Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(14)
“I’ll do the talking,” Elizabeth whispered beside him.
Derek rapped on the carved wooden door. They waited a few beats. The door swung back, and Hailey looked up at him.
“Evening, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant—”
“I know who you are.” She stepped out and threw her arms around his neck. She squeezed him tightly and held on so long he started to get embarrassed. Finally, she pulled back.
He cleared his throat. “Ma’am, this is Special Agent Elizabeth LeBlanc, with the FBI.”
She eyed Elizabeth warily. “Any interview requests are supposed to go through my attorney.”
“We’ll keep this brief. We don’t want to bother you.”
She glanced at Derek, then back at Elizabeth.
“We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” Elizabeth added.
Hailey stepped back to let them in. The house was a good thirty degrees cooler than outside, and Derek glanced around as she led them into a living room. A blanket was balled up at the end of the sofa. On the other end was a pillow with a flowered pillowcase that probably matched a bedspread somewhere upstairs. Mugs littered the coffee table, and a TV remote sat beside a pile of newspapers.
“You want anything to drink?” She looked at Derek, then Elizabeth. “I’ve got water, Gatorade . . .” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Chamomile tea.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Elizabeth smiled. “We won’t stay long.”
“Okay, then . . . have a seat, I guess.” She lowered herself onto the sofa. Elizabeth picked a leather ottoman, and Derek sat down in a striped armchair. Hailey was staring at him. He’d worn a T-shirt, jeans, and boots, thinking civilian clothes would make her more comfortable. But she seemed the opposite of comfortable as she pulled a pillow into her lap.
“How’s the wrist?” He nodded at her cast.
“All right.” She looked at Elizabeth. “What questions did you have? I’m not sure what I can tell you that you don’t already know.”
“Hailey, the SEALs who came to get you discovered some important information in the house where Dr. Lindh was being held.”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“That information’s been analyzed,” Elizabeth continued, “and it leads us to believe this group may be planning an attack. Something stateside.”
Hailey flinched. “You mean here?”
“Somewhere in America, yes. We’re not sure where, exactly. That’s something we need to find out.” Elizabeth paused. “Can you recall hearing anything during your captivity?”
She glanced at Derek and shook her head.
“Maybe a place name?” Elizabeth asked.
Hailey cleared her throat. “My Pashto’s pretty minimal. I mean, it sucks, if you want to know the truth.” She looked at Derek. “I really only know a few greetings and some medical terms.”
“Mine’s bad, too.” Derek leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “But you know, a lot of the place names—American place names—aren’t all that different. Can you think of any words that sounded like something familiar? Maybe similar to English?”
She shook her head.
“Hailey, besides Khalid Rana,” Elizabeth said, “you identified another one of your captors, Omar Rasheed.”
Her shoulders tensed.
“You also recognized photos of two of the guards killed by the SEALs. Can you think of anyone else who might have been there? Besides those we’ve identified?”
“Why?”
“We have fingerprint evidence that someone else may have been staying there in the house, too,” Elizabeth said. “We’re trying to figure out who.”
Hailey shook her head. “Those are the ones I remember.”
“There wasn’t anyone else? Maybe you didn’t see a face, but you heard a voice? Or heard another name being used?”
Another head shake.
Derek watched her, trying to read her body language. “Maybe Khalid mentioned someone?” he asked.
“He didn’t.” She was adamant. “None of them said much of anything to me. And what they did say—it’s all such a blur.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Take your time,” Elizabeth said.
She set the pillow aside and stood up, folding her arms tightly against her. He thought she was going to ask them to leave. Instead, she laughed.
“You know, I used to have a good memory. That’s the ironic thing. Now there’re these . . . chunks missing.”
Derek glanced at Elizabeth as Hailey walked to the window and looked out. The sun was sinking over the golf course, casting long shadows across the grass. But he doubted she was thinking about the scenery. More likely she was thinking of how it felt to be held captive by a bunch of filthy, stinking men who would have been happy to slit her throat. And Derek felt like shit for dredging all this up, but they needed to learn what she knew.
“Since I got back, I’ve become a total freak about everything.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m so paranoid all the time, jumping at shadows. Everywhere I go, it’s like there’s people following me. Reporters, stalkers, people watching my house.”
“You’re not paranoid,” Derek said. “People are watching your house.”