Annandale, VA
12:02 PM Monday, January 19
Brynn’s nerves buzzed with adrenaline . . . or maybe it was the beginning stages of frostbite? She hustled over to where Jack and FBI Agent Brett Samson were huddled, careful not to slip on the snow.
The discovery of the supplies to make the fake IDs and uniforms were enough to warrant the FBI’s interest, but it was the schematics of electrical diagrams and the blueprints of buildings, including a power grid outside Houston, that had their full attention.
“Anything?” Jack asked, holding out his hand to help her step over a mound of snow.
“Nope.” Brynn released Jack’s hand, then rubbed her fingers together to keep them warm and also minimize the effect of his touch. “Neighbor, Peggy Miller, is a stay-at-home mom of four.” She tipped her head to the yard where three kids were tossing snowballs at each other. “She recently had her fourth and didn’t pay much attention to her neighbor’s house.”
“I’ve got agents taking photos inside.” A snowflake landed on Agent Samson’s cheek, the contrast nice against his ebony skin before he wiped it away. “We’ve got a van on the way over, so when they’re done, we’ll tag and collect the evidence.”
“Wait.” Brynn looked from the agent to Jack. “What if they come back? Shouldn’t we wait so we can take them into custody and find out what they’re doing?”
Agent Samson shook his head as another agent stepped around them and headed toward the house. “No one’s coming back.”
Brynn could feel the frustration rising. She needed this lead. Needed to know how this was connected to Riad. “How do you know that?”
“One of my guys inside the house checked out some of the schematics you found. They’re mechanical and electrical for circuit boards and power systems.”
“And diagrams,” Jack added, his breath fogging in front of him. “The power grid in Texas, right?”
“Yes, and another one for the Metcalf power station in Santa Clara, California.”
Brynn’s pulse jumped, recognizing the name. “Wait. There was an attack on a power station a few years ago.”
“Yeah, in 2013. A group of snipers opened fire on the transformers.” Agent Samson rubbed his hands together. “It was professional, planned out, and a wake-up call to how susceptible we are to domestic terrorism.”
“Do you think someone is planning another attack? Is that what all those diagrams are for? The uniforms?” Her stomach churned. She looked between the two men, her thoughts swirling like the snowflakes falling around them. “Was that why Seif El-Deeb and Tarek Gamal were here? Maybe that’s what brought Riad here.”
“We’re seeing an uptick in cases where terrorists are incorporating human trafficking into their plots.” Agent Samson sighed. “The promises of education, money, and power can be alluring to those in dire circumstances.”
Brynn’s gaze locked on Jack’s, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing. Seif El-Deeb’s wife, Heba, had a high-risk pregnancy. He had exchanged his life for theirs, and where had it got him? Anger began to take root. “We need to find out who was living here. How they’re connected to El-Deeb and Gamal.” Her eyes moved to Agent Samson. “Did you work with Joseph Ansari?”
Agent Samson tipped his chin. “Not directly.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But someone was watching him the day I met with him.”
“Mr. Ansari monitored the members of his mosque because he believed religions could coexist peacefully. If someone voiced radical ideas, he’d keep an eye on them and report their behavior if necessary.” Agent Samson’s eyebrows lifted. “We weren’t watching him the day you showed up, but your 911 call triggered our system.”
Brynn crossed her arms in front of her, trying to rub away the chill seeping into her bones. The squeals of Peggy’s children next door had multiplied, and she noticed a few more kids had joined them. “So Mr. Ansari hadn’t been worried about anyone recently?”
She understood the FBI often got the brunt of scrutiny when it came to their powers of investigation. They wouldn’t infringe on any person’s freedoms, but after 9/11 the lines sometimes became blurry. Two Middle Eastern men learning how to fly planes in Florida or a kid becoming enchanted by terrorist propaganda in an online chat room from his basement in Boston only became a problem after they committed their heinous acts of terrorism.
“As far as I know, no. But I’ll make a few phone calls to be sure.”
A rumbling noise of a car engine drew her attention down the street. A gray van was headed their way, its exhaust sending a smoke plume behind it. It was driving fast. Too fast for the slick conditions as she watched the front tires slide a bit before gaining traction again.
“Your guy needs to slow down,” Brynn said, glancing over her shoulder at the kids playing. They had, like the boy earlier, taken advantage of the empty street and were using the slope of it to slide down on colorful discs.
Jack and Agent Samson looked over their shoulders at the vehicle still driving too fast.
“That’s not my guy,” Agent Samson said.
