Chapter 53: Past and Present
John blew out his breath in a gusty sigh as the SUV disappeared, and let his shoulders slump as adrenaline left him. "Joss…are you all right?" She was standing in the middle of the street breathing deeply as she tried to catch her breath after the speed and suddenness of the last few adrenaline-laced minutes.
"Yeah, I'm good." Joss held out his gun to him, and he took it from her hand. "How about you?"
Looking into her soft brown eyes brought guilt crashing in on him. "I'm sorry," John whispered woodenly.
"For what?" She sounded genuinely puzzled.
"I…led them here. I brought them home. They must have followed me." There was a heavy weight in his chest. He'd been so close…the last few months had been intoxicating, he'd been happier than he'd ever been in his adult life. The calm, the peace, he'd found here living with Joss, coming home to her every day, had lulled him into a false sense of security. He'd tricked himself into believing, finally, that maybe he could have a normal life, with someone who loved and trusted him, and who he loved in return. He'd thought that finally he could have something approaching a stable life.
But he'd only been fooling himself, hadn't he? This was proof. He was a danger to the ones he loved; his enemies had followed him here, followed him home, threatened the only woman he'd ever fallen in love with—not to mention her guests, Lia's parents, who surely had to be wondering what the hell was going on. And Taylor—John's stomach clenched. Taylor had stayed home while Joss took Lia to the airport to meet her parents, had opened the door just as that first bullet had whizzed past John's ear. John had heard it hit the wall beside the front door, had distantly registered that Taylor was okay even as Joss had told him to get everyone in the house, but it had still been a near miss that made his stomach churn with tension. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again.
Joss smacked him none-too-gently on the arm. "Stop that," she snapped tartly. "We don't know if they were aiming for you, John. For all we know, they might have been hired by Sandhu and were aiming for Lia. We don't know who that was, so let's find that out before you start wallowing in self-pity and blaming yourself." And without another word she turned and marched toward the house, her cellphone already in her hand as she called for backup.
He started to walk toward her, hesitated. Then he turned and headed for the GTO. He couldn't be here when the police got here—and he was also going to hunt down the bastards who'd just threatened his family. "Harold," he snapped into his earpiece.
"What is it, Mr. Reese?" Harold sounded tired.
"Someone just shot at us on Joss's front porch. I need to know if they're the same Brotherhood assassins I was chasing down tonight."
Joss stood in the middle of the sidewalk, fuming as she watched the GTO's taillights disappear around the corner. Son of a…he's just going to leave me here to explain this to the Riantes? She wanted to be angry with him, but in the back of her mind she remembered the look she'd seen on his face. Defeat. Helplessness. Guilt.
This just fed all of his paranoia. He's always been worried that someday one of his enemies would follow him home—this just solidified all of his worst fears. I'll give him a chance to calm down. And as she resumed walking toward her house, another thought occurred to her. Thank goodness I haven't told him about the baby yet. He'd be a wreck right now. Damn thick-headed male, can't see I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and a kid—I did it for years before he came along! And I was in the Army too, and I outrank him! She shook her head, smiling a little to herself. I'll just give him a little time to calm down and then call him.
And in the meantime, she'd called Lionel, and he would be here soon with a crime scene team shed asked for, to get that bullet out of the soft wood frame of her front door and to take samples of the shattered glass and plastic and pieces of the SUV from the pavement. And she had to call Harold, see if any street cameras had caught the license plate on the vehicle—unless John had done that already. But while she was waiting for the police, she had to talk to the Riantes.
She walked in the front door, but didn't lock it—Lionel would be here soon. "Is everybody okay?" She scanned all of them quickly. Taylor and Lia, both looking pale but composed; Mr. and Mrs. Riante, looking worried but not scared or terrified—well, with Mr. Riante working diplomatic security, he wouldn't be easily ruffled; and hadn't Shalini said that she'd treated bombing victims? She wasn't a stranger to danger either.
"We're all okay," Mr. Riante assured her, standing quickly. "Are you all right? It can't be every day that you get shot at in front of your own home. I'm so sorry, Ms. Carter."
"For what?" Damn men, why did they have to apologize for things that weren't their fault? It drove her nuts when John did that.
"I caught a glimpse of the driver when the shooter leaned out the front passenger window to fire his gun. He was definitely Middle Eastern or Indian. I can't imagine you would have made many enemies in your line work who would be from that region of the world—and I believe I may have seen that man going through the airport back in India. The Mujahideen must have followed us here looking for my daughter." His eyes were dark, haunted. "They must still be looking for Lia, even after all these years."
