A few hours later, Yasmine didn’t get the sense that the doctors were planning to discharge her anytime soon. There were several policemen stationed directly outside her door, Noel kept jumping up to talk on the phone with a worried expression on his face and nurses kept coming in to take her blood or ask her how many fingers they were holding up. It was getting tedious.
While Noel was on the phone yet again, a knock at the door revealed a nurse with a tray of lunch. She set up a tray table and raised the bed so that Yasmine could eat while seated. The tray contained a barely appealing meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, boiled carrots, yogurt and a banana. A glass of mystery juice sat on the side.
“This is lunch?” she asked the nurse’s retreating figure. “I like bananas, at least.”
She lifted the glass of juice and sniffed. It smelled like a combination of orange and grapefruit, and the pale pinkish color suggested that it was probably a citrus-based beverage.
“Don’t drink that.” Suddenly Noel was beside her, plucking the glass out of her hands. “Do you know that nurse? Did you ask where the food came from?”
Yasmine gaped at him. “First, I wasn’t going to drink it because I’m allergic to citrus. Second, she’s been in here at least twice today, and third, no, I did not, because why would I?”
Noel grunted and crossed his arms. “We can’t be sure it’s safe. I want to know that a trusted hospital staff member had eyes on this tray the whole time.”
“I mean, I’m sure it’s not great food, but aren’t you overreacting a little?”
“Did you say you had a citrus allergy? They should know that. Why did they give you this juice?”
Yasmine sighed. As sweet as it was for Noel to be so concerned, he’d leaped to acting overprotective in a single bound. “I wasn’t awake to fill out the meal request form, so they just gave me whatever they had the most of. And the allergy thing is probably just an oversight.”
“Don’t think so.” Noel grabbed the tray and slid the contents into the garbage before dumping the juice in the sink. “We’ll get you a fresh meal. I’ll have someone put eyes on it.”
“The police have better things to do than play food manager.”
“Then I’ll call in backup or do it myself.”
“Noel! You’re acting absurd!”
Noel stopped pacing and stared at her. His tense features softened. “I’m not. I’m trying to do the best I can to keep you safe, is all. I’m just… I’m still learning, and my hands are tied since right now, all we’ve got is a local charge of attempted murder. Nothing federal. I have no authority here.”
Yasmine understood that. Coming fresh out of training at the Academy and being immediately thrown into a situation with shots fired had to be nerve-racking. “You’re doing fine. I’m sure of it. You’ve been on the phone a lot, so I know you’re doing something, at least.”
“Oh.” His cheeks turned a light shade of rose. “Some of those calls are with my assigned FBI mentor, letting him know what’s going on here, but a lot of them are from your aunt or my mom with bakery updates. They keep asking me to tell you stuff, but I figure you don’t need that extra stress. They’ve got it under control.”
Yasmine tensed, imagining fires in the kitchen and exploded bags of flour all over her pristine countertops and floors. “It doesn’t sound like it, if they keep calling!”
“Trust me. It’s fine.”
But nothing about his comment seemed fine at all. She pushed the tray table down to the end of the bed and threw off the blankets. Before Noel could stop her, she’d pulled out the IV in her arm and swung her legs over the side. Her brain said that the movements should hurt more than they did—that the dull ache all over and especially around her ribs was being suppressed by some serious painkillers—but she couldn’t stay here a minute longer.
Noel blanched. “What are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You said the hospital isn’t safe. That was hours ago. If someone is out to kill me, they’ve had time to formulate a new plan, right? I mean, if poisoning my lunch wasn’t the new plan.”
“Sorry about that. I’ll send for more food if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m more concerned about getting out of here and having that talk. Why aren’t you?” She stared him down, fully aware that it would be only a matter of time before the painkillers wore off. “I need to find my street clothes.”
