Too early on a Saturday morning, Aaron entered the lobby of Andrews Security. He had no desire to be there, especially after leaving Justin at the front door of his apartment building. They agreed to meet up later that night if Aaron's work permitted him the time. Justin stood on tiptoes, pulled Aaron down and gave him a passionate kiss - a kiss that said more than words could have. He turned and left as Aaron got into the cab.
Aaron was greeted by the smiling dispatcher, who knew the look on his face and didn't hesitate to ask, "You either have a nasty hangover, are pissed that we interrupted your morning sex with some hot guy, or both?"
Aaron felt the blush rise up his face, didn't answer the question, and walked to the side wall that contained the employee mail slots. In his was a bright red envelope, nothing else. He looked at it; saw his name, and the Andrews Security office address. He was puzzled, but before he could open it, the dispatcher said, "That arrived in the morning mail drop, stud. It seems you have another admirer. I'd suggest you put that into your lab, before you go into the conference room. I'm sure you wouldn't want Akerheart or Natalie seeing that in your hand when you walk in."
Aaron got coffee from the pot in the lunchroom then stopped at his lab to drop off the envelope and his laptop, before approaching the conference room. As he entered the door, he saw Akerheart, Natalie, and Hank sitting at the large table in the middle of the room. There, on the table, were pictures. He froze, remembering the last time Hank showed him pictures. His blood chilled, his body almost shut down.
Seeing the terrified look on Aaron's face, Hank immediately understood the problem and said, "It's okay Aaron, there is nothing here that would remind you of Kristoff's ordeal."
Aaron tentatively walked into the room, took a seat between Natalie and Akerheart and looked at Hank avoiding the pictures.
"Yesterday morning, Gillert Taylor's trip to work was interrupted when his car exploded. Fortunately, for him, he clicked his keyfob to open the doors about twenty feet from the car. He was greeted with an explosion that thrust him ten feet into the air. EMTs transported him to hospital, where he was treated for minor cuts, abrasions, and a bump on the head from his neighbor's fence post," said Hank handing pictures to everyone in the room.
"Was anyone else hurt?" asked Aaron looking at the burning cars in one of the pictures. "Was anyone in the other cars? These came from CCTV? Did anyone run the footage prior to this?"
"The cops are doing that right now, but we want your eyes on the footage too. Taylor's neighbors had not left for work yet, so the only thing they lost was their cars, not their lives."
"I'm baffled that the bomber wasted his efforts and didn't kill the victim," said Natalie.
"Maybe he had no intensions of killing anyone with this bomb," said Akerheart as he looked at another picture.
"Then why blow up the car, if he didn't intend to kill the driver or passengers?" asked Natalie.
"As a warning message," said Aaron as he brought the street cams onto the conference room screen. "What is the address and what time did this happen?"
"Quarter past seven, yesterday morning," said Natalie as she watched Aaron's fingers on the keyboard. She was always amazed that he could talk, type, and think with the intensity he showed. It was as if each part of his body had its own brain.
The monitor on the wall showed footage of the street. Taylor's car was visible in the dim morning light. At first, there was no activity. Then a late model vehicle appeared and slowly drove until it reached Taylor's car. Two men, dressed in black with black hats that hid their faces, quickly exited. They took up position on the driver's side of Taylor's car, and seemed to be placing a package beneath the vehicle. One of the two looked toward the house and signaled with a head movement that the other should go back.
The car was quickly driven from the street leaving one person on foot. He walked to the end of the block and waited. The license plates were covered with something, preventing identification.
Aaron fast-forwarded through the video footage as the Andrews team watched the man. He had walked about 500 feet from the parked car, sat on a street bench and waited. At quarter past seven, the door to Gillert Taylor's home opened. As Taylor walked from his home, the man on the park bench pulled something from his pocket. The bomb exploded. Gillert was thrown from the blast.
The man stood and quickly walked from view, as the street became a beehive of activity. No one seemed to notice the stranger as he walked away.
"He did it. He detonated the bomb, not Taylor's keyfob," said Akerheart. "If he wanted Taylor dead, he would have waited until he was inside the car. I agree with Aaron. This was a warning, but why?"