As promised, it took the man less than ten minutes to show up at Raegan’s door. Atwell gave Liam a quick explanation of the situation, and the brilliant computer whiz took over from there.
“Let me see what I can do,” Liam took the bagged laptop from the federal agent’s hands.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Rocky’s teammate carried the computer over to the coffee table and sat down on the couch. “I still have to get into this thing.”
Atwell turned those pretty blue eyes of hers Liam’s way. “From what I’ve been told, if there’s anyone in the city who can do it, it’s you.”
Liam slid his focus from the computer he’d already begun to power up to the powerful woman. “Flattery will only get you so far, Agent Atwell. If I can’t?—”
“Didn’t think ‘can’t’ was in your vocabulary, Cutler,” Rocky reminded the most intelligent man he knew.
“That is true.” Liam nodded confidently. Linking his fingers together, he inverted them as he pushed his joined hands outward, stretching his arms in front of him as if preparing for achallenge. “Okay, give me some time with this baby, and I’ll see what I can do. But while I work on this, why don’t you guys fill me in on what you know about the bomb?”
Rocky had called Christian earlier to fill him in on all the terrifying details regarding Samer, the kid in lockup, and the bomb. As Delta’s team leader, Christian then spread the word throughout the rest of the team so the others would be prepared should anything more transpire with the case.
“We know one’s been built, and Samer has it.” Raegan stood with her arms crossed at her chest. “That’s pretty much it.”
Chiming back in, Atwell added, “Only one of the three young men we have in custody is talking. Same kid who hit Raegan’s bank. He’s the one who told us about that.” She motioned to the laptop Liam was trying to access. “Samer’s decision to keep it hidden at the house didn’t make much sense to me. Then again, I’m not some psycho extremist trying to kill innocent Americans.”
A tiny shrug lifted the brunette’s shoulder as Raegan began to nod.
“Samerispsychotic,” she stated bluntly. “He’s also a textbook narcissist, a chauvinist asshole, and a murderer.”
“Ask me, the guy sounds like a peach.”
Before anyone could respond to Liam’s obvious attempt at sarcasm, Agent Atwell’s phone began to ring.
“Excuse me.” She pulled it from her pocket and stepped to the other side of the room to talk.
Rocky’s focus slid to Raegan, who looked as anxious as he’d ever seen her. “Hey.” He placed a palm on her middle back and gave it a gentle rub. “We’re getting closer.”
That mesmerizing stare of hers lifted to meet his. “Not close enough.”
“Not yet, but we’re making progress.” Atwell rejoined them. “That was my team. They found a van fitting the description ofthe one Raegan spotted at the house down the road. It was left at the backside of an abandoned lot near East Garfield Park. I’m headed there now.”
“We’ll follow you.” Rocky didn’t bother asking permission.
The woman had come to him and his team for help, and she was going to get it.
“Y’all have fun with that,” Liam offered without looking up from the screen. His fingers flew over the keys as he continued with his efforts to access Samer’s computer.
“Let’s go.” Atwell took the lead and headed for the door.
Rocky and Raegan fell in line behind her. What would normally have been a ten-minute drive only took seven as they raced to the area near Garfield Park where the FBI and CPD were already on scene.
“That’s it.” Raegan positively identified the van as they were climbing out of his F150. “Or, at least, it was one just like it.”
Assessing the area, Rocky took in the number of government-issued vehicles on scene and the bright, flashing lights illuminating the otherwise dark sky above. But his focus was pulled to the white van parked next to an abandoned brick building a few yards away.
The shiny new van stood out like a sore thumb against the conflicting backdrop of one of the city’s most rundown areas. Several federal agents worked in and around it as they scoured it and the area around it for evidence.
“Oh, I’d say it’s his.” He motioned toward a pair of men talking near the van. The wordsBomb Squadwere printed in bold white letters across their black protective vests.
“Agent Beckham!” Atwell approached one of the members of her team.
Thirties. Tall. Dark hair. Intense, intelligent stare.