Chapter 3

David was walking toward his own vehicle to return to the office when he recognized Colby and Don driving slowly past the police barricade. Surprised, he changed trajectory slightly and jogged to meet them, arriving just as Don slid out of the passenger seat.

David had heard from the EMTs on site about Charlie's serious injury. Concerned, he asked about him right away. "Don, hey, I thought you would still be at the hospital. How's Charlie?"

Don appeared to look at his chin for a moment, and then toward the former bank. "My father is with him," he answered brusquely. "Tell me what you've got."

David tried to sneak a look at Colby, but Granger's attention was also on the scene. He cleared his throat. "Um…we actually have evidence that there was one bomb, on a timer. It looks like it was planted inside the ATM, which limits our suspects."

"Bank employee," stated Granger.

David shook his head. "Not quite that limited. Over the weekends the machine is supplied fresh cash each day by an armored car service. On Mondays, like today, employees may not open the machine to withdraw weekend deposits until after 10:00 a.m. The woman responsible for that today, a…" David looked down at his notebook, "…Reneé Martin, we can't check with her to determine whether or not she'd done it yet, this morning."

Don pulled his attention from the scene and frowned at David. "Why not? Charlie and I got here at 9:45, I know that much." He paled, suddenly, remembering the last words he had said to Charlie as his brother hopped out of the SUV and took off in a jog for the bank. He had gone to CalSci to pick Charlie up for a 10 a.m. briefing of the team, regarding the patterns Charlie had picked up in the data he'd been given yesterday…damned if Don could even remember the case, right now. All he could remember was Charlie asking him to pull over so he could use the ATM, and his own halfway annoyed "Hurry up," when his brother had opened the door of the SUV. "Hurry up" were the last words Charlie had heard from him. As if disgusted by the memory, his own ears seemed to close, and he could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart. Eventually, he looked at David, saw his lips moving, and willed himself to hear.

"Don? Don?'

At first he just read David's lips, and then he began to hear the other agent calling him, as if from a distance, looking concerned. Don realized he had missed the answer to his question. "What? What about this…this Martin woman?"

This time David did meet Colby's eyes, then looked at Don again. "I said, she's one of the victims, Don, she's dead. Are you all right? I saw the air bags went off in your SUV, you must have been shaken up yourself."

Don looked away again and started walking toward the scene. "Well, she probably wouldn't blow herself up," he said, as if to a child. "It's got to be someone working for the armored car service."

Colby kept pace with him. "I'm sure she didn't blow herself up on purpose, Don. We don't know enough to eliminate her as a suspect, yet. Accidents happen."

Don stopped cold, suddenly. Accidents happen. The cororner's office was still removing body bags, and he watched them. Charlie could have been in one of those. Charlie's hand would probably be in a very small body bag in the hospital medical waste bin later this afternoon. His eyes were drawn to something forlorn and black, virtually ignored on the edge of the carnage, and his breath caught in his throat. It looked…Dear God, it looked like one of Charlie's shoes. His brother had actually been blown out of his shoes. Sickened, he turned away, determined not to throw up again.

He put his hand out. "Give me the keys," he ground out, looking at Colby. "I'm going back to the office to see what forensics has come up with."

Colby started to shake his head. "I'll drive," he offered, but Don interrupted.

"Now, please, Agent. You'll stay here and work the scene with David. Ride back with him, or Megan." Colby still didn't move, and appeared to be looking over Don's shoulder. "Agent Granger!"

Don felt a hand on his arm, and he tried to jerk away. He whipped his head around fiercely to glare directly into the gray and serious eyes of his boss. "Agent Granger," Director Merrick said, never taking his eyes off Don, "keep your keys. Agent Eppes will be riding with me."

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Don was led silently to the Director's vehicle, and he settled in the passenger seat, trying to care. They had passed a bloodstain amongst the debris on the way, and now all Don could see again was Charlie, still and quiet, not responding when the EMTs jabbed large bore needles into him. There wasn't so much as a whimper when the bloody stump of his arm was lifted and wrapped in layers and layers of gauze, not even a groan when his hand, similarly wrapped, was laid carefully on his stomach, like a grisly birthday present.

They were on the freeway before Don focused on something outside of his head, and realized that they were headed the wrong direction. He looked accusingly at the Director. "This isn't the way to the office."

Merrick glanced at Don quickly, then back to the road. He spoke quietly, yet firmly. There was no mistaking who was in charge. "You have a choice, Agent Eppes. You can excuse yourself from working this case — from working at all, in fact, until you've been cleared by a bureau psychiatrist — or I will suspend your entire team. I should probably pull them all off this case anyway."

Don slammed a hand into the dashboard. "That's ridiculous," he growled. "All right, maybe I shouldn't be on this case, but not working at all? I wasn't even injured!"

The Director checked his rear view mirror and hit the signal to indicate he was taking the next exit. "The last thing any agent in my command needs is someone he or she is counting on for back-up having a PTSD moment in the field. This is non-negotiable, Agent Eppes."

Don saw the hospital looming in the distance. He fumed. "Where are you taking me?"

Director Merrick looked at him again, and the gentleness and compassion Don saw in his eyes, from such an unexpected source, nearly pushed him over the edge. "I'm taking you where you belong," answered Merrick.