Conard County Revenge

“The timing creates a problem,” he said a while later. “Two in the morning on a Sunday? Nobody in the building, not even a janitor? Property damage only? No point to it unless you hate band saws.”

He was pleased to see a smile tug at the corner of Darcy’s mouth. Okay, then, she wasn’t that uptight.

She answered, “It does seem like an extreme way to drop a class.”

While he and Wayne both smiled, Alex felt his innards coiling. She could joke about it, but he was quite sure every single one of his students was going to be put on trial in this woman’s mind.

Fairly, he acknowledged that was part of her job, to regard everyone who might be involved as a potential suspect. But he’d left that world behind and he had come to understand since the bombing just how protective he felt of his students. They were the bright and shiny future he’d once sought only to lose it in the bowels of criminal minds. Especially that last case. He closed his eyes momentarily and shoved the memories aside.

Anyway, because of those students he had a bright and shiny present, and he wanted to keep it that way, mostly for them. The microscope of suspicion could cause a lot of damage, and by the nature of her job, Darcy brought suspicion. Much as he didn’t want to get involved with the work again, it appeared he would have to. Who else could ride herd on her? Or even guide her to a reasonable list of suspects? Therein lay a great deal of his training.

It wasn’t as if he would start rustling up his training now that she arrived, though. Hell, no. He’d begun gathering evidence from the moment he learned what had happened. Some things never turned off.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to dive in full strength.

Wayne’s elbow brushed his. “About ready?”

Alex looked down at his plate. Two mouthfuls remaining. “When are we meeting Charity?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Then give me a minute to finish. I can’t bear to waste any of this sandwich.”

Wayne laughed. “Have at it.” Across the table, Darcy had stopped eating. Slightly more than half her sandwich was gone. “Need a container?”

“Please.”

Wayne waved and moments later Maude stomped over with a foam container. “More coffee?” she asked as she put the container down on the table.

“The latte was great,” Darcy said pleasantly. “I’ll be back for another later.”

Alex took the last bite of sandwich because it was a great way to stifle his grin as Darcy watched Maude stomp away without the merest acknowledgment of the compliment. Darcy shook her head a little and put her sandwich in the container. “My truck’s just outside the sheriff’s office. I can follow you.”

“It’s not that far,” Alex said. “Down the street out there toward the north of town. No turns. You can’t miss it.”

She nodded and rose, lifting her box. “I’ll meet you at the school then.”

Alex watched her walk over to the register and pay for her lunch. Per diem, he thought. She’d come with cash to cover her expenses, maybe a credit card for the motel, and she wouldn’t allow anyone to pick up her tab. He was familiar with the protocol.

Wayne stood a moment later. “You coming?”

“Of course.” His gaze followed Darcy through the door.

Wayne laughed, drawing his attention. “Watch it, man. I was a fool to fall for Charity when I thought she’d be leaving in a week or two. But I was lucky.”

Alex gave him a crooked grin. “I’m that obvious?”

“I’d be looking, too, if I weren’t happily married. She’s a stunner, all right.”

“As long as she doesn’t catch me drooling, we’ll be fine.”

Wayne laughed again as they went over to the register. “I thought you were done with the Feebs.”

“I sure thought so.”

“Funny how circumstances can change things.”

Chapter 2

As promised, Darcy had no difficulty finding the high school. It kind of hit her in the face at the north end of the street. It also looked sadly deserted except for some people working inside a police-taped area toward the rear corner, under a large canopy. Yellow evidence markers covered the ground, looking like a field of out-of-control dandelions.

She sat studying the destruction from the parking lot, taking it in, estimating the explosive force involved. Pure guesswork at this point, but the damage to that corner of the school was extensive. A fertilizer bomb. She’d encountered them before during her years with ATF, but quite a few of them had been duds. Seriously, it wasn’t easy. Timothy McVeigh had had a lot of time to experiment beforehand. Yeah, he’d thrown the final bomb together at the last minute in the back of a rental truck, but he’d had plenty of experience and experimentation to back up that effort. Plus, a great detonation system.

