Conard County Revenge

“Did you do all this?” she asked as he closed the door behind her.

“I bought it for a song and gutted it. It was bad, but the basic bones were sound.”

“Beautiful work,” she remarked, touching the handrail on the staircase, then turning to admire the fine-looking wainscoting in white oak.

“Let’s go to the kitchen. I didn’t get my usual coffee from Maude and I can make you a latte if you want.”

The kitchen was as up-to-date as any she’d seen. “Let me guess, you made the cabinets, too.”

He nodded while he tossed his jacket over a chair and turned to the coffee maker. “Old houses didn’t have a lot of cabinetry. I built more than I need, but I enjoy the work so I just kept going.”

“Well, it’s gorgeous,” she told him frankly. Then she spied the kitchen table and pointed to it. “You made that, too?”

“Yeah,” he said offhandedly.

“You sure keep busy, and you do wonderful work.”

He smiled as he switched the coffee maker on and faced her. “It’s nice to be able to do what I love. Grab a seat. Did you want that latte?”

“Regular will be fine. Thanks for the offer.”

He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms and studied her. “You’ve got an uneasy feeling with little to pin it on.”

“Very good, Dr. Freud.”

A snort escaped him. “I don’t think that way. No Oedipus complexes for me. No, it was pretty obvious from what you said. No kudos for me. So tell me.”

“That’s the thing,” she admitted. “I want to pick your brain about the psychology of the bomber, because that’s not my area. How the bomb was built, yes. That’s what I do. But since I don’t have a whole team out here, what with everyone so busy on other cases...” She paused. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention since you left the bureau, but violence is on the rise. The kind of violence ATF deals with. Guns. Bombs. I don’t know whether it’s just a growing population or a genuine change going on.”

“Change,” he said succinctly. “People are getting bolder about expressing themselves in deadly ways. Just as hate crimes are on the rise. I’d like to be able to point to one thing as the causative agent, but I think it’s a whole bunch of things, so I’m not going to trot out the list. It is what it is, and it’s getting worse. That’s all we need to know right now.”

“Bad enough that’s it’s happening,” she agreed. “There are probably a whole lot of different motives anyway. Not one size fits all.”

“No.” He turned and pulled out two mugs from a cupboard. “Black, milk, sugar?”

“Black’s fine, thanks.”

He put the mugs on the table and joined her. Facing each other once again as they had at the diner. “So the excess gasoline is bothering you?”

“Yes, it is,” she acknowledged. “Of course, the spill could have been a deliberate attempt to spread any fire in the hopes that evidence would be destroyed.”

“Maybe.” He frowned, leaning back and cradling his mug in both hands.

“The thing is, the concussive force of a bomb often snuffs any fire in its immediate vicinity, like blowing out a candle. You need debris that’s hot enough to start a fire when the concussion passes or it lands somewhere. Now it happens all the time, but not every time, that we get extensive fire away from the blast. Anyway, the smell of that gasoline was obviously too close. It didn’t burn.”

“Or too far away, which doesn’t seem likely given the hole in the side of the building. So you’re thinking this was a mistake of some kind?”

“Possibly.” She sipped coffee, running bits and pieces through her mind, trying to fit them together. She’d know more tomorrow or the next day as she examined the debris and received evaluations from the field office. “Our bomber could always stop with this one. Maybe it said all he wanted to say. On the other hand, what if this was a trial run? He’d be learning nearly as much as I am.”

Then she leaned forward, her full attention on him. “Ponder something for me, Alex. What would make that corner of the school a better target than any other? Assuming it wasn’t just someone with a—what did you call it?—a hatred of band saws.”

He set his mug on the table and his gaze grew distant as he thought. She let him be. He was coming at this from a totally different perspective than she could: the psychology.

“Not easy to see back there at night from the street. Pretty secluded, actually.”

“No security lights?”

“We’ve never needed them. Some in the front of the school near the entrance, but back there it’s not a good place to break in regardless.”

“No garage doors?”

“You saw the only two. They’re on the shop wing, facing the street. The auto shop is up there on that end of the building. The back...that’s all wood and metalworking. If we need to bring in something large, it’s delivered out front to the garage doors. Access between the work areas is good, but...” He shook his head. “If I wanted to break in to steal something, that would be the place, except that the risk of being spied by a patrol is high. But bombing? The back, definitely.”

She nodded. She’d already seen what he meant. It was a wonder the damage hadn’t spread farther. “Okay. Why not someplace else?”

“Almost anyplace else would get you a classroom. The interior doors are all fire doors and locked. So if you want to get into the building, a classroom wouldn’t be the best route. If all you want to do is destroy something, you’d get thirty desks and a whiteboard.” He paused.

