by David Archer
“That was pretty dumb,” Pennington said. “I was about to call in the bomb squad when I saw what you were doing. You should have let them handle it.”
Dex shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You know, we thought he wired it into her ignition system, and that it was starting the car that set it off, right? Well, we were half right. It doesn’t have any connection to the car itself, but there’s a microphone sticking out, so it’s using a sound activation switch. It probably has to pick up a noise that’s pretty close to it, but that’s why I didn’t want you yelling. If she had gotten in the car and shut the door, the sound of the door slamming would probably have set it off. If not, the sound of the engine starting certainly would.”
“But you still could have blown yourself up trying to take it off,” Pennington said. “Why did you do that?”
“Because somebody around here would have made a noise at some point,” Dex said. “I didn’t want shrapnel blowing all over the people who just survived the last bomb. Besides, when I looked at it the first time, I could tell it was wrapped up in cloth and just stuck in between the floorboard and the transmission. The cloth was probably to keep it from making any sound while he put it in place, but I figured it would work in reverse, too.” He grinned. “It did.”
Pennington looked at him for a moment, then shook his head. He had his phone in his hand and used it to call the bomb squad immediately. As soon as he did that, he told several of the uniformed officers who were still present to make sure nobody went near that spot.
The bomb squad got there fifteen minutes later, driving a big truck with what looked like a water tank on the back of it. Two men dressed in some kind of armor got out and walked carefully toward where Dex had put the bomb, and then they knelt down and stared at it for several minutes.
One of them got up and walked away, and the other one picked up the bomb very carefully. The first guy went to the back of the truck and opened a round door in the tank, and I saw that it was extremely thick, like a bank vault door. The second man brought the bomb up and carefully put it inside, and then they closed the door gently and quietly. They turned the locking wheel that secured the door, and then moved away and started taking off their armor.
Pennington walked up to them, so Dex and I followed. “What do you think?” Pennington asked.
One of the men looked at him and grinned. “Whoever told you it was sound-activated was right,” he said. “Man, you want to feel your butt pucker up, you just walk fifty feet carrying one of those. I hadn’t made it three steps before I felt like I had to sneeze.”
Pennington just stared at him for a second, then shook his head. “Is it safe now?”
“Well, yes and no. Inside that blast tank, it can’t do a whole lot of damage. I don’t think there’s any way we can disarm it, though. We’re gonna have to set it off.”
“How are you going to do that?” Dex asked.
The guy grinned at him and winked, then bent down and picked up a rock about the size of a golf ball. He reared back, wound up like a picture on the mound, then threw the rock as hard as he could at the tank.
There was a loud WHOOMPH! The truck seemed to rock on its wheels for a moment, and there was a loud series of whistling noises. The officer explained that the whistling came from narrow holes that allowed the pressure from the explosion to escape under control, rather than all at once.
“Good Lord,” Pennington said. “Just how powerful do you think that was?”
The other bomb squad officer shrugged. “Not really all that big,” he said. “Maybe like a stick of dynamite, maybe even a little less. Would’ve been enough to blow up a car, definitely would’ve killed anybody inside the car.”
I swallowed hard and promised myself I would never leave my phone in my purse again. That baby was staying with me forever, after that.
I had sent the video from my phone directly to Pennington, and he had already sent it back to someone at the station. Every officer in the city was going to get a copy of the frame that showed the bomber’s face, and they would be showing it to every snitch and informer they had, as well.
“Somebody out there knows this guy,” Pennington said. “Maybe this will get someone to come forward.”
I looked at him for a moment. “I think I know another way to help,” I said. “Put out the word that there’s a twenty-five thousand dollar reward for this guy’s arrest. I’ll pay the money.”
Pennington looked at me, his eyebrows trying to crawl over his scalp. “Twenty-five grand? Are you serious?”
“Damn right I am,” I said. “Spread the word. Hell, hold a press conference. I don’t want you to use my name, but I’ll be happy to pay it if we get this bastard.”
There were a dozen reporters on the scene at that moment, including five different TV news crews. Pennington asked me one more time if I was serious, then started walking toward where the uniformed officers were keeping the reporters corralled.
“Hey, all of you, listen up,” he yelled, and they hurried to shove their microphones in front of his face. “I just received a phone call. We’re going to be giving all of you a photograph of the man we believe is behind this bombing and the one a couple days ago. We’re hoping you’ll publicize that photo, but also I need to announce that an anonymous donor has posted a twenty-five thousand dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of this man.”