Detonators weren’t exactly easy to come by, either. They had to be signed for. Permits were required. Plenty of people had legitimate reasons to get them, but they left a paper trail. Possible, of course, to make a detonator if you knew what you were doing. She was looking forward to finding out if they’d recovered any remains of the ignition device. Given the hour of the night when the bomb had exploded, a timer had to be involved. A timer or a cell phone. Curiosity began whetting her appetite for this job.

Athletic fields spread out from the school building, large and spacious because this county had the room. Some trees lined the north and west ends of the fields, most likely as a windbreak. In the winter it was probably very stark, but now, in the late spring, it was simply relaxing and beautiful.

Until she trained her gaze again on the scarred building. Annoyed as she had been to be pulled off the other case, that was forgotten as she looked at the new challenge. Build a case. Find a perp. Ascertain every part of the bomb that had been used here and try to trace it to someone. Excitement began to rise in her. A whole new case, entirely her own, unless she needed to send for assistance. A lot of trust from her superiors. For the first time it struck her that she’d had a kind of promotion by being sent out here to do the job herself. She’d never headed up a task force, but she was doing that now, even without the accompanying manpower here.

Resources would be at her disposal back at the field office. Other agents would be assisting her. A new level of responsibility. She was determined not to fail.

Both Wayne and Alex had parked nearby, and she realized they were waiting for her to exit her vehicle. Time to start earning her spurs.

She climbed out, carrying her notebook computer and a legal pad on which to scrawl notes to herself. The computer would make taking photos easy, but she’d never mastered the art of holding the tablet in one hand and typing with the other. A few key identifiers, yes, but actual notes? She preferred to write them on paper and organize them later on the tablet.

She also retrieved some evidence bags and some rubber gloves, stuffing her pockets with them. Best to be prepared, although right now it appeared that the local authorities had matters well in hand.

She switched the computer on as she approached the two men, and was glad to see she was getting a wireless signal. She’d discovered quite a few dead zones on her way to Conard City. Apparently that wasn’t a problem in town.

Summoning a smile, she reached the two men.

“That’s my wife, Charity,” Wayne said, pointing.

Darcy picked out a blonde woman who was probably stunning when she wasn’t wearing suspendered fireman’s pants and boots and heavy gloves. Good clothing choice for the job. Darcy’s fresh-from-the-office outfit was going to hinder her until she could change. At least she’d worn sensible black flats.

Charity waved at them and strode toward them. “Hi,” she said, accepting a quick kiss from Wayne. “You must be Darcy Eccles.” She waved her glove, stained with soot. “I’ll shake your hand later.”

Darcy liked her immediately. “That can wait. How’s your investigation going?”

“Like most investigations. The cause is obvious. Finding all the pieces is a bit more difficult. We did find some slivers of PVC pipe, but at this point we can’t be sure it didn’t come from the building and not the bomb. As you can see, it was a decent blast, but not huge.”

“Any sign of the ignition source?”

Charity shook her head. “Agent, I’m going to let you go through all the pieces. I’ve never dealt with a bomb and I couldn’t recognize a lot of items that might be significant. We’re mapping our finds on a grid, taking photos, bagging stuff we don’t want to leave out in the elements. Mainly, we’re trying not to disturb anything. Is that good?”

Darcy was surprised that she was being asked, then wondered why. Bombs were her area of expertise, not the arson investigator’s.

“That’s great. I’m going to need someplace where I can lay things out and look at them. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a few pictures right now if I won’t get in your way.”

Charity lifted the yellow tape. “Have at it. I’ve been waiting impatiently to turn this over to you. I wouldn’t have touched anything at all except the wind moves things and covers them with dust and dirt, and what if it rained?”

Darcy smiled at her. “It sounds like you’ve done an excellent job of protecting the evidence.”

“I hope,” said Charity. “Anything you need from me, let me know.”

As Darcy approached the blast area, she saw that the damaged side of the building gaped open like a devouring mouth. “Any chance we can get tarps over the side of the building? After I have a chance to get up top and make sure they wouldn’t conceal anything. But not tacked to the side of the building until we’ve examined it.”