“The administrative offices are in the center. Hard to get to except from inside. The gym...well, you saw for yourself. It would have made a good target on the back side, but there are fire doors back there. I don’t know if they’d cause a problem. Reasons this guy would pick my corner? No really good ones other than what I’ve said.”

Now he rubbed his chin. “There had to be a reason other than not being spotted if all you want to do is bomb something. Why not blow out a classroom? Or try the gym...” He paused. “Unless my corner of the school resembled another target...”

Their eyes locked. Darcy’s heart began to race like a horse in a steeplechase. “I was afraid that you might say something like that,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I was trying to avoid that idea.”

For a long time, neither of them said a word, lost in their own lines of thought. Alex rose once to freshen their coffee, and part of Darcy’s mind once again noted how much he looked like a Viking, except that he wasn’t shaggy at all. He ought to grow his hair out.

Her mind snapped back. She had to cut this out. Mooning over the shop teacher was well outside the parameters of anything she was here to do.

She was looking at what might be the first act of a serial bomber. No rhyme or reason, evidently, but a person who’d successfully created an ANFO bomb could not be ignored, even if he’d messed up and spilled fuel oil at the site.

“You need a break,” he said, surprising her. “I learned the hard way that thinking about something else for a while not only refreshed me, but allowed my subconscious to churn things. Have you thought about anything but this bomb since you got here?”

You. But she wasn’t going to admit that. “Yeah, a bit. I pay attention to other things but it keeps pulling me back. Your young friend Jack has been hanging around, too.”

His face darkened. “Darcy...”

“You know the profile, Alex. Do you really need me to remind you? Excessive interest in the scene along with a desire to join the bureau. Those two things together... Well, you tell me how else Jackson Castor could get to watch ATF in action. He also said he didn’t think he’d get to college, so any federal agency is going to remain a pipe dream for him. He’s walking around wearing warning flags.”

Alex’s expression remained grim, but he didn’t argue with her. Like it or not, he knew as well as she that Jack’s behavior was putting him in the crosshairs. He wouldn’t be convicted based on it, but he had to be watched and even investigated.

But what could you investigate with a kid that age? His whereabouts early on a Sunday morning? Whether he had the tools at home to put something like this together? An extraordinary interest in chemistry, maybe?

Darcy pushed her coffee away. “Sorry I’m upsetting you.”

“No, you’re being honest.” Some of the stoniness left his face. “I don’t like it, but I’m not dismissing it, okay?”

“Fair enough. You being his teacher and all, you can probably clear him easier than I could.”

Finally, the stone chipped away and he smiled again. “Yes, I could. And you don’t have to look so unhappy for mentioning it. It’s a legitimate point, and much as I like that young man, I’ve been aware of the same flags you mentioned. I’m not going to overlook them.”

She returned his smile then, inexplicably relieved. She hardly knew the man, so why care what he thought of her? “And we still have the issue of whether this was a trial run.”

He nodded. “That we do. Unfortunately we can’t know unless there’s another one.”

“I hope there’s not,” she said honestly. “It might make it easier to find the perp, but I’d rather not see it happen. Not at all.”

Just then Darcy’s cell phone began to vibrate in the breast pocket of her overalls. She pulled it out and answered the call.

“Agent Eccles, this is the sheriff’s office. We’ve picked up an intruder in the school gymnasium. Do you want us to keep him here or take him in for questioning?”

Her gaze leaped to Alex’s face. “Intruder,” she said. “Any ID?” she asked the deputy.

“Jackson Castor.”

* * *

Alex rode along with her in her black truck. He kept drumming his fingers on the window ledge, and his tension was almost palpable. He didn’t say anything, but Darcy had a good idea what he was thinking. Jackson. The kid he’d defended. What the hell was he doing poking around the evidence they had sequestered in the gym?

She was wondering exactly the same thing herself. Could they have really caught the bomber this easily? Experience had taught her that it wasn’t always difficult, and dealing with a kid Jackson’s age might make it a whole lot easier.

But strangely enough she didn’t want it to be Jack, even though she’d refused to let herself or Alex give the young man a pass. Warning flags. He was wearing them all.

She drove into the parking lot near the gymnasium end of the school. Several police cars were there now, lights swirling. “Jackson got himself into a mess,” she remarked as she parked and turned off the ignition.

“Sadly” was all Alex said. She glanced at him. Night had begun to deepen but the glow from the dashboard illuminated his face. His game face, she thought. Hard as granite. She wouldn’t have wanted to sit across an interrogation table from him right then.

They climbed out. Automatically Darcy carried her small evidence kit, which contained a digital recorder, among other smaller tools of investigation. She discovered she was hoping Jackson Castor had a really good explanation for this trespass.

She displayed her credentials to a deputy she didn’t know and was waved on through. Inside, two deputies sat on the bleachers to either side of a very chastened-looking Jack.

“Hey, Beau,” Alex said. “Hi, Cadell.”

