“Hmm, we’ll see if you’ll be saying the same thing here soon,” Green told him.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Smoke challenged, losing the last of his laughter. He was in no way, shape, or form getting married.
“I think someone’s mentioned the name Amira a time or two hundred since we left Fiji,” Green said. “That’s all I want to point out.”
Smoke took in a deep breath before answering. “She’s hot,” he finally said.
“That’s all? She’s hot?” Green pushed.
Smoke sealed his lips. He wasn’t saying anything more. He didn’t want to make excuses for why he felt so obsessed with a certain doctor. He didn’t understand it himself so there wasn’t any way he’d be able to explain it to his teammates. He’d have to give it some time. Then he’d figure it out.
The rest of the drive to the Veteran’s Center was covered in laughter as the two men changed the subject from women and uncertainties to one-upping each other. Only brothers who trusted each other fully could laugh as hard at themselves as at one another — like these men did as often as possible.
They pulled up to the gates of the center and were waved through. They were much more subdued as they made their way to Travis’s room.
“I’m glad you guys didn’t waste any time getting here,” Sheriff McCormack said when he met them at the elevator. Two additional uniformed officers were with him, both holding evidence boxes and bags. “As Joseph requested, the room’s been quarantined since the incident.”
“No one’s entered yet?” Smoke questioned. He knew going into an area where evidence had not been tampered with was as good as it got.
“Not a soul on the law enforcement side, and I trust the security here when they say they haven’t been in. We’re walking into a clean area,” the sheriff clarified.
“Do you have the key, or do we break down the door?” Smoke asked. He wouldn’t mind kicking in a door right now, it had been far too long since the last time he had, but he was being professional and knew doing so could harm the scene. He’d have to take it out on a punching bag later. He’d broken more than a few through the years of intense training to become a third-degree black belt in Krav Maga.
“We’ll unlock it,” McCormack said with a deadpan expression. “Let’s glove up.” He passed out the hand protection. Smoke knew there was a chain of custody on anything found so he didn’t complain that the sheriff was taking the lead. They all put on gloves.
“I want you officers to stay on guard at the door while Tyrell and Hendrick go inside with me. The less people in the room the better,” Sheriff McCormack told his men who nodded, no one seeming put out by his words. He’d earned a lot of respect from his men.
Before the sheriff could enter, Smoke put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me go first,” he said. That earlier anger he’d been feeling started to return and he had to push it back down.
“Tyrell—” Sheriff McCormack began when Smoke interrupted.
“It’s unlikely the room has traps, but I guarantee, of everyone here, I have the most experience with this. It’s best if I secure the room. Trust me, I’ve seen the worst of humanity and what a bad guy is willing to do to others.” He paused as he smiled at both the sheriff and Green. “Besides, if something does go wrong, you two have family to worry about.” He winked at Green. “Little Green here, he just dipped his noodle for the first time in his life, and I want him to get to experience it at least one more time. No need for him to go up in an explosion.”
“This is why we don’t take him out very often,” Green said with a roll of his eyes. “But if he wants to play Mission Impossible, I say let him.”
McCormack chuckled as he stepped back and held out his hand. “Have at it my friend,” he said.
“You two and the other officers stand back at least twenty feet,” Smoke said. Once they’d moved, Smoke slipped the key into the lock and slowly opened the door.
He pushed the door only a couple inches before checking the jambs to make sure no wires or devices were hooked to it. Once he was assured it was clear, he pushed it open more and poked his head inside the room. It was dark, the only light was flowing in from behind him, and it wasn’t much. The shooter had taped something over all of the windows.
Smoke reached for the light switch and felt around it before flicking it on. When his gaze adjusted to the light, he let out an agitated groan, comprehending, but not believing, what he was seeing.
“What in the hell?” he whispered as he pushed the door fully open. The men behind him had been silent as he’d breached the room.
“What’s happening, Smoke?” Green called. He was respecting his friend, staying in place, but that was about to end with Smoke’s reaction.
“There’s no danger, come on over . . . but holy hell,” Smoke said. He moved forward. McCormack and Green were on his heels.
When all three men were standing in the center of the room, Green’s and McCormack’s eyes filled with shock, their voices stolen from them, they couldn’t seem to do more than look around. How twisted was the man they’d never get answers from? What had happened to him?
Every inch of space on all the walls, each of the windows, both sides of each door, and the entire ceiling, was filled with newspaper clippings, hand-written notes, and photos. There seemed to be no order to the chaos. It was pure madness from a man who’d clearly lost his mind.
The scariest part was it was all focused on one person — Katherine Anderson.
“Holy shit,” McCormack uttered as he turned and looked at the corner of the room. Smoke and Green focused on what he was seeing, and they gasped. In the corner was a crudely made mannequin that had to have at least a few hundred photos of Katherine’s face plastered all over the thing.
They circled the room, not knowing what to think or say. Then Green stopped. “Smoke, look at this,” he said in a hushed tone.
Smoke moved over to the small desk where Green was standing, the surface covered in mounds of papers that had no order to them at all. Smoke picked up one of the handwritten notes, then read it out loud.
She didn’t come see me today, but tomorrow I know she’ll be here.
KA can’t stay away from me for more than two days.
Each minute we’re apart my mind begins imploding on itself.
“I have no doubt KA is Katherine Anderson,” Green said.
“Yeah, that’s obvious,” Smoke said.
Smoke continued flipping through the papers, lifted another one, and began reading it aloud. Other than Smoke’s voice the room was deadly silent. This felt like a tomb.
Who does she think she is? It’s been five
days since she came to me. She knows I can’t
get to her. She put me here without any way out. I can’t
even call her! Why did she do this to me? It’s worse
than prison not being able to see her. Maybe she has me