"Let's not jump to conclusions," Joss said quickly. "I'm a cop; I make a lot of enemies, many I don't even know. I can't entirely discount that possibility. John works as head of security for a major financial mogul; it's entirely possible that someone might have a grudge against his boss and could be out to eliminate him through John. And don't forget Saakar Sandhu—although I don't see it being very likely, there is a possibility he may have hired someone to try and intimidate Lia into not testifying against him in court."
"Would he… really?" Carlo Riante looked aghast.
"I don't know, Mr. Riante. I'm simply putting that on the table as a possibility. In our line of work, protecting others, when you have a threat you have to consider all possibilities. Lia's guardian ad litem, Alexandra Cabot, has filed a lawsuit against Sandhu in civil court and also took a trip to Colorado last week to talk to Sandhu's base commander and the JAG officer on base about the incident." A smile curled her lips. "According to Alex's email, Sandhu's base commander was rather less than pleased at finding out that Sandhu had taken advantage of Colorado's marriage-by-proxy laws for servicemembers to marry an underage girl, let alone without her consent, and added assault and battery on top of it. No matter what happens in the civil trial we're pushing for, he's in a lot of trouble with the military. Alex said he's most likely going to face a summary court-martial over the incident and that will certainly result in being sent to Leavenworth for a couple of years, then when he gets out he'll have to serve the civil sentence concurrently." The smile disappeared. "So it might occur to him to intimidate her into not testifying against him in the civil trial. Although I don't think it's likely, it is a possibility." She sighed. "Did you get a good look at the man in the India airport? Would you be able to describe him to a sketch artist?"
"I believe so. Shalini saw him first—she pointed him out to me, said he seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before. We should be able to talk to one of your sketch artists."
"That would be great if you could. We can take that and do a facial recognition scan of people who came into the US in the past couple of days from India. If it matches someone, we'll know who to look for—and we'll be able to figure out if this is a domestic or international threat."
The doorbell rang, and she opened it. "Hey, Lionel."
"Hey yourself. Everyone okay?"
"Yes, we're all fine." She looked past him, saw the crime scene unit techs right behind him. "Hey guys, there's a bullet in the wall right next to the door here, make sure you get that. And then halfway down the block I shot out the taillights of the SUV the shooters were in, so make sure you get those fragments."
"Yes, Ma'am," the tech said, and she nodded as she stepped back and let Lionel and two other officers step in. "Lionel, Officer Murphy, this is Carlo and Shalini Riante, and their daughter Emilia Riante and my son Taylor. Taylor was at home this evening, Carlo, Shalini, Lia and I were coming back from a dinner when we were shot at on the front step in a drive-by. Officer Murphy, can you take their statements?" Murphy nodded and headed for the living room toward Lia and her parents.
Joss led Lionel into the kitchen, where they wouldn't be overheard. As soon as he saw the Riantes were busy with Murphy, Lionel focused on her. "Did you get the license plate?"
"No, I was too busy firing back," she said ascerbically. "Though maybe someone else did." She hit Harold's speed dial number on her phone. "Hey Harold?"
"Unfortunately, Joss, two of the streetlights in the immediate vicinity of your house were non-operational this evening, so cameras were unable to get a good shot of the license plate. However, there may not have been a license plate to catch—I'm looking at footage from the surveillance camera installed at the outdoor ATM around the corner from your house, and although there is a small light in the license plate frame on that SUV, it doesn't appear to be working, nor does there appear to be any color differentiation that would indicate the presence of a plate. I'm checking every camera among the likeliest routes away from your neighborhood for any other shots, but as of right now I'm afraid it doesn't look like there's a clear shot of the license plate."
"Thanks…um…do you know where John is right now?"
"He's on his way in to the Library. He feels terribly guilty about having led the miscreants home to you."
Joss rolled her eyes, even though she knew Harold couldn't see it. "I hate it when he goes on one of his self-pitying kicks. Harold, can you tell him that Mr. Riante saw the guy who was driving that vehicle, and he and Mrs. Riante both think they saw the same man at the airport in India? John's too paranoid about his enemies following him home to be that careless. He's beating himself up over nothing."
"It's not 'nothing' to John when it concerns your safety or Taylor's, Joss."
She sighed. "I know that. Just…tell him there's a chance that the shooter wasn't aiming for me, or Taylor, or even John—they may have followed Lia's parents here from India. As a diplomat's bodyguard, Carlo Riante probably comes in for his fair share of security scares and death threats."
"I'll let him know."
"The Riantes are going to sit down with a sketch artist and describe the man they saw. Once we have the sketch, I'll get a copy to you so you can do your own facial recognition analysis, okay?"
"I'll be on the lookout for it."
"Thanks, Harold," and she sighed as she disconnected the call.
Lionel snorted. "As paranoid as John is, I'm surprised he isn't here obsessing over yours and the baby's safety." Then he peered closely at her, eyes narrowing at her sudden blush. "What the hell—Joss, you mean you haven't told him yet?"
