire body shook as the sign for Kalispell flashed in the distance. Twenty miles to go. She flicked her gaze to the fuel gauge. Less than a quarter tank, but enough to get her into town and to a gas station.
Relief flooded her as she lifted her eyes back to the road.
Once she made it to civilization, she’d figure out what to do next.
Low on money, her options were limited, but at least she had a plan to make it to Monday when she could collect her final paycheck from Mrs. Bloomsberry, and hopefully line up a new nanny position before the holidays.
Unlikely, but maybe with a little luck, she’d—
Her heart clutched, and her stomach bottomed out as the car started to slide.
Black ice.
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, careful to keep the tires pointed in the direction she wanted to go, but her tiny hatchback continued nose-first toward the guardrail on the driver’s side.
She crossed into the oncoming lane, and headlights blinded her.
A horn blasted.
No! Oh, no. No. No.
About to die, Summer would have preferred to close her eyes. Squeeze them tight. Let her end come to her in a dark oblivion. But unfortunately, her gaze had locked onto the semi-truck and trailer barreling toward her, the chrome grill, a vicious gaping maw about to eat her alive.
