“Yeah? I got her, Deke. Seth okay?” He paused. “Good. Let him sleep. Listen, get Tara up and to her computer. We need to find out exactly how Del might have been traced.”
“My credit card.” Del knew her voice would be muffled by the blanket.
“What?” From that tone, Del knew that Tyler had heard her and questioned her sanity more than her words.
“I waited as long as I could. I hoped that Carlson didn’t know anyone in Louisiana.”
Tyler sighed. “He can hire guns in a heartbeat. No more credit cards. They’re too traceable. Did you hear that?” he asked Deke. “Right. See if Tara can prove that Carlson’s been tapping her credit card records. Del?”
“Yeah.” She wished she could see him, but it shouldn’t be too much longer before they exited the airport—provided airport security hadn’t picked up the entire altercation in the terminal and decided to hunt her down.
“Hang on and stay quiet.”
The truck slowed. Her heart stopped.
The electronic window rolled down a moment later, and Tyler said, “Good morning.”
“Hmm.” The cashier made a noncommittal sound. “Is it? You’re here early.”
“Just dropping off someone for a flight.”
“Two dollars.”
After a rustling of bills, the window buzzed back up and the truck started moving again, picking up speed every second they rolled.
He lifted the backpack off of her, then tossed the blanket back a fraction. Cool air washed over her face, and she sighed with something between pleasure and relief.
Tyler jacked the phone back up to his ear. “Stay down another minute, Del. There are a few cops hanging around. Until we know who’s involved . . .”
Don’t trust anyone. That had been his and Eric’s motto when they’d been together on the force.
The cab of the truck remained deathly silent except for her own breathing for the next few minutes. Finally, Tyler reached down and helped her into the passenger’s seat. “Good. Now, tell me, do you have a copy of the police report about the bomb that exploded your car?”
“No. I didn’t know who I could trust. I’d been asking questions at the precinct. I couldn’t get anyone to help me. I thought about calling Eric, but . . . After the bomb exploded, I just grabbed Seth, borrowed a neighbor’s car, and left town with nothing but the cash in my pocket. I stopped for a few supplies along the way and called an investigative reporter friend of mine, Lisa. She’d been helping me track you down. Once we pieced all the clues together, I drove straight to you.”
“Right.” Tyler’s jaw tensed. “You don’t know if it was C4 or a binary explosive? If it was an engine ignition or a remote detonation device?”
God, she’d seen the blast in her head a million times since it happened. Felt the shock, the roaring heat, heard the deafening roar of the blast. But she’d never picked the scene apart mentally with that much detail.
“Um, I don’t know anything about explosives, so no idea what they used. I started the car with my key fob. As I turned to pick Seth up, everything blew up. Damn near vaporized it.”
“Hear that, Deke? Yeah, I agree, sounds like it was rigged to blow when the ignition turned over.” Tyler turned a serious gaze on her. “Do you remember anything else? See anyone unusual loitering? Notice that your car had been tampered with?”
“Nothing. It was early morning. There was no one on the street. The sun wasn’t all the way up, so I couldn’t see anything unusual about my car.”
“Then what?”
“After the explosion, I screamed and stumbled back, shoving Seth to the ground. I covered him with my body. I got some scratches and bruises. He was okay, just scared. Oh, and it smelled terrible. A weird kind of . . . burned-orange-peel smell.”
“Shit.” Tyler gripped the cell phone even tighter. “Semtex, Deke?” He paused. “Yeah, run it by Jack. He’d know since he likes things that go boom. Let me know what he says. I’ll call later.”
With that, he hung up and turned to her. Whatever she’d said . . . Tyler’s face more than hinted it wasn’t good. “Tell me.”
He didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “Semtex is the former Eastern Bloc’s version of C4. It often smells like a burnt orange peel. None of the other explosives really leave a signature odor like that.”
“Eastern Bloc?”
“Popular with the Russian Mob. They come up during your research?”