LET ME GO (Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Book 5) Page 16

  The firing stopped as abruptly as it had begun, and a sudden silence fell upon us, an eerie stillness that made everything inside of me scream. It lasted for less than a second. Disoriented, I opened my eyes as the yelling began, and I finally looked up.

  Liam!

  He was on the asphalt a few feet away, on his knees still, his arms behind his neck, looking back at me. Seeing this made my heart jump. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs hurt, my head throbbed, and adrenaline rushed through my veins as I realized what had actually happened.

  Around us on the asphalt lay five police officers…each one with a bullet wound. The one lying closest to me had taken a bullet to the forehead; another had taken one to the chest. None of them were moving.

  Oh, dear God!

  The realization forced me to cry out in pain. Meanwhile, chaos erupted around me. Boots, feet, voices yelling, arms grabbing me, pushing, shoving, holding me down, pressing my cheek into the asphalt, and then someone cuffing my hands.

  In the distance somewhere, I could see Liam receiving the same treatment, and somehow, I managed to gain eye contact with him while they were lifting me in the air, pulling me up. We held each other’s gaze until they began dragging me toward the police cruiser. As they opened the door, I heard Liam yell behind me and the officers yell something back.

  I was so scared. Scared because I didn’t understand what was going on, frightened for Liam because I knew they were now so scared they might harm him, thinking he was somehow responsible for what happened to their colleagues.

  Do everything they say, Liam. Don’t resist the arrest. Let them take you in. Otherwise, you’ll give them a reason to harm you.

  I ducked my head and landed in the back seat right before the door was slammed shut. Hands cuffed in the back, I moved myself to the window and looked out of it. It was the scene of a real nightmare. Five officers were down, lying utterly lifeless on the ground. The remaining officers were searching the area for the shooter, guns drawn, panic and fear painted on their faces.

  I heard yelling, then turned my face and saw Liam receive a hard punch to his jaw, then a kick from another officer. Then they dragged him across the asphalt toward another cruiser, yelling curse words at him.

  As my cruiser took off, I closed my eyes, slumped my head, and cried while watching the ambulances as they arrived, sirens blaring, thinking about Matt and what he had said a few weeks ago:

  There are no winners in this.

  Chapter 70

  They believed we were behind the attack. Of course, they did. Why wouldn’t they? To them, it looked like we had lured them into a trap. They interrogated me about it all night long and most of the next day, asking me over and over again who the shooter was and where he was now.

  “We will find him, so you better tell us now,” the detective interrogating me said.

  “I told you; I don’t know anything about it,” I answered over and over again, tired and feeling sick to my stomach. “We were going to Disney World because we thought a young girl was about to be killed. We wanted to warn her.”

  “So you keep saying. But you might like to know that your little friend is saying something else,” the second detective said. I couldn’t remember their names at this point, and I didn’t care either. I just wanted to go home to my family. I just wanted to know that Liam was all right.

  “Liam? I hardly think so,” I said. “Listen, guys, I know how this works, okay? You tell me he said something different and then you hope that I’ll break down and tell the truth. Don’t think I haven’t been there, on the other side, that is. You seem to forget I used to be FBI.”

  They looked at me. They, too, were getting tired.

  “Here’s what we believe happened,” the first one, who had had very blue eyes and a receding hairline that he obviously wasn’t ready to admit, said. “At exactly seven twenty, we received a call that there was a car on its way to Disney World and inside were a man and a woman who were carrying a bomb that they were planning to blow up inside of Disney World, blowing up little children and their parents while they were at the Happiest Place on Earth. Naturally, we take action and try to stop you before you get that far, taking all the precautions we have to. Only too late do the responding officers realize that it is a trap, that there’s a sniper among the trees waiting for them. Five of our colleagues are shot. Four dead. One is still in ICU and most likely will not make it.”

  I swallowed. “I…I am so sorry. As a colleague myself, I…”

  Detective Blue Eyes rose abruptly to his feet. “No. Don’t give me that. You’re not one of us. Not anymore.”

  He was staring at me, his nostrils flaring, eyes angry. The look in them terrified me deeply.

  “We’re asking if maybe you and Liam Berkeley planned this to get back at the police for what happened to his son,” the other detective said in a calmer voice. “Maybe you and he are romantically involved, and that’s how he persuaded you to be a part of it, betraying your own former colleagues?”

  I leaned back in the chair. The chains tied to my hands jangled loudly.

  “Wow,” I said. “That is some theory there, Detectives. But you couldn’t be further from the truth. Liam’s son was murdered…”

  “By the police. That is what you believe; isn’t it?” Detective Blue Eyes asked, pacing back and forth.

  “No…I mean, yes…but…”

  I stopped myself, realizing I wasn’t helping my case.

  “You a part of that new movement?” Blue Eyes asked.

  “What movement?”

  Blue Eyes pulled out his phone and tapped on it, then turned it so I could look at the screen. I saw a picture of Amal Bukhari.