Charity turned toward the two men. “Think so?”

“I’m sure,” said Alex. “We have a storage room at the school still full of roofing tarps from a tornado that went through a few years ago.”

“FEMA roofs,” Darcy said.

Alex laughed. “I’ve heard them called that.”

“Thanks for the tarps,” Darcy said. “We need to make sure any evidence inside is protected as well as you’ve done outside.”

Standing near the edge of what appeared to be the blast circle, Darcy took in the damage to the cinder block wall, and the spread of debris, many of the larger pieces lying on the ground still, but carefully tucked into clear evidence bags for protection.

“I’m glad you didn’t start gathering it up yet,” she said to Charity. “I’ll get a very clear picture this way. I’m going to walk around the perimeter and take some photos.”

Charity nodded. “Do what you need to. Jeff and Randy and I will get back to scouring the area. We started at one edge and have been working our way slowly and carefully across so as to disturb as little as possible.”

Darcy nodded, both impressed and pleased. Of course, as an investigator, Charity had plenty of knowledge of how to protect evidence.

She started walking around the edge of the yellow tape, aware that Alex stayed nearby, but not concerned about it. With every step she took, she studied the ground in case something had blown farther out than the gridded area that the fire people had laid out. While they appeared to have properly designated the blast area, she’d long ago learned that some things flew a much greater distance than you’d expect. Some things that might appear innocuous when removed from all the surrounding evidence. Like a shiny building nail she’d found forty feet from the blast radius two cases ago.

She stopped and took another photo toward the center of the blast. “Do you suppose,” she asked Alex absently, “we could organize a search of the area farther out?”

“I would think so. I could probably get a bunch of my students...”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She faced him then, her heart skipping a surprised beat as she was struck again by his attractive features. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you.”

“You don’t. But I don’t have to like it. My students are all good people, but I understand you have to figure that out for yourself. The problem is, Darcy, how are you going to form a search party if you don’t know who to trust?”

“Uniforms,” she said shortly, then stopped. A young man stood at the edge of the no-man’s land, his hands in his pockets, his gaze intent on the work around the bombed area.

“Who’s that?” she asked sharply.

Alex swiveled his head. “Jackson Castor. Jack. He’s in my cabinetry class. Great guy.”

“Hmm.” Darcy said no more but continued to slowly follow her circumnavigation while studying the ground far beyond the area where the firemen worked. When the opportunity arrived, she included Jackson Castor in a couple of shots.

Perps often showed a great deal of interest in the crime scene. She knew of numerous cases where a bomber had returned to watch the investigation while admiring his handiwork. Before she said anything about it, however, she was going to find out more about this Castor person.

She suspected Alex knew what had crossed her mind but she’d already sensed how protective he was of his students. A broody mother hen, she thought with amusement, but still one who had been an FBI agent and therefore probably knew how often the perpetrators showed up at the crime scene. Nope, better not to say a word. Maybe let him think the young man’s presence had just slid right by her because of her focus on the ground.

The grasses were beginning to green with the spring, which didn’t make her search any easier. What was the likelihood there’d been any metal in that bomb? Nobody had mentioned a pipe bomb or nails, so they surely hadn’t discovered any nails and not enough debris to know the type of bomb.

Then she spied something odd. A green blade of grass had a hole in it. Squatting, she looked more closely. The edge of the hole was blackened. Something awfully hot had passed through it.

She set her tablet beside her, and pulled on a pair of gloves so she could comb through the grass. Something had to be here unless it was nothing but a cinder. She couldn’t take that chance.

She sensed Alex squat beside her, but he didn’t say anything. Gently she moved blades of grass, drawing a line in her mind. The blast had come from over there. Anything flying from it would have come from the same general direction. That told her where to concentrate her efforts.

Then she spied it: a three-inch piece of slender wire. A little melted at one end, but otherwise surprisingly unaffected. It might be nothing, or it might be a part of the triggering device. Certainly not to be left behind. She took a photo of it and the blade of grass.

