Max watched them go, then flicked his eyes back to her. “I know you think I’m trying to tell you what to do,” he said softly, leaning in close to keep their conversation private. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Allie shivered at the intensity of his voice, overcome with memories of other emotion-packed moments shared between them. Of promises made and vows exchanged. Her heart ached at once for all they’d lost. Her. Max. And their son.
“Both targets have been public locations,” Max continued, dragging her mind back to reality. “Just like the mall. I’d feel better if you were home with Max. More so if you both left the city until I find this guy and haul him in.”
She sighed. “I’m staying right here, and Max and I aren’t leaving town. But I thought of something this morning I wanted to run by you. It’s probably nothing, but I know you think everything is something, and you’re usually right.”
He smiled.
She shook her head, feeling a senseless heat rise in her cheeks. How she’d missed that smile.
Allie relayed her story about the late-night trip to the drugstore and apologized for her inability to talk or think straight when he’d called. Then she got to the detail that had been haunting her all morning.
“I was stopped at the light on Burns and Hughes when the bomb went off at Burger Mania. I had a clear view of the building, but I was too far away to make out anything specific or useful. The blast woke Max Jr.” She sighed, exhaustion tugging at her once more. “It was scary and more than a little surreal. I just sat there when the light changed. I was the only car on the street, and it took a minute to pull my addled thoughts together. At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. Then I remembered the news story about the realty office, and I realized someone had set off a bomb. I tried to quiet Max Jr. I shushed and sang. I pulled ahead when I noticed the light was green. Then I saw this man on the sidewalk. He just stared at me as I drove past. There was something in his expression. I thought it was shock. Maybe he was a witness, like me.” She bit her lip, wondering if her constant internal desire to be useful was planting ideas where there were no grounds.
Max shifted, crossing his arms and rubbing his chin with long, steady fingers. “You think he could’ve been the bomber.”
She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You got a good look at him?”
Allie nodded. She’d seen the man’s face constantly in her mind since she woke this morning.
“You can describe him?”
Another nod. “Even if he was just a witness, he was closer to the building than I was when the blast happened. He was outside instead of in a car, and he wasn’t distracted by a miserable little boy. He could have vital information either way.”
Max worked his jaw, clenching and releasing the muscles. “I’ll tell the team and local PD. You should meet with a sketch artist as soon as possible. Until then, what can you tell me about him? I can pass that on, as well.”
Allie brought the stranger’s image easily back to mind. “He was about five foot ten. Late thirties. Unkempt hair, too long for the cut. He had a beard, maybe two weeks’ worth. And he wore one of those shapeless, hip-length coats.” She touched her hips as a visual. “It was black with big rectangular pockets on each side of the zipper in front. And I could see the wool or fleece lining around the collar and inside the hood. Pale gray or dirty white. I don’t know.”
“That’s good. All of that helps. A sketch artist will bring it to life, but this will get us started,” Max said. “I’m going to head over to the station. I’ll pass this information on when I meet with the team. Think about that condo in Traverse City.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting the sensation of infinite loss. “Go on,” she said as warmly as possible and forcing a smile. “Get out of here and catch this guy. Then neither of us will have to worry anymore.”
Without thinking, she rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his stubble-covered cheek. Her hand rested briefly on his sculpted chest, and his heart beat steadily against her palm.
Max’s hand covered hers as she rocked back onto her heels, capturing her fingers against his shirt. The intensity in his gaze was enough to double her heart rate and buckle her knees. The heat in his touch, the contrast of his large hand holding her smaller one. She shivered.
“Can I come over tonight?” he asked, his voice deep and low.
Allie’s jaw sank open. She wanted to say, Yes! And No! And Yippee! But only a little squeak sound came out.
“I’d like to see Max Jr.,” he clarified. “If that’s okay with you.”
Her hearty exhalation turned to soft laughter. “Of course.” He wanted to see their son. Like a good father would. And Max was an excellent father, even with the distance she’d put between them when she’d moved closer to her parents.
She wiggled her hand free from his grip, then stuffed her tingling fingers into her pocket. “You’re welcome anytime, Max.”
He nodded, a fresh smile blooming on his ridiculously attractive face. “All right. I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
And she hoped, naively, that this time he might really show up.
CHAPTER THREE
Max left the mall with hope and a headache. Hope, because Allie’s unexpected information might lead to a quick arrest and save the city from further bombings. A headache, because he still wanted her to take Max Jr. and leave town until the bomber was under arrest. Max had known better than to think he could change Allie’s mind on the spot, but he’d had to try. That was one of their fundamental differences. He always erred on the side of caution, and she always assumed he was overreacting. Which he wasn’t.
Allie thought she was the levelheaded one. She never rushed to take shelter from storms or hurried to merge with traffic when her lane ended in a mile. Why? She still had a mile. She wasn’t hasty or rash, and she loved telling him to relax. She always thought there was more time. Ironically, Max had thought there was still time to save their marriage, and he’d been wrong.