The middle-aged deputy whose name tag said he was Sergeant Beauregard stood. “Lots of excuses, no real answers,” he said. “Jackson Castor. Age seventeen. But I guess you know him, Alex.”

“That I do. Is it all right if Agent Eccles and I question him ourselves?”

Beau nodded. “That’s why I called before I took him in. Hate to mess up a young idiot’s life unnecessarily.” He nodded to Darcy. “Agent. You need anything, let me know.”

“I certainly will, Sergeant Beauregard.”

“Just Beau. Nobody calls me anything else except my wife.”

“What does she call you?”

He flashed a grin. “Mostly nice things.” He and the other deputy, Cadell Marcus, moved around the edge of the gym.

Which left Darcy and Alex with a shamefaced Jack.

“Well?” Alex asked.

Darcy let him take the lead willingly at this point. Since he knew Jack, he might get further. Right now her insides felt as tight as an overwound spring.

Jack looked down. “I was curious. I saw all the stuff being moved, and I wanted to see how it was all laid out. How it works. I should have known there’d be a guard.”

Well, thought Darcy, that sounded naive enough to be believable. “How’d you get in?”

“I work as a trainer for the basketball team. I have keys.”

That caught her attention instantly. Forgetting that she wanted to look intimidating, she sat down beside Jack. “Keys, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you the trainer?”

“’Cause I’m not good enough to be on the team, but being the trainer gets me to all the away games for free.” He shrugged. “I was stupid, huh?”

“You could say that,” Alex replied, still standing, still looking intimidating.

“I just wanted to know.” Jack looked up. “I’ll never get to do this for real. Nobody will talk to me because I’m just a civilian. This’ll probably be my only chance to get up close to the ATF.” He flushed. “Darn, I sound like a girl with a crush.”

A remarkably astute observation, Darcy thought. She sighed. “How much do you know about what I do, Jack?”

“What I can read online.”

“Okay. Have you ever read what we look for around the scene in terms of people?”

“Profiles, you mean?” He glanced up at Alex as if seeking confirmation. “Oh, man. It’s me, isn’t it?”

“You how?” Darcy asked.

“Hanging around, showing too much interest, wanting to be in ATF and then this.” The young man jumped up. “But I didn’t do it!”

“I’m afraid,” said Alex heavily, “that Agent Eccles is now going to have to check you out. Thoroughly. Sorry, Jack, but even I can’t explain this away.”

Jack paced a few steps, then clenched his fists and closed his eyes. “Damn, I didn’t even think about that. I was just curious.”

“Maybe so,” said Darcy. “Did you notice anyone else who was interested?”

Jack’s eyes popped open. “I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. Oh, man...”

Darcy wished he’d had a different answer. “Do I need to get a warrant to check out where you live?”

Jack shook his head. “Not for me. Come look. I’ll just tell my parents, I don’t think they’ll object because they won’t want me to be under suspicion. You can look at anything you want. When?”

“Now,” said Darcy, standing. “Sergeant Beauregard?”

“Yes, ma’am?” He came striding over.

“We’re going to need a few deputies to help us out. We need to investigate the Castor homestead.”

“How many?”

Darcy looked at Alex. “Are you familiar with the Castor place?”

“Been there several times.”

“Big?”

“I’d bring at least six deputies.”

She nodded and looked at Beauregard. “Six, maybe a couple more.”

“You got it. It might take an hour to pull it together.”

“That’s fine.” She returned her attention to Jack. “You sit right here, young man. Turn your phone over to Deputy Marcus. No calls until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“One more thing.” A small flicker of anger was trying to get started. “Did you touch anything in here?”

Jack shook his head. “I wouldn’t have anyway, but the deputies were already in here.”

She looked at Marcus. “He’s yours. I need to step outside.”

Marcus nodded and pressed Jack back down onto the bench.

* * *

Alex decided to accompany Darcy outside. She’d been very controlled with Jack, which he appreciated professionally, but he wondered what she was thinking. He knew what he was thinking: Jack was up to his neck in trouble now, although he still didn’t honestly believe his student had a role in the bombing. But it sure didn’t look good, and it couldn’t be ignored.

Outside, Darcy thrust her hands into the side pockets of her overalls. “Keys?” She repeated. “He had keys? He could have got into anything. Why didn’t everyone have to turn them in as soon as the bombing happened? I never thought just anyone had access to that building.” She kicked the earth. “Damn, I should have verified that.”

“It didn’t occur to me, either,” he said reassuringly. “I just assumed that would have been one of the first things the police did when sealing the scene.”

“I guess they never thought the entire building could be the scene.”

“I need to find out who was the scene commander. Someone needs a talking-to.”

“Probably a simple oversight,” she said grimly. “Otherwise everyone did a spectacular job. I shouldn’t be so angry. Besides, they clearly had a good guard set on the gymnasium, and there are still guys watching the blast area both inside and outside. Sorry.” Then again, she said disbelievingly, “Keys?”