  “She started it from her hospital bed. They’re doing a protest march in D.C. tomorrow to protest against what they believe is growing police violence. They believe that around five million people are coming, making it one of the biggest marches in history, if not the biggest. Are you part of it?”

  “I mean, I heard there was going to be a march. I wasn’t planning on going if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Blue Eyes slammed his fist on the table. It made me jump, and my heart began to race.

  “I was asking if you were part of it, part of the movement, or whatever you call it. What you did last night, the ambush on our colleagues, was that part of it too?”

  I stared at him; a gazillion thoughts flickered through my mind at once, falling into places they didn’t fit into earlier.

  “That’s it,” I said.

  “What is?” he said, sounding dumbfounded.

  “The motive, the purpose, the pattern. Everything I didn’t understand. I get it now. I totally get it.”

  Chapter 71

  It was pleasant being pushed in a wheelchair through the airport and not having to walk on her own, Amal thought. Being this tired, she could barely keep her eyes open. Samir, who was pushing her, had hired a security company to protect her. He had insisted on doing this even though she told him it wasn’t necessary, and if she didn’t agree, he wasn’t going to take her at all. He knew she needed him, so she had finally accepted. As soon as they were through the airport, flocks of fans greeted her. They were holding signs and yelling her gaming name, IWondergirl.

  Amal felt exhausted from the flight to D.C. While in the air, she had to fight her intense fear of something bad happening again and thought she kept seeing those fighter jets outside the windows. Nothing made her happier than to finally have arrived on solid ground.

  Samir was by her side, and even though the doctors had told her that she was risking her life by going, that they wouldn’t recommend she leave the hospital this soon, she was now happy that she did. Seeing all these people who had come there for her, for the cause, made her eyes well up with tears. She was truly making a difference by showing up, even if she risked her health and her life by doing so.

  “Look at them, Samir,” she said as he grabbed their suitcases. “They’re everywhere. Even outside, look.”
<
br />   She pointed at the windows where so many people had gathered you couldn’t see through them. So many faces stared in, and so many hands were touching the glass. They were waving at her and screaming her name, while some were shouting angry protest slogans against the police.

  “They came, Samir,” she said. “They really came.”

  “Did you doubt they would?” he asked and began pushing her forward toward the exit while the security guards made way for them through the dense crowds. Hands reached out for her, and she tried to high five as many as possible.

  “We love you, Amal!” one of them yelled.

  “I guess not,” she said, addressed to her brother, while touching more hands, high fiving as many as she could, hoping that no one would leave there disappointed. “But I have to admit; I had to see it to believe it.”

  More than fifteen million people had joined the Facebook event group, and, of course, she knew that a lot of them wouldn’t show up once it came down to it. Most people didn’t leave jobs or school to go protest marching. But the experts estimated that about five to seven million of them would. Amal was overwhelmed by that number, but silently believed it might get even bigger. Up until now, it had all been nothing but a dream, an idea shaped in her mind as she was in the hospital. But now, as she was seeing all the people for the first time, she had to admit she was quite astounded by the numbers and by how deep an effect she could have from her sickbed.

  It wasn’t only the fans and supporters that had shown up; it was also the media. Cameras were flashing in her face while microphones were reached out toward her and questions yelled at her:

  “Are you happy to be out of the hospital bed, Amal?”

  “How do you like Washington, D.C.?”

  “Will you be well enough to go on stage tomorrow?”

  Amal didn’t have the strength to answer, so instead, she just waved, and Samir responded for her. Yes, she was happy to be out of the bed finally. Yes, she loved Washington, D.C., and especially all the people who had shown up to greet her, and yes, she was going to be on the stage tomorrow, speaking to her fans and supporters.

  “Amal will do this despite her limitations and her hardship. Because that’s how strongly she believes in this cause. It’s time to end police violence in this country,” he added, then said thank you and pushed her toward the van that they had ordered to pick them up.

  Amal was rolled into the back while her fans screamed loudly behind her, some trying to force their way through the security guards to touch her. One managed to push his way through, and suddenly, he was up the ramp. His eyes were wild, and he opened his shirt while he ran, so she could see his tattoo that spelled her name on his chest.

  Amal gasped as he grabbed her by the arm, pushing Samir to the side. Amal looked up, frightened, while two security guards grabbed him from behind and pulled him away.

  “Amal, I love you!” he yelled as he was being dragged away and the door closed behind her. Amal stared at the man with the mad eyes while he was being pulled away, her heart knocking against her ribcage.

  “It’s okay now,” said the one guard that was with them inside of the car.

  Samir gave him an angry look, panting in agitation.

  “It’s okay now? What if that guy had a gun? What if he had come here to kill my sister? There are just as many who hate her as there are who love her. And some of them want to see her dead. We know this from all the hateful comments she has gotten over the past days with real threats to her life. It’s your job to protect her, and you just failed at that. You better up your game by this time tomorrow when she’ll be on display in front of millions of people.”

  Chapter 72

  I used my one call to call the only person I knew who could help me out of this mess…Isabella Horne, current FBI director, and my former boss and friend. She had helped me out in Miami when I was in deep trouble down there once, and I knew she wouldn’t let me rot in jail.