Brynn’s heart lurched when she saw the van picking up speed and heading straight for the kids.
“Get him to stop!” Brynn turned on her heels and began yelling at the kids. “Get out of the street. Car! Get out of the street!”
But either the wind was carrying her voice in the opposite direction or the little earmuffs and hats covering the children’s ears were muffling her warning shouts. Behind her, Brynn caught sight of Jack and Agent Samson running toward the van, arms waving in the air to get it to slow down. Brynn thought she heard the van’s engine rev. Was this bozo going to hit these kids?
Her feet sank into the snow as she charged across the lawn. The door to the house swung open and Peggy stepped out, looking confused and then horrified when she realized what was happening. Her screams were muffled by Brynn’s.
“Car!” Brynn kept shouting until one of the kids looked at her like she was nuts, and she pointed at the van. Thankfully, the kid responded by jumping to the sidewalk and then urging his friends to do the same.
Except for the kid about to take his turn sliding down the street. He sat on a sledding disc and rubbed his mittened hands together. He looked over his shoulder, only to realize no one was watching him. His eyes flashed behind him to the van, and his face crumpled in fear. Instead of getting up, he sat there like he was frozen to the spot.
Brynn was maybe five feet away from the boy when her foot hit an icy patch on the street, sending her legs slipping. She fought for her balance as she saw the van in her peripheral vision still coming toward them. Finding her footing, she made it to the boy in time to shove his shoulders hard, sending him careening out of the street and into a wooded drainage area, where he was smacked to a stop by a tree.
She turned, the headlights of the van all she could focus on before squeezing her eyes shut. The force of the impact surprised her, knocking the breath out of her lungs and landing her hard against the ground. There was a large cracking noise and a sharp pain shot through her left arm, causing her to cry out.
“Are you okay?”
It took Brynn a second to realize she hadn’t been hit by the van but by—
She opened her eyes. Jack was lying across her, his face red, his breath warming her nose as he peered down at her. He shifted, and it felt like a knife had sliced through her arm.
“Ow!” She winced. “My arm.”
“Hang on, we’ll call for an ambulance.” Jack rubbed his thumb over her cheek before sitting up, then used his hands to carefully cradle her head as he lowered it to the ground. He looked her over from head to toe and back up. “Anything else hurt? Your head?”
Brynn cringed as the pain in her arm increased. She’d never had a broken bone in her life, but if she had to guess what one felt like, it would be this. “No, I think it’s just my arm. Might be broken.”
A crowd of tiny faces soon surrounded them.
“Are you okay?”
“You saved her life, mister.”
“Can you push me down the hill too?”
Brynn frowned at the little boy who’d made that last comment.
“An ambulance is on the way,” Agent Samson said as he jogged over. “And the police. I’ve given them a description of the van.”
“I have a photo on my cell phone,” Peggy said, raising a hand clutching a baby monitor. She caught Agent Samson’s confused look and then lifted her other hand, the one holding her cell phone. “My husband is always complaining about me being on my phone.” She made a “that’ll teach him” face.
“Ma’am, I’ll get the photo from you in a minute,” Agent Samson said. “But would you mind getting the kids out of the street, please?”
“Oh, sure.” She blushed before her attention turned to the kids. “All right, everyone in my house for hot chocolate.”
Sirens echoed in the distance, and Brynn heard some of the kids beg to stay and watch. But like a drill sergeant, Peggy ordered them into her house. Keeping her left arm tucked to her waist, Brynn tried to roll herself up to a seated position. Jack’s hand stopped her.
“Don’t move until the ambulance arrives. You might have internal injuries.”
“I don’t think I do.” Her arm throbbed. “Just my arm.”
“So stay still.”
The snow was falling heavier now, big flakes landing on her face and eyelashes, which reminded Brynn of her mom’s favorite movie, The Sound of Music. She blinked against the wet snow, deciding it was not one of her favorite things.
“I can sit up, Jack.” She smiled at him. “Does Walsh pay you extra when you save people’s lives?”
The worry lines on his face deepened as his soft gaze searched her face for a second before his lips thinned and his expression turned serious. “No.”
Brynn wasn’t sure why, but Jack’s lack of appreciation for her humor and the look in his eyes made her feel like she had somehow done something wrong. Should she not have protected the kid?
“I c-can’t believe that guy was going to hit those kids.” Brynn’s teeth chattered as big snowflakes landed on her face.
Jack glanced back at Agent Samson, and a message passed between them.
“What is it?”
“Brynn, I don’t think the van was going to hit the kids,” Jack said. “The van was aiming for you.”