Cut and Run 4 - Divide and Conquer

over the components? Was it
    even the same signature?”
    “No, in process, and yes,” McCoy rattled back. “Look, Grady.
    There‟s not much I can tell you. We‟re pulling in every single person
    we can from both scenes to submit reports so we can try to rebuild what
    happened. But there‟s precious little to work with right now. And two
    more banks were hit on the same days, so our agents are worn thin.”
    “Two more banks?” Ty asked, pulling up short. “That‟s not weird
    at all.”
    “Yes, thank you, Kojak, we‟ve already connected the dots on that
    one.”
    “If the bombs are being set solely as distractions so banks can be
    robbed, then why am I being considered a target?” Ty posed.
    “Because you‟re you—you‟re always a target.”
    “That seems unreasonable,” Ty muttered disconsolately. “Look,
    you‟ve got to be stretched to the limit on this.”
    “We are.”
    Divide & Conquer | 167

    “All the more reason to let me do something.”
    “The last time you worked a bomb, you ended up blowing
    something kind of important up. And the last bank robbery you
    worked, you didn‟t have any gray hair,” McCoy told him.
    Ty frowned and looked up as if he could see his own hair. “I have
    gray hair?”
    McCoy laughed at him.
    Ty growled in frustration and looked away. Either this was a
    friend being blunt, or it was his superior being evasive. Either way, he
    wasn‟t going to get any information. He sighed. “Fine,” he agreed
    grudgingly. He‟d find another way to get some information. Instead he
    moved on to the other reason he‟d come in. “I need to find a rookie that
    was at the second scene. He drove me to the hospital, then ran off with
    Garrett‟s keys.”
    McCoy frowned. “What rookie?”
    “He looked about fifteen. I can‟t remember his name,” Ty
    admitted as he closed his eyes and tried to visualize the name on the
    windbreaker the kid had been wearing. “Reece, maybe? Reeves?” he
    tried.
    “Reeves?” Alston asked from behind him.
    “Sounds right,” Ty told him with a shrug as he turned to look
    back at him. Apparently he and the others had followed Ty to McCoy‟s
    office to watch any fireworks that ensued.
    “Ty,” Alston said with a frown. “Special Agent Lydia Reeves was
    inside the building when the bomb went off. She was carried out right
    before Garrett, hurt pretty bad. She‟s still in the ICU at UMMC.”
    Ty stared at him, not quite comprehending what he‟d said at first.
    Then the implications came tumbling down on him so hard he almost
    physically staggered.
    “They‟d have a spotter,” he said softly. “They‟d set the bomb and
    find some way to watch the response.”
    168 | Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    “Bomber picked up her windbreaker to get closer?” Alston
    ventured with a frown. “Wait, did you say he kept Garrett‟s keys?
    Where is Garrett now?”
    Ty was already pushing past him and sprinting for the stairwell.
    “Behind you!” Alston shouted, and Ty knew the man was calling
    in backup to meet them at Zane‟s apartment. He took out his own
    phone and hit the speed dial as he raced down the stairs for the parking
    deck and the hated Valkyrie.
    The phone rang and rang with no answer, and Zane‟s voice mail
    picked up, his recorded voice serious and to the point before the beep.
    Ty cursed as the beep sounded and snapped the phone shut. It wasn‟t
    like someone would have to attack Zane to hurt him. All they‟d have to
    do was knock on the door, quietly place a bomb in the house, since
    Zane couldn‟t see it to know it was there, and the job was done. A
    neighbor with chicken soup. A deliveryman with flowers. Zane would
    never be the wiser.
    Ty shoved through the stairwell door and darted across the
    parking deck. He knew he should wait for Alston and a car and backup,
    but he also knew deep down he could get there a hell of a lot faster on
    the stupid freaking motorcycle.

    ZANE leaned forward against the wall, weight on his forearms and
    head down as the hot water pounded down on his neck and shoulders,
    splattering down over his back. He tipped his head from side to side,
    sighing as he felt the muscles relaxing. He‟d gotten rid of the scent of
    orange juice and the sticky pulp residue, but he was nowhere near
    brainstorming through all the possible fallout scenarios of telling Ty
    that Ryan had brought him that care package.
    Stewing over it wasn‟t helping his headache; it was a bad one
    today. The doctor had