He checked the clock on his dashboard as he made his way across town to the Grand Rapids Police Department. He should’ve stayed at the mall a little longer, pushed harder for her to take his advice. He should have insisted. Or begged. Whatever it took, because now he was running late and heavily distracted.
It hadn’t helped that she’d looked so damn good. Her fuzzy sweater clung in all the right places and so had her nicely fitting jeans. She’d looked soft and smelled like all his best memories. The deep green of her top had made her hazel eyes glow, and he’d imagined running his fingers through the soft blond curls tumbling over her shoulders. The fantasies had gotten more specific the closer he got to her, making it impossible to argue properly. He’d been lost in her stare, wanting to say everything he’d never been able to say before and wondering what she thought of him now. Did she still see him as the broken and emotionally unavailable fool who’d let her and Max Jr. down?
And what had caused the fantastic blush that had spread across her cheeks before he left? He’d asked to stop by and see Max Jr., but she’d clearly been thinking of something else. Did it have anything to do with him?
He could count that as one more thing guaranteed to circle his brain until he saw her again. Allie might’ve divorced him eight months ago, but she’d surely still be the death of him. He was lucky he hadn’t crashed his SUV just thinking about her in that damn sweater.
Max hit his turn signal with a groan, then slid into an open space at the GRPD lot.
The Grand Rapids Police Department was located in a squat but sprawling one-story facility on the edge of town. It was nondescript, without bells or whistles. Just a big sign and a whole lot of traditional black-and-white cruisers out front. He entered through the main doors and introduced himself at the desk inside. The female officer gave him an appreciative once-over as she pointed him in the right directi
on.
“Thank you.” He made his way through the mix of uniformed officers and others in suits or plain clothes. The familiar white noise was a comfort, and he felt his muscles begin to unwind. Another reason Allie had left him. Sometimes work felt more like home than his home. How could anyone blame him? He’d been serving nearly half the years he’d been alive. First with the military, then with the TCD. Somewhere along the line he’d forgotten how to be present in an off-the-clock moment, and it had cost him.
He spotted Axel and Carly outside an open doorway and knew he’d found the right place. He’d passed all his team members’ vehicles on his way in and could only hope they weren’t waiting for him to begin.
“Hey,” Axel said, lifting a logoed disposable cup in greeting. “You made it.”
Max nodded at his buddy, then at Carly, the team’s biological warfare specialist with her personalized travel mug. “Hope I’m not holding things up.”
“No,” Carly assured him, a warm smile on her face. “We’re waiting for Rihanna and the local law-enforcement representatives. I’m loitering out here to avoid sitting again after that drive.”
“Same,” Axel said, watching Max with trained eyes. “No luck with Allie, I guess?”
“Not in the way I’d hoped, but she had some interesting information I think we should look into a little further.” He relayed the details of the man on the street outside Burger Mania just after the blast.
Axel jotted the information down, then excused himself and headed for the closed door at the end of the hallway, marked Chief Drees.
Max slipped into the conference room, ready to get the investigation started. It was time to get his head in the game. Find the bomber. Haul him in. Then it wouldn’t matter if Allie and Max Jr. wanted to live full-time at the mall or any other public place.
He slowed his steps to examine the unfamiliar space and seating options. The area was roughly half the size and thirty times the age of the team’s sleek high-tech boardroom back in Traverse City. The conference table and chairs were easily older than Max, and in lieu of a giant SMART board, an old-fashioned projector screen had been pulled down from a roll overhead and secured to a marker tray by a string.
Max took the open seat across from Aria and Selena, both of whom were engrossed with their phones, likely reviewing the materials Opaline had provided earlier. Max had already committed the pertinent details to memory. There wasn’t much so far, and he was waiting for her to work her magic and send more information soon.
Axel and Carly entered a moment later with the TCD liaison, Rihanna Clark, and a trio of local lawmen on their heels.
“Good morning. Again,” Rihanna said with a grin. “I’m glad to see everyone made it safely. I’m going to jump right in with introductions so you can get to work.” She outstretched a palm toward the men who’d filed in beside her. “These are the faces you’ll want to look for if you need anything while you’re here. Grand Rapids police chief Martin Drees, Detective Isaac Fohl and Sergeant Jim Sims, bomb squad.”
Each man nodded and forced a smile at the sound of his name.
Rihanna then turned to the table. “And here we have the FBI’s Traverse City Tactical Crime Division. Our supervisory agent is Axel Morrow.” She lifted a palm in Axel’s direction. “Going around the table from there we have Special Agent Aria Calletti, Special Agent Dr. Carly Welsh, Special Agent Selena Lopez and Special Agent Max McRay. Max is our explosives expert, and he’ll be taking point on this case.”
“Thank you,” the police chief said, spending a moment to look each of the TCD members in the eyes. His white hair and face full of wrinkles suggested he was somewhere near Max’s dad’s age. The tightness around his eyes and mouth spoke of stress, fatigue and determination. He was a man who cared about people, his city and his job. “We appreciate you coming here and getting involved like this. We’ve never faced a serial bomber, and our citizens are on edge. The phones haven’t stopped ringing since we announced the second explosion this morning. A number of school districts have reported record low attendance. Parents don’t want to send their kids in case this nut goes for one of our schools next. I need to give the people of Grand Rapids some assurance of safety. And soon, or we’ll have widespread panic on our hands.”