Then she tugged out an evidence bag, used a pen from her pocket to write on it, then carefully sealed the wire in the bag. Looking up, she tried to decide if it would be safe to leave it here or if she should mark the spot and take it.

Take it, she decided. This area hadn’t been cordoned off. “I need some evidence markers from the back of my truck, or from the fire department.”

Alex straightened. “I’ll get you some from them. Might as well keep the numbering the same.”

“Thanks.” She quickly scrawled the GPS coordinates on her pad and waited for Alex to return with the plastic tent-style markers. When he did, she placed the numbered yellow piece and took another photo before adding the number to her description on the pad.

Painstaking work. Every bit of it.

“Any thoughts on what it could be?” Alex asked. He didn’t sound as if he expected an answer.

“Too soon,” she said anyway. All she knew for certain was that it had been blown out here by the explosion.

She straightened up and looked around. “I need to change into some decent work clothes. And ask Charity to widen her cordon considerably. How’s the motel?”

“It’s clean but it’s old,” he said. “Wish we had something better to offer.”

“Clean is good enough. How do I find it?”

* * *

Alex watched her talk to Charity, who agreed to bring the cordon out another thirty or forty feet. He wondered if she ever softened or if she was always so businesslike.

Then he saw her walking toward Jack Castor. Immediately he jogged over. He knew Jack well and was absolutely certain he wasn’t capable of doing something like this. Yeah, he understood why Darcy was probably looking askance at the youth, but...

He caught himself. He’d learned a long time ago not to make those assumptions about anyone. Your own mother could be the murderer. Living with that kind of knowledge, borne out in his work, had driven him to a more peaceful life. Reality could be ugly. Oddly, he found himself recalling a quip he heard from reporters: if your mother says she loves you, check it out.

Darcy was doing her job. Ugliness had penetrated his new life, and he needed to squash urges that could hinder this investigation. Whoever had done this might move to larger bombs, bombs that could take a life. No time to be overprotective.

He reached Darcy and Jack in time to hear her say pleasantly, “Alex says you’re in his cabinetry class. So this bombing interests you?”

Jack grinned. “A whole lot. I never told anybody because I’m just a ranch kid and might not be able to go to college, but I always wanted to work for ATF.”

“Yeah?” Darcy smiled. “It’s fascinating work. What draws you to it?”

Jack’s smile faded. “I have a friend... Well, his grandfather was killed in the Oklahoma City bombing. He wasn’t even born yet, but his mom talked about it a lot for years and I heard about it, and every time she did I just wanted to do something useful about it. I know that’s over and done with, but it wasn’t the last bomb.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She turned and indicated the school. “You have any ideas about this?”

“Who’d do this, you mean?”

Darcy simply waited.

“No.” Jack looked almost crestfallen. “I wish I did. I mean, I can listen around and see if I hear anything, but I haven’t yet.” He looked down, then back at Darcy. “That’s the weird part.”

“What is?”

“You’d think someone would brag about it.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Well...” Jack shifted from one foot to the other. “If it was some kid at the school...he’d tell someone. Most of us can’t keep a secret that exciting.”

Alex was surprised when Darcy laughed. “You make a good point, Jack.”

Jack’s smile returned. “Anyway, whoever did it would probably want to tell at least one person, someone he trusted, right? But that person would probably spill the beans to someone else...” He shrugged. “Or not. I guess some people must be really good at keeping secrets.”

“Some are,” Darcy agreed. “But your thinking is good. Keep it up. You’re going to have to move back soon. We’re extending the perimeter.”

“Can I help with anything?” Jack asked eagerly.

Darcy shook her head. “Officials only.”

“Okay, I’ll stay out of the way.”

“You do that.”

Then she continued toward her truck. Alex followed, still concerned. “What are you thinking?” he asked as she opened her truck door.

“You mean about Jack?”

“Of course about Jack.”

“Nothing yet,” she said with a shrug. “Keep your pants on, Alex. It’s early days.”

He watched her drive away and half wished he could shake her out of her detachment. Then he remembered what had happened when he’d lost his. Divorce. Nightmares. End of career.