"It just…never seemed like the right time," she mumbled, staring at her cellphone in her hand.
"It's never going to be the right time, Joss! You're going to start showing pretty soon and he is going to figure it out. And he's gonna be pissed as hell that you didn't tell him sooner."
"I know that, Lionel! It's just…with the issues Lia and her parents are having with her safety, and having had to send her across the world to keep her alive, John told me he'd thought it over and he's glad he never had kids, because he doesn't want them now."
"Yeah, well, it's a little late for that," Lionel snapped. "That mighta been a good time for you to tell him he's about to be a father whether he wants to be one or not."
"I just…I couldn't, Lionel. I love him. I can't imagine doing this without him. But if he decides that he really can't do this, that his fears and phobias simply won't allow him to be part of a family, then…I don't want to make him feel like he's obligated to. I don't want me or the baby to be the chain that ties him down. I want him to stay because he wants to, not because he feels he has to or is obligated to because the baby is his."
"Listen, Joss. I know John can be a little uptight sometimes. Hell, he's a hardass. On himself as well as everyone around him. And yeah, I can imagine, with all of his insecurities, he's probably gonna be shocked as hell. He probably will run the other way. But if this is what you want, you'll have to make him see that. I saw the way you looked at John back when we both realized we were working for Glasses without the other knowing. You didn't fight for him them. It took him almost losing you to that madman Walker to admit he loved you—but it wasn't until he got kidnapped by Walker that you showed him how much you cared about him when you sacrificed yourself to save him. Yeah, he'll probably run—and it's going to be up to you to show him you care about him, and your relationship, by bringing him back. And you two had better get to that stage pretty soon before the doc puts you on bed rest and you can't go running after his ass. Otherwise, we'll have to find someone to go chase him down and bring him in."
She knew the truth of what Lionel was saying. "All right. I'll tell him, okay Lionel? Come on, we have to get back to the case." She left the kitchen and headed for the Riantes in the living room, but even as she walked she could feel Lionel's eyes drilling into her back.
John let himself in the front door quietly; if Joss and Taylor were asleep he didn't want to wake them. It was almost three in the morning, and he knew Joss was going to check up on Lia and the Riantes in the morning before she went to work, so that meant she had to be up early. And she would still have to put in a full day too.
He was exhausted. Still wired and nervous when he got back to the house, his adrenaline levels had ratcheted back up when the bullet had flown past his ear. After he'd left he'd driven the streets for a while, trying to spot a black SUV with a shattered back window hidden down an alley somewhere; at least, that was what he'd told Harold. He had been looking for the SUV, but he'd also been doing some thinking. And he'd come to a few conclusions.
Harold had relayed to him that the Riantes had spotted someone who looked like the driver of that vehicle at the airport in India, but that made no sense to John. Why would someone have followed them from India to the US and then tried to assassinate them? Because of Lia, because Lia might still be able to identify the terrorists? It was wildly unlikely. The likeliest source of the danger was himself—it had to be. He couldn't see any other explanation. The Brotherhood wanted him, and they'd been willing to endanger innocents in order to get what they wanted.
So he was going to pack his things, go back to the Baxter Street apartment. Until he'd taken out the entire organization of Brotherhood thugs and could be sure Joss and Taylor were safe. It was the only way.
"Hey. Weren't sure you were coming home tonight," came a soft voice, and at the same time the lamp in the living room switched on, and he saw Joss sitting on the couch with her old green Army blanket draped over her. She looked tired but alert, and he felt a rush of guilt as he realized she'd probably been waiting for him.
That guilt roughened his voice even as it sharpened his resolve. "I'm not staying. Just came long enough to pack my things and head to the apartment. I…I can't do this, Joss. I've been trying to fool myself into thinking that I could have a normal life, that I could have a life with the people I love, but I've just been fooling myself." And then, bitterly, "Kara was right. People like us don't get to have 'normal' lives."
"Now wait just a damn minute, John. Where the hell do you get off thinking this is all about you? Didn't Harold pass along my message?"
"That the Riantes saw someone at the airport in India they thought might be the driver of the car this evening? I got it, but I don't believe it. Why would someone from India follow them all the way here to assassinate them?"
"When we find him we'll ask him that. Because whether you believe it or not, Mr. Riante was right. The department sketch artist did a sketch of the guy they'd seen in the India airport and the drawing was compared to all the passengers who got on that flight to New York. There was a match. A guy named Mufti Bashir—although that wasn't the name on his tourist visa, that's what his name came up as when his photo was matched with Interpol and Homeland Security's terrorist watch list. And Mufti Bashir was responsible for the murder of Lia's uncle, Mahesh Rao, during the 2006 Mumbai train bombing."