Axel leaned forward, hands clasped on the table before him. “We understand, Chief Drees, and we’ll do all we can to wrap this up quickly. Our goal is to bring the bomber in without any further incidents. Do you have any new leads or information available?”
“No.” The chief shook his head, visibly deflated. “Aside from what you told me a few moments ago, none.”
Axel turned to the team and shared the details Allie had given Max.
Chief Drees nodded along. “I’ve put in a call to our best sketch artist. I hope to have the image in all of your hands by this time tomorrow, if not before.”
“That’s good,” Axel said. “Until then, we’ve got our best tech working hard on this case, as well, and I’m certain she’ll have more for us to go on soon.” His smile spread to the other team members at the mention of Opaline. He was right to praise her. Opaline was the queen of finding needles in haystacks, and when she was looking for someone, they couldn’t hide.
The chief gave an appreciative nod, then turned to the doorway, where a uniformed officer had arrived with a clipboard and expectant expression.
The chief lifted a hand to the room, nodded, then took his leave, exiting the room with the waiting officer.
Detective Fohl pulled out a chair and had a seat at the table.
Sergeant Sims, the local bomb-squad leader, folded his arms but remained standing, his expression grim. “Good morning.” Sergeant Sims was young and visibly exhausted. From the looks of him, Max would guess he probably hadn’t slept more than a few hours since the first bomb blast.
The team returned the greeting in near unison.
Sims pushed a handful of shaggy brown hair off his forehead, and it sprang immediately back. His clothes were rumpled and his posture slack. “There’s nothing new to report on the bomb front. We haven’t been able to identify anything significant about the devices. Standard pressure-cooker style. Nothing unique or telling. No special signature to set the bomber’s works apart. Nothing to trace back to the maker.” He rubbed his eyes hard with one hand, then turned to his counterpart. “Detective Fohl has a little more for you.”
The detective opened a manila folder and passed a stack of papers around. “This is a compilation of all the victims’ names so far. Casualties first, then the injured. They’re sorted further by the blast location.” He removed a second stack of papers and circulated them around, as well. “These are the lists of all current employees for both businesses, as well as the names of people who were fired from either in the last six months.”
Axel took one of each paper, then handed them along. “We’ll want to push that back to a year for good measure.” He raised his eyes to Rihanna, who nodded.
“I’ll reach out to the businesses,” she said, tapping her thumbs against her phone screen. “I’ll get an updated list to you within the hour.”
“Thanks,” Axel said, before returning his attention to the detective. “Is there anyone with a grudge against one or more of the victims?”
The older man narrowed his eyes. “Nothing for certain, but I’ve spoken to both businesses about the employees who’ve left or been let go.” He inclined his head to indicate the papers in Axel’s grip. “There’s been a greater amount of turnover at Burger Mania than at the real-estate office, as you can imagine. So we started looking into employees who left the real-estate office first. There were only three. Two were fired. One of those is currently in the hospital, recovering from a surgery. The other moved south and began a new career in landscaping. The last guy left of his own volition, but he did it with a stink, made a big scene. And as far as we can tell, he doesn’t appear to have
taken another job since.”
Aria cocked her head. “Two solid alibis and one wild card,” she said, voicing Max’s thoughts.
Selena sighed dramatically, her smile widening. “We love a wild card.” She slid her fingertip over the page before her, presumably down the short list of former employee names. “Which one is unaccounted for?”
The detective shifted forward, gaze intense. “Fritz O’Lear, and we haven’t been able to reach him by phone for comment.”
“What do we know about him so far?” Max asked, his mind already running over the most well-known American bombers. Kaczynski, McVeigh, Helder, Rudolph, Metesky. All average. All white males. Varied ages.
“Not much,” the detective admitted. “Caucasian. Male. Midthirties. Unmarried. No kids. No previous record. And apparently, currently unemployed.”
Max stood, drawing the group’s attention. He was ready to get out there and get started, and he knew exactly where to go. “Got an address on Mr. O’Lear?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Max climbed into the passenger side of Axel’s official, TCD-issued SUV, the heat of fresh purpose burning away January’s bitter cold. The sooner this bomber was stopped, the sooner Max’s family and this town would be safe, and he had a gut feeling about this lead.
He hadn’t been surprised to see Axel on his feet in the conference room a bare heartbeat after himself. He and Axel had always been connected that way, always on the same wavelength, and more often than not, they shared the same instinctive responses.
Axel typed O’Lear’s address into the dashboard GPS, then pumped up the heat and adjusted the vents. “First thoughts on this guy?” he asked, shifting smoothly into Reverse and heading away from the police department.
Max released a heavy breath and a plume of white fog blew into the air before him. He rubbed a palm against his thigh. “A recently disgruntled guy, who left his job in a huff and hasn’t found new work after months of unemployment? I don’t like it. And I really don’t like that he’s been unreachable so far. Could be irrelevant, but—”
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