Noel released a deep sigh as if he’d fought hard to resign himself to her actions. “Stay here. I’ll ask them to discharge you and explain why. You’re right that it’s not safe here. We should get you to the precinct. We can set up a place for you to lie down in one of the rooms there, and I’ll make sure you get the necessary pain medication to remain functional. But if I do this and get you out of here, can you promise to take it easy? Listen to the doctor’s recommendations?”
“I promise to listen.” She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes, like they were children and teasing each other. Only in this case, it was far from a tease. Judging by recent events, it was life or death.
Although it took another hour before they were escorted downstairs to a waiting patrol car, Yasmine was surprised to find herself relieved to be heading back inside the precinct.
After they checked in with Nia at reception, Noel headed down the hall to hold open the door to a small side room with couches, a water cooler and a kettle with teabags and paper cups beside it. “You going to be okay in here? If you feel off at all, you tell me. You remember what the doctor said—it’s remarkable that you’re alive and escaped the crash with only a few broken ribs and some bruises. Don’t try to play the hero. If you think you’re going downhill, I’ll get you back to the hospital in minutes.”
“I’ll be fine.” Yasmine eased herself down onto a brown-and-orange couch that looked like a castoff from the seventies. The doctor had told her to be gentle on her body, not to move too quickly or do a lot of bending or crouching, anything that might exacerbate the fractures or shift the positions of broken bones. “I’m still not sure how you pulled that off.”
“Thank Officer Wayne and Captain Simcoe for that. They need to question you about yesterday’s events, anyway.”
“Didn’t we already do that?” Yasmine shifted a few of the throw pillows so she could lie back and rest her head. “I don’t know what else to tell them. I have no idea why people are shooting at me. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t see anything at the crash. You saw more than I did. I don’t think I asked before, but I take it that we don’t know about the other driver?”
Noel shook his head. “I was disoriented for a few seconds from the airbag slamming into my face, and the other car was gone when my vision cleared. A large black SUV plowed right into us. It was deliberate. I already talked to the traffic guys about it. No one barrels through an intersection, makes that kind of hit and disappears without having done it intentionally. The cops put out a BOLO for the vehicle, but nothing has turned up yet. And it probably won’t.”
Yasmine didn’t like the uncertainty in his tone. “Why do you say that?”
He sat across from her and gripped the sides of the chair. “Because yesterday a man killed himself in front of us. He took what was probably a cyanide capsule in a back molar to end his life rather than speak to us. If the crash is connected—and I’m going to say it is—you think whoever’s behind it is going to be dumb enough to leave a smashed-up SUV lying around? No way. It’ll be fixed by someone behind the scenes or found scrubbed in a parking garage somewhere.”
“We don’t have parking garages in this town.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yasmine swallowed down the sudden rush of fear that threatened to sweep her away. She’d been fine managing this so far. She’d felt able to handle it. Noel had mentioned she’d cried about the bakery earlier this morning, but she had zero recollection of that and blamed anything she’d said or done on the pain medication.
“Yasmine?” Noel spoke softly and leaned toward her. With one hand, he closed the door to the room and used his foot to make sure it shut. “We need to talk. For real. About Daniel. And about you.”
She didn’t want to. She’d put the conversation off time and time again yesterday, and each time she’d felt herself ready to open up, there’d been another attack. He needed to know, though, because if Daniel really was murdered, he might be able to claim jurisdiction or at least get someone up here who could. But it was going to hurt, each and every word.
“Fine,” she said. “But can you make me some tea first? This might take a while.”
* * *
Noel listened closely as Yasmine recounted her conversation with her brother only a few days before his passing. From the sound of things, Daniel had stumbled across information at work that he wasn’t supposed to see, but her entire premise was nothing but conjecture. When she explained that Daniel had been found dead shortly after she’d recommended that he talk to his boss about the papers he’d seen, Yasmine paused and looked at Noel expectantly over her paper cup.
