Page 80 of Operation Heartbeat

It was in the cloud.

She dropped into the chair and ran the email through a quick security check to make sure it wouldn’t wipe out her system using some virus. When it checked out, she felt a flutter of excitement. Having something to occupy her mind would make the time pass by quicker.

As she opened the email, her heart beat faster. It was another picture.

A puzzle of many images making up a larger one.

With her stare fixed to the screen, she absentmindedly reached for her notepad and pencil. A few papers floated to the floor, but she ignored them as she hurled herself into her work.

When she enlarged the photo, she issued a soft noise of surprise. If the last image contained a lot of photos, this puzzle had twice as many. She pulled her chair closer to the table for a better view and began scribbling notes.

This image wasn’t a painting but a modern piece of photography. The big photo of a cold, gray building against a stark sky left a chill in her veins. The overall feel of the photo wouldn’t have anybody feeling warm and fuzzy.

She clicked on the right top corner and began skimming over the smaller images that comprised the piece. The first image she saw was a sheet of paper. A closer look revealed it to be a last will and testament, but the name of who it belonged to was blank. The one right beside it was a gray granite headstone.

A third photo was of a dark SUV.

Her blood turned icier the more she studied the piece.

Another photo was an outline of a shooting target, a human with bullseyes on the head and heart.

These were definitely open threats. But to who?

Her breaths came faster. She moved through several more images, all with a similarly ominous feel. As she flipped, she spotted the American flag.

“Oh god.”

Surrounding the flag were military men.

The base flashed through her mind—Fort Leonard Woods.

She was getting close. She could feel it. She could almost taste—

She stopped on a cry as an image flashed on the screen. Her blood ran cold.

A photo of Con.

A much younger Con, fresh out of basic training. His stern expression was unchanged, but he still had the promise of youth in his eyes that had been stripped away by the years of service and replaced by a harder glint of steel.

Except when he looked at her, and his eyes warmed.

Beneath that was another image. This one a death certificate.

When she enhanced the screen to read the name on it, she let out a sharp cry and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Ryan Constantine’s name was on that death certificate. Whoever sent this had been following Con.

To the direct right of that was an image that sent her into a dead panic. A more current photo of Con, standing tall and proud, his legs planted in the wide, confident stance she’d seen him adopt many times. Though he wore a pair of dark glasses and was looking away from the camera, she knew it was him.

So did the person who snapped the photo and added it to this collage.

Her fingers trembled as she panned downward, over the image to the bottom. A single word made her blood freeze in her veins.

Target

Her body jerked from the terror coursing through her. Her nerves shook so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if they tore loose like a tornado wiped out power lines.

She couldn’t contact Con at all. She wished she’d given him a harder time for not sharing the secure number withherrather than giving it to Deniz instead.

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