Aw, screw it, he thought and headed for the undamaged part of the school to check on those tarps. Let the agent do her job. He’d stay as far away as he could because he didn’t want the nightmares to come back. And he sure as hell didn’t need any new ones.

* * *

At the motel, which was clean albeit seriously outdated, Darcy showered away the travel grime, then changed into her gray working overalls and black boots. On her way back out to the site, she stopped long enough to grab another latte to stave off the fatigue from the long drive and added more tall cups of black coffee for the firefighters working out there.

She was surprised when she pulled into the parking lot to see that a small crowd of onlookers had appeared. Either word had got out that the ATF was here, or the firemen had found something exciting.

If they were curious because of her, they were in for a serious disappointment, she thought wryly. One agent in overalls was hardly the show they’d be hoping for. And they’d be right. Most explosions drew a bigger response, but at the moment too many cases had investigators pretty tied up. If she needed some backup, she would get it, but right now hands were tied.

She pulled in between two dusty pickup trucks, then retrieved her laptop and evidence case from the back of her truck.

Almost at once Jackson Castor appeared. “Let me at least carry the coffee,” he said eagerly.

So he was still here, still interested in the goings-on. Might be a flag, might not be. So far nothing was setting off her internal warnings except his presence.

“Thanks. Make sure everyone working gets a cup,” she said. Relieved of the extra coffees, she could handle the other items better. “Is Alex still around?”

“Yeah. He’s been inside the school a lot. I guess you wanted some tarps?”

And just how did he know that? Was Alex talking to him? And what if all these people were here because something important had been found? The ATF preferred to keep evidence to themselves until they had the most complete picture possible. Dribbling news out to the public could only create problems and possibly false expectations or, worse, appear to accuse innocent people.

Not that her organization was completely without stains and mistakes. Like any organization, it was made up of people and people weren’t perfect.

The cordon had been extended as she had asked, creating a much-wider area for investigation. She asked Jack to remain at the edge of the yellow tape and told him she’d tell everyone he was holding coffee for them. He seemed pleased by his job, however humble.

Well, she thought, it was possible he was just a kid who was interested in a career. It didn’t have to mean anything that he was hanging around so eagerly. She discovered she was honestly hoping he was as innocent as Alex believed him to be.

The crowd, such as it was, showed a lot of interest in her, but she could feel their repressed disappointment that she was just one small woman and she didn’t have a brawny team marching with her.

Not a very impressive display for the ATF, she thought with grim humor.

As she approached the most obviously blackened area, she caught up with Charity Camden. “Jack Castor. You know him?”

“The high school kid? Sort of. I seem to remember him from a talk I gave at the school about arson last fall. Eager and full of questions. Good questions.”

How interesting, Darcy thought but kept the thought to herself. “I left him at the cordon holding coffee for you and your guys, and anyone else working on this. Maybe you’re used to it, but it feels chilly to me out here.”

Charity smiled. “Coffee’s always welcome. Thanks.”

“What brought the crowd? Did you find something?”

Charity laughed. “Not what, but who. They heard ATF was here. Enjoy your celebrity, if you can. I experienced a bit of it after I married Wayne. Good people, but curious as hell.”

She called to her two helpers, telling them Jack had coffee for them. That cleared the zone briefly for Darcy, who set her equipment down, pulled on her gloves, made sure her loupe was in her pocket along with some evidence bags and started to walk through the grid laid out by the firefighters.

She squatted often, examining the contents of a bag more closely and checking the ground beneath it. Once, she lifted her head and sniffed the air. It still contained the faintest tang of fuel oil after nearly two days. It must have soaked the ground.

She added that tidbit to her increasing list of tidbits. She needed to find out what kind of fuel it was, because she needed to know its burn characteristics but also because she needed to know why she could still smell it. Fuel oil evaporated quickly if it didn’t burn. It was the benzenes and xylenes that made up the gasoline that created most of the familiar smell. Those evaporated relatively quickly, so a lot must have leaked out of that bomb without burning at any point.