“It’s a great theory,” he said, hoping that she wouldn’t hate him for what he planned to say next. “But I’m afraid that’s all it is. The reports, the files and the investigation afterward all point to a workplace accident. Not murder. Officer Wayne showed me everything they have on it. I know you’re looking for someone to blame—”
Her dark brown eyes widened in disbelief, and he knew immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. “Looking for someone to blame? You think I want to believe my brother was murdered? You think it would make me happy to discover that there’s someone out there evil enough to take the life of an innocent man? Right here in my town?”
He didn’t think that at all. “So, why are you stuck on this? Do you believe the accident reports were fabricated?”
Yasmine took a sip of tea and lowered the cup, resting it between her hands in her lap. “Noel, I’m not sure you’ve heard everything. The way you spoke earlier, I thought you knew where Daniel worked and for whom. That you’d read the reports yourself.”
She was implying he’d missed something, and that made him feel foolish. “I’ve read the police report, but like you said, the company manufactures and tests parts for military equipment for the Department of Defense. You think there was something wrong with the numbers for the equipment? You said yourself that you don’t even know what Daniel meant by that.”
“Think about it. All military equipment is subject to stringent testing measures to ensure it operates the way it’s supposed to, so that it won’t fail in a critical moment during deployment. What if…what if his boss fudged the inspection numbers?”
It was such a ludicrous suggestion that Noel almost laughed, but he respected Yasmine too much and they’d known each other too long for him to react that way. “I’d say that’s incredibly unlikely. Aren’t military equipment testing standards handed down by the Department of Defense itself? Surely it’d take notice if equipment started to fail all over the place.”
“Yes, but not every piece of equipment will fail. That’s the whole point. It happens so rarely that surely it’s conceivable testing numbers could be faked for quite some time before anybody caught on. If they ever did.”
“You’d have to fool a whole lot of people.” Noel considered the logistics of such a scheme. “You’d have to convince some employees to be in on it, too, but you’d be able to move more parts through the line, make more cash. Does Daniel’s boss live a lavish lifestyle? Live beyond what his means should be for someone in his line of work? Take many trips?”
Color flushed Yasmine’s cheeks, and she raised the cup to her lips as though trying to hide behind it. “I don’t know.”
That was disappointing. If only she had some clue, some inkling of evidence how this was possible, because right now, the accusation came off like a crazy theory from a person whose imagination worked overtime. And if they eliminated the number-fudging angle, it left one other theory.
Noel braced himself for her anger. “Mina, can you tell me what you were actually doing in Amar?”
She coughed, spitting the tea from her mouth back into the cup. “Excuse me?” Her brown eyes flashed at him. “I lived with my family. Went to the American University of Amar. I graduated cum laude with a degree in psychology and an offer to start work at a local practice in Kerat, the capital city.”
“That’s it?” She was holding something back, he could tell. As recruits, they’d done enough testing on interrogation and reading body language in Quantico that the information was at the forefront of his mind. “I know you’re omitting important information, Yasmine. There are people after you, trying to kill you, and we need to know why. I’m just exploring all the angles here.”
She looked away, resting her lips on the rim of the cup. “I joined the military.”
It was his turn to stare. “You what?”
She raised her chin and looked at him with defiance. “I joined the military, Noel. Learned how to fight, how to shoot, how to defend others.”
“But…why?”
“I joined with a friend.” She placed her empty cup on the side of the couch. “I had a choice. If I was going to stay in Amar to live and work, to take the position offered at the practice after graduation, I required dual citizenship. Since my mother’s family is Amaran and I lived there for years while I was a dependent, the only additional requirement was a year of military service. It’s no different than the rule in many countries in the world. Plus, the military there has strong support from the United States. There is a lot of similar training and shared ethics, so I felt comfortable being a part of it.”
And yet her behavior still seemed evasive and closed off when she spoke about her time there. She’d pulled her arms into her sides and hadn’t looked at him once during the entire explanation.
“Were you deployed? On active duty?” Maybe she’d made an enemy while in the field.