“Sometimes the small oversights can really get to you.”

“And cause huge problems.”

He waited, admiring her restraint. He wouldn’t have blamed her for giving in to at least a small explosion of ire. She was right, the entire school should have been locked down, but he wasn’t accustomed to actually working crime scenes of any kind, and it had never crossed his mind that maybe it wasn’t a good thing that administrators were still able to get to their offices. After all, he’d gone in and asked for use of the tarps and the gym.

Darcy had probably thought he’d passed some kind of gatekeeper to do that. Instead he’d walked in as easily as if he were going to teach a class. Admittedly, there’d been a deputy at the door, but he hadn’t been restricted.

But maybe that’s because the deputies keeping watch pretty much knew everyone who should be able to access the school. Maybe they figured that going to talk to someone in administration was a necessary access.

It had been, but it shouldn’t have been so easy.

“I wonder how contaminated the scene is now,” Darcy said quietly. “My fault. I should have noticed when you led me inside to show me the wall of the shop. It should have occurred to me that I needed to check if there was a lockdown on the building.”

“Why would you imagine there wasn’t? First, that end of the building was locked down. Remember? Tape and two deputies. It’s not like the inside of the building was crawling with gawkers. Besides, we were really concerned about the structural integrity. We didn’t want anyone in there unnecessarily. So the lockdown wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough.”

“Until tonight.”

Well, yeah, he thought. Until tonight.

She faced him. “You need to know something. I’ve worked on a number of these cases but I’ve never been the lead on one. Now I’m out here on my own and I just made a potentially critical error. I wonder how many others I’ll make.”

Man, that must have been hard for her to say. She hardly knew him. He hesitated, wishing he dared to clasp her shoulder reassuringly but concerned about his roiled up feelings. Touching this woman might remind him of just how desirable he found her. Some lines were better not crossed.

He spoke, determined to keep this professional. “I don’t think you’ve made a critical error. Part of what you’re dealing with here is that darn near everyone knows everyone else. Maybe we aren’t being as careful as we should be since everyone is familiar, but we ought to be more cautious. Anyway, I don’t think you made any unjustified assumptions. I think we were a little more lax than you imagined. And I doubt there was a critical error, certainly not on your part.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” She looked out over the area away from the school.

“I did want to ask you, though. No criticism intended. But does the ATF usually send only one agent?”

“Depends on what’s going on, what local resources are available and how many we have tied up. We don’t have any slack right now. I was pulled off another case to come here. I guess everyone was thinking it was probably some kind of accident.”

“Is ANFO ever an accident?”

She surprised him. “Believe it or not, it does happen. It’s like anything else. A bomb is next to impossible to make deliberately, then a factory worker inadvertently spills something while smoking an illicit cigarette and kaboom.” She sighed. “You’ve read about it in the papers. Usually involving a chemical plant. So yeah, it happens, and that’s kind of what I was expecting to find here, but I’m not going to make that assumption without proof. And now that I’m here, I’m pretty sure this was deliberate, however sloppy.”

He nodded. “Tonight I wish I hadn’t quit smoking.”

That brought her face around to eye him. “You used to smoke?”

“Yeah, in college. I quit, obviously, but right now I wish I hadn’t.”

“I get you.” Then she shrugged. “Okay, so we go out to the Castor place, upset his family, going over every square inch inside and out, and hopefully by tomorrow night we’ve cleared him. I’m going to take one extended look out there, turn it over to the locals, then come back here. I need to go into that gym and start looking for any sign of a detonator. That might be our only clue to the perp. Everything else is off-the-shelf. Your sheriff hasn’t found record of a detonator being sold?”

“I’m sure he has. We’ve got all kinds of uses for them in this state. Checking them out is going to take time, especially when we don’t know exactly what we’re looking for. But if he finds anything suspicious, you’ll be the first to know. Not me.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her eyes. “Okay. I need to make a quick sweep through the Castor homestead. Look for things that could have been used to make this bomb.”

“You’ll find them. Bags of fertilizer. Fuel for tractors. Pieces of pipe for repairs.”

She eyed him again. “Just about any ranch around here, right?”

He nodded, hating how tired she suddenly looked.

“Well, we’ve got to keep our eyes out for any indication that he might have been able to measure quantities carefully. That’ll be the important thing. He might have the ingredients, but putting them together takes real care to make a bomb.”

Alex agreed. “Unless it’s a chemical plant.”

He was happy to hear a small laugh escape her. “Yeah,” she said. “But this was a reasonably controlled and directed blast. Not an accident. Sorry, Alex.”

That surprised him. “I didn’t think it was an accident. I just don’t think it’s one of my students.”

She nodded. “And we’re about to eliminate one of them. I hope.”

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