“Tara, about two days ago I got a photograph in the mail. It was a picture of you, a recent picture of you. I believe The Network sent it to me as a message.”
She leaned back into the couch, shaking her head. “No way. This is crazy.”
“Stay with me, Tara,” I said. “This is all real.”
“No,” she said. “No. I’m not the target of some terrorist group. You’re crazy.”
“I believe you are. In the past few days, has anyone approached you? Possibly a man that looked Indian, about my height and weight? He likely spoke perfect English.”
She shook her head. “No. Nobody like that.”
“Think harder, Tara. Have you seen anyone following you lately?”
Slowly she nodded. “Oh my god. Yesterday.”
“What happened?”
“Just before you showed up, I was in the park with Mason and I dropped my wallet. A man followed me back to my house to return it.” She looked at me, stunned. “He looked Indian, just like you described. Seemed nice.”
“I believe that man was Omar Hooth, one of the most dangerous Pakistani terrorists in the world.”
She looked dazed. “Is that why we left the café?”
“Yes,” I said. “I spotted him sitting nearby, watching us. I decided we should lose him and talk.”
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I can’t. You have to be lying to me. A terrorist wants to hurt me?”
“He wants to hurt me,” I said, “and he’ll do anything to do that.”
She stared at me, and I could see the fear beginning to bubble for real underneath her gaze. She was taking it pretty well, all considered, but I knew she was just a second from losing it completely.
“We need to call the police,” she said.
“No. We can’t call them.”
“Why? Emory, they can help us.”
“I’m under orders from my commanding officer. We can’t alert the local police.”
“But they can help,” she said again, clearly desperate.
“If we call the cops, the media will hear about this. Maybe not right away, but sooner or later, they will. And if word gets out that Omar Hooth is in America, there will be a panic, and we will lose him.”
“So you’re using me and my baby as bait?”
“Not at all,” I said. “But if we want to stop him, we can’t let him get away.”
“Emory, this is insane. Please, let’s just call the police or the FBI or someone.”
I shook my head. “No, Tara. You don’t fucking need them. You have SEAL Team Eight.”
“I just have you,” she said softly.
“For now.”
“There are more of you?”
“Of course there are,” I said, grinning. “If we need help, they’re a phone call away.”
“Call them,” she said.
“Not yet. Omar hasn’t made a move yet, but he definitely knows I’m here. We can’t risk spooking him.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide, and stood up. “I want you to leave.”
“Tara—”
“No. I want you to get out. First you get me pregnant and disappear, and now you’re saying some terrorist is going to try to kill me?”
I stood, shaking my head. “I didn’t want any of this.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your fault. Your fault.”
“I know that.”
“Get out. I want you to get out.”
“Okay.” I took a few steps into the kitchen and then looked back at her. “But I’m not going far. Hate me or don’t, but Omar is dangerous and he’s nearby. I won’t leave you alone.”
“Just get out.”
I turned and left, closing the front door behind me.
I stood on her porch for a second, taking deep breaths. I understood why she reacted that way, but it still didn’t feel nice to be reminded that this was all my fault.
She was right. It was my fault.
I never meant for this girl to get mixed up in any of this. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of myself, or at least the person I used to be. Back before all the training, before my mother died, I was just another Midwestern kid trying to live my life.
Now I was an international terrorist hunter, and I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
But I wasn’t about to let Tara and Mason down. We hadn’t talked much about him, since the pressing issue of a dangerous terrorist coming for them was a little more important, but he was never far from the back of my mind. Mason was my son, that was for sure, and whether or not I ever planned on having children didn’t matter anymore.
I was a father.
But first, I was a SEAL.
I moved out, cutting across her lawn. I was determined to sweep the area again, maybe see if I couldn’t smoke out Omar on my own.
7
Tara
I felt like my whole body was ringing as Emory left the house.
I couldn’t believe a word he had told me. Apparently I was the target of some incredibly dangerous international terrorist from Pakistan, and I had even met him just the day before.
This was all so unreal. I sat down on the couch and began to take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
There were a few things that pointed toward his story being true. First, there was the fact that I couldn’t find Emory no matter what I tried. It was totally possible that he really was a SEAL and the government really did protect his identity.
Next, there was the fact that he described the man I’d met almost perfectly. Plus, I’d been feeling strange lately, like someone was watching me. Maybe that was because someone really was watching me; I just couldn’t see who it was.
Finally, there was the way Emory had brought us back to the house, that winding, strange path. It was clearly a way to make it difficult for someone to follow us, though why that mattered was beyond me. They already knew where I lived.
And in that moment, I realized that I believed him. I believed what he had told me and I believed that I really was in danger.
That realization sent a bolt of terror through my spine.
Mason and my mom. They were walking around the park, the last place I ran into Omar.
I stood up and ran out the door. I didn’t see Emory anywhere as I looked around frantically. I gave up after a second and practically sprinted to the park, not caring that I probably looked like a crazy person.
I burst onto the blacktop of the walking path and looked around. They were nowhere in sight. Panic was welling up in my chest.
What if Omar Hooth had my son and my mother? Would he kill them or just hold them ransom?
No, I couldn’t think that way. I just couldn’t let myself start thinking of the worst. Mom and Mason were fine. I just had to find them.
I started walking, looking everywhere. I walked fast, not trying to draw more attention to myself than I already had, but I probably looked like a crazy person. My heart was racing in my chest and fear was icing up my legs, but the thought of someone hurting my baby or my mother kept me moving forward.
I rounded the corner, headed toward the jungle gym, and there they were. Mom had Mason in her arms, a bottle in his mouth, sitting on a bench facing the swings.