He didn’t ask her to clarify. There was no need. Jake’s sights had been firmly set on joining the Arkansas State Police since one of the troopers who lived in their town had made an appearance at the seventh-grade career fair.
“This isn’t how I pictured running into you again,” he said with a wry twist of a smile. His gaze dropped and he nodded to her lap. “Is the phone you received the messages on?”
Jerking slightly at the change in topic, she looked down to where she practically strangled the device she held with both hands. A hot blush crept up her neck. Of course he wanted to see the phone. He hadn’t come here looking for her. “Oh. Yeah. Yes.”
He leaned in closer and extended his hand. “May I?”
She thrust the phone at him. “Here.”
He took it from her. “Do you know how Darien got the backpack?”
“He said a guy gave it to him at one of the midway games. Told him there was a game console in there, but he shouldn’t open it or the big kids would take it away.”
Jake grunted, then frowned at the phone screen. “Security code?”
“It’s 888927,” she recited.
This time, both eyebrows flew up. The heat in her cheeks intensified as she realized he recognized the repurposing of her parents’ old phone number.
“My mom told me your folks moved to Florida,” he said as he keyed in the sequence. The one he’d once kept programmed in his own phone.
“They did,” she confirmed.
“They like it down there?” He scanned the text bubbles. Each message came through to her phone from a different unknown contact.
“Jake, I don’t think this is a great time for a catch-up,” she said, her voice taut with tension.
He blew out a breath. “SMS messages. I don’t suppose you recognize any of the incoming phone numbers.”
She shook her head. “I figure they’re using a random number generator. I’ve been forwarding them to the guy in charge… Something Anson.”
“Aronson,” he said, supplying the name of the SWAT commander who’d summoned all available detection agents to the scene. “Colonel Aronson.”
Cassidy resisted the urge to roll her eyes like she would have when they were young. “Sorry. I was too busy trying to keep the governor, a gaggle of media types and a classroom of kids from getting blown sky-high to get all the details.”
“Gotcha.” He scanned the messages. “And the last one said…”
She nodded toward the device. “The top number. Something about being brave or stupid.” She played it off with a nonchalant wave of her hand, but she remembered the text word for word.
I don’t know if you’re incredibly brave or truly stupid, Lieutenant Walker.
Jake looked up, a furrow of concern digging a trench between his eyes. “Lieutenant Walker?”
“Second Lieutenant, US Air Force,” she intoned through numb lips.
“This is someone who knows you,” Jake concluded.
It wasn’t an accusation. She knew it wasn’t. Still, it felt like one. “Or knows of me,” she retorted stiffly. “My service record is mentioned in my public bio.”
“Where could someone find that bio?”
She shrugged. “It’s on the fair website. Social media.” She tried to shrug, but suddenly the pack on her back seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. “They hired me because they liked my military experience. Used to be based at Little Rock Air Force Base.”
“I see.” He looked back down at her phone. “Not giving us a lot of detail, are they?”
She shook her head then glanced at her watch. It was almost noon. The food vendors expected to provide samples for the press. Her second-in-command, a retired Little Rock police corporal named Bud Thompson, had said a handful of them hadn’t been terribly cooperative when he’d instructed everyone to go to the arena while they assessed the threat.
“Have you looked in there?” Jake tilted his head to glance meaningfully at the backpack.
