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tear off her cheek. Alexis started, surprised at the gentle touch of his calloused hand. She jerked open a desk drawer to hide her response. Retrieving a box of tissue, she took a moment to dry her eyes and blot her nose.
    “Was Carla injured?” he asked.
    Alexis nodded. “Yeah. Pretty severely. I think they transferred her to Georgetown University. She may be there a while. The poor girl, I don’t think she’s been married more than a year or two.”
    “I’ve worked with her before. I’ll go and see her,” Chris said.
    “What would cause someone to destroy all those families?” Alexis wrung the wet tissue between her hands. “Who could do something this awful?”
    “I don’t know who they are.” Chris shook his head and ran a hand through his wavy hair. “But I’m going to find out. We’re going to find them.” His voice lowered to a soothing whisper. “I promise you, we’re going to find them. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”
    His deep voice felt like a caress to Alexis. She smiled tremulously at him. If anyone could bring those responsible to justice it would be Chris.
    He stared at her. Returning his gaze, she relished the look in his eyes, as warm and delicious as a brownie fresh from the oven. Chris’ hand touched her cheek. She wished they could forget about the heart-wrenching events of the morning and enjoy this connection.
    “Chris,” Dylan yelled from the hallway; his loud call jolting them back to reality.
    Chris jerked away. Alexis picked up a stack of papers. She tried to compose herself, not wanting Dylan to see them so intimately connected. The awful events of this morning had caused her to let her guard down with Chris.
    Chris offered her a small smile. “I’ll see you later, Half-pint.” Rising to his feet, he strode from her office.
    “Bye,” Alexis murmured, crunching the papers in her hands. She tried not to feel slighted when Chris rushed away with Dylan without so much as a backward glance in her direction.
    “Back to reality,” she said to herself. “Chris has a girlfriend and I’m just someone he works with.”
    Her mind tried to wrap itself around these thoughts. Chris couldn’t be interested in her. He was already involved with someone else. Her hand touched her cheek. If she shut her eyes, she could still picture him gazing at her, still feel the warmth of his touch. Anything more might be only a dream, but she allowed herself to dream for a little while.

CHRIS AND DYLAN SPENT AN HOUR rehashing scant information with six other anti-terrorism teams. The hastily called meeting frustrated Chris. The teams separated to work in pairs on projects that probably wouldn’t yield anything new, but the FBI didn’t leave a rock unturned. Chris and Dylan poured over reports and parade rosters for hours, trying to glean something useful.
    “Let’s go over what we do know.” Chris rubbed at the gravel in his eyes. Research was his least favorite part of his job.
    “Okay.” Dylan raised his eyes from the reports and leaned back in his chair. “The lab results say it was your typical car bomb. Ammonium nitrate mixed with nitro-methane.”
    “Oklahoma City?”
    “Yes, except they used diesel fuel instead of racing fuel. Nitro-methane burns stronger,” Dylan said grimly. “Some kind of remote detonator was used, cell phone, two-way radio. The bombs were all the same size with about a thousand pound explosive capacity and a hundred and twenty-five foot lethal blast radius.”
    Chris nodded. “Okay. So that tells us, what? The attacks were coordinated? Any idiot could figure that out.”
    “You’re right.”
    “Looking at these parade rosters is a complete waste of time.” Chris pushed the papers away. “When we figure out which of the floats had a bomb hidden on them, the names will be fake. No one would be stupid enough to use their real names when they’re planning on blowing a parade sky high.”
    “True,” Dylan’s voice conveyed his exhaustion.