  A few hours later, I was released. Isabella was waiting on the other side of the door as I was let out. She was wearing that look on her face that told me she was not just angry; she was disappointed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, approaching her.

  “Save it,” she said. “I can’t believe I had to come all the way down here. Lucky for you, I was already in Orlando with a couple of my boys because of the shooting last night. But I must say it doesn’t look good for you. How the heck did you end up in this situation?”

  I sighed and tried to turn on my phone that had just been handed back to me along with my jewelry and other personal objects that had been with me at the time of my arrest. Luckily, I hadn’t been armed. I had considered bringing my gun but knew it would probably only get me in trouble…bringing a gun to Disney World.

  “It’s a long story, and I really need a shower. Listen, do you know if Liam will be released too?”

  She shook her head. “He won’t. Not now, at least. I was able to convince them that you wouldn’t run away, that you had the children to think about and aren’t a threat. I think I might have convinced them that you didn’t know what was happening, so now they only think Liam was behind it and that you were merely an innocent bystander. You still have some credit from Miami and catching that killer on Amelia Island, at least with those sitting in higher places like me. But don’t consider yourself safe yet. Every freakin’ agent around here is working on this case, and if they find even the smallest indication that you knew what was going to happen, they’ll lock you up. Do you hear me? And don’t come crying to me again. I’m tired of having to bail you out.”

  “But Liam stays in?” I asked.

  She nodded. “So far, no bail has been set. I don’t know if there will be. If he is considered a domestic terrorist, then who knows what will happen? I’ll keep an eye on it, though.”

  “So, you believe us?” I asked.

  She gave me a stern look. “You have never given me a reason not to. At least, not so far. But stay out of trouble, do you hear me? Stay away from anyone who might be the least bit anti-police or pro the Blue Lives Murder movement.”

  I paused in my tracks. Isabella noticed and stopped too. She shook her head. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going up there, do you hear me? You’ll get arrested, and then no one will believe me. I should have left you in that jail, at least till the march was over. Eva Rae, promise me you won’t go to D.C. and be in that demonstration. Promise me?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

  She pointed her finger at me like an angry teacher. “No, Eva Rae. You’re not.”

  “But don’t you see? I have to stop it from happening. Please, listen to me, Isabella. You can help me with this. I told you about the swatting. I know you believed me or at least part of you did, right?”

  She sighed heavily. “I think you might be onto something. I’ve been wondering about the number of fake calls and how a lot of them have turned deadly. But you don’t have enough for me to open an investigation, Eva Rae. We’ve been through that.”

  “I know, Isabella. But this is important. You have to listen to me. It’s a war he wants. It’s been a part of the plan all along. The victims he chooses, the shooting last night. It was all part of it.”

  Isabella stared at me, then shook her head, walking backward. “You know what? I can’t take any more of this from you. I have work to do, loads of it, and I only came because we were once good friends. I have to get going. I can’t deal with this right now. This is the last time I bail you out, do you hear me? Go home and be with your kids. If you go up there, I can’t help you anymore. You’ll risk losing everything, including your children. I can’t do any more for you. You’re on your own.”

  Chapter 73

  Isabella was right about one thing. I was truly on my own. Liam was still in police custody, and Matt said he didn’t want to talk to me when I called him on the way back, then hung up. The only one I could still rely on was my dad, who had helped me all along. But even he couldn�
�t help me out with this.

  I went home, took a long shower, then returned to my computer and did a couple of searches, finding some info I needed. As I dug deeper into it, more pieces were beginning to fall into place, creating a picture that frankly had me terrified.

  My mom was in the house when I came back and wanted to know why I had spent the night in jail and why there were reporters all over town asking questions about Liam Berkeley.

  A couple of them had even called me while I drove home, asking stupid questions about him, but I had hung up or let voice mail do the answering for me. His face was everywhere, on all the TV channels and my Facebook newsfeed. A lot of people were applauding him for his actions, being a part of the Blue Lives Murder movement, while others were writing that he had gone too far. Journalists were writing nasty stories about how he had grown angry at the police for what happened to Tim, his son, and then planned an ambush, killing four officers as revenge. None of them seemed to think he was innocent or even cared about the real truth to this story.

  At one point during the day, a reporter even came to my door and knocked, but my mom shooed him away, literally. I could hear her shoo at him from my room and couldn’t help laughing. No hungry reporter was any match for my mom. It made me happy to know this because if things went wrong for me in D.C., she’d have to be the one to take care of the kids.

  I needed her to be a bulldog.

  My kids came home while I was packing for my trip. Alex came running up the stairs, yelling, storming into my bedroom.

  “Mom!”

  I sighed and grabbed him in my arms, then sat with him on the bed, holding him tightly. I enjoyed the fact that he was still so small that I could actually carry him and hold him in my lap. Both my girls were too big for any of that now. I wasn’t looking forward to losing that closeness with my little man as well.