Yasmine shook her head. “No, never.”
“And you’re sure there’s nothing else?”
Silence stretched from one side of the room to the other as she avoided looking him in the eye. What could she possibly be holding back from him? And why would she do it if it could help them figure out why someone was bent on ending her life?
A knock on the door startled them both. It opened without the person on the other side waiting for an invitation. Nia, the receptionist, poked her head in the room. “Sorry to interrupt, but Special Agent Black? Captain Simcoe has news for you regarding yesterday’s incident.”
“Thanks, Nia.” He rose, enjoying the stretch in his aching legs. All those hours in the hospital chair hadn’t done much to help his own bruises heal. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
Yasmine pushed herself upright, and Noel didn’t miss the grimace on her face. The pain medication could do only so much. She’d have to be on top of taking it regularly or she’d be in a world of agony. “I’m coming,” she said.
“No, you’re not.”
She stood before he could make her lie back down, and as much as he wanted to yell at her to make better choices, she was a grown woman and knew her body’s limits. At least, he hoped she did. Now that he knew she’d spent a year in the military, however, things about her were becoming a whole lot clearer—like how she’d managed to escape an entire team of black-clad shooters in her apartment, and why she hadn’t flinched when he’d drawn his gun in front of her.
“Suit yourself.” He held the door open and she exited first. As she passed, he caught another whiff of cinnamon and honey. He’d have to ask his mother to bring something home from the bakery so he could try it. If Yasmine’s baked goods tasted as delicious as she smelled, her business would be a hit in no time.
They entered Captain Simcoe’s office and sat, Yasmine keeping her back straight so she wouldn’t compress her ribs. The captain glanced at Yasmine with concern, then at Noel. “Listen, Black. I’m keeping you in the loop because your uncle down in Pennsylvania was one of the best officers I ever served with, back in my early days. And I know you spent a few years on the force before moving on, so you know how to get along with the fine men and women here at the station. I don’t want to see you flounder on your new path, but you have to promise not to interfere. This isn’t the FBI’s case, but you may be able to get a line on something once you hear what I have to say. Can you keep a lid on it?”
Noel clamped down on his immediate reaction to agree with the captain, recognizing this as the kind of gray area where consulting with his FBI mentor would be the prudent move. Stepping on toes or cutting corners was not the way he wanted to start his career. “As long as there’s nothing illegal about me hearing this information or keeping details from my people, I’m on board, but I will have to speak with my mentor about it, however vaguely. As soon as I hear anything—”
“You’ll pass it up. I know. You’re new. Trust me, this is how it works. So, let me break it down for you. Toxicology came back on the shooter with what killed him.” The captain slapped a manila folder down on the desk and slid it toward Noel. “Cyanide tooth. Back molar. The kind of stuff you see in spy movies, only it’s real. No joke.”
Noel pressed the tips of his fingers against the folder. “So it’s officially a suicide. No one got hurt and you could charge him with attempted murder for the shooting, but since he’s dead, there’s no one to prosecute. Did you find out who he is?”
The captain inhaled slowly and exhaled as he folded his hands together and placed them on the desk. “This is where the situation gets interesting. Open it.”
Noel glanced at Yasmine, who shrugged. He flipped open the folder. The top sheet was a profile of the shooter, whom he recognized from the black-and-white photo. “This is definitely the guy.”
“Look closer,” said Captain Simcoe. “Take in the dates. The occupation.”
Noel noticed Yasmine straining to read the sheet from where she sat and adjusted his chair closer to her so she wouldn’t have to move and shift her ribcage. He ran his finger down the page and froze on one line. “He was an elite sniper for the US Army.” He didn’t read the rest of the line out loud. He couldn’t.
The sniper who’d taken a shot at Yasmine yesterday, who had swallowed a cyanide pill to escape capture, did not exist.
According to the file in Noel’s hands, the man had been killed in action three years ago.