He spent the next fifteen minutes answering questions the best he could, refusing a dozen times to say who was putting up the reward. Dex stood beside me with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I felt like I was finally doing something right in this case.
Since we had the photo, I didn’t need to go and meet with the police artist. Dex and I got into our cars—I made him crawl under his own and check, just to be safe—and we went home to get cleaned up. Both of us had blood all over us, and I even had it on my face and in my hair, from trying to get hair out of my eyes when my hands were covered in somebody else’s blood.
“I’m taking a shower,” I said. I stripped in the utility room and dropped my clothes right into the washer, then walked naked through the house to the bathroom. I had the water set to the temperature I like and was about to step into the shower when the door opened, and I glanced around to see Dex in the same condition.
“I think there’s a water shortage going on right now,” he said. “We need to conserve.”
I rolled my eye, but I was giggling as I did so. “Works for me,” I said. “I need somebody to wash my back, anyway.”
SIXTEEN
After we got cleaned up, we were both pretty hungry. Neither of us felt like cooking at that moment, so we got into my car and I drove us to Whataburger. We were sitting at a table eating when my phone rang, and I answered it to find Pennington on the line.
“What’s up, Jim?” I asked.
“I just thought you’d like to know,” he said, “that I just got a call from the mayor. The city is matching your twenty-five thousand, so there is now a fifty thousand dollar reward out for the bomber.”
I broke into a smile. “Really? That’s awesome! That ought to get some attention, don’t you think?”
“It should. Around here, most people would sell out their own mother for fifty grand. Anyway, I thought it might brighten your day a little bit. God knows we could all use something to do that.”
“No, what will brighten my day is seeing this piece of crap in handcuffs. Preferably mine.”
“I’ll tell you something,” Pennington said. “I’m not sure I’d be all that surprised if you don’t find a way to beat us to him. Just remember, we want to take him alive if we can. From what I’ve read, you have a tendency to bring them back in a vitally-challenged condition.”
My mouth fell open. “Hey,” I said. “For the record, I only shot Roger McCoy because he was trying to shoot his stepdaughter. And I didn’t mean to kill the other guy, I just figured the pallets would slow him down so I could get away.”
“Geez, can’t you take
a joke? You’re all right, Cassie. I’ll let you know if I come up with anything new.”
I put the phone back into my pocket and told Dex about the mayor matching the reward. We finished eating and refilled our drinks as we left, then drove down to the shop building.
Dex had been busy. While he only had a little bit of time that morning to work, he had most of the trash cleaned up already. We walked around inside the building as he told me about various pieces of equipment he planned to get and where they would go. I listened with a smile, even though I didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about. Okay, well, not all of it, anyway. Even I know what a tire changing machine is.
“I’ve been looking at some cars,” he said. “On Craigslist. I’ve found a couple I’d like to go ahead and get, just so that I got them here to start on. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Do you need some more money to buy them?”
He laughed. “No, that’s not a problem. I just didn’t want to buy them without checking with you first.”
“Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s get one thing straight, right now. I’m the silent partner. What that means is that you make the decisions, and I’m happy with the decisions you make. You don’t have to ask me about anything, you don’t have to check with me first. Dex, I trust you. I trust you completely, in fact, which almost scares me because I never thought I would ever be able to say that to anyone.”
He gave me a sheepish grin. “Okay,” he said. “Look, this is all new to me. I’ve never done anything like this before, being a partner with somebody.”
I opened my eye wide. “Oh, really? I thought we were already partners of another sort. Aren’t we?”
He looked at me, and it seemed like he wanted to say something but was holding back. It suddenly dawned on me that I might have accidentally said the wrong thing.
“Dex, I didn’t exactly mean…”
“Yes,” he said. “We definitely are partners of another sort. I’ll confess that I sometimes wonder just what sort that is, but I never, ever doubt that we’re in this together.”
I hesitated for a couple of seconds. “In what together?”
“Whatever it is that we are in,” he said. “I’m not sure you and I both see it the same way, but I’m pretty certain that neither of us is ready for it to come to an end, am I right?”
“Come to an end? What on Earth would make you bring that up?”
“I didn’t bring it up,” he said, “I said I don’t think either of us would want that. I’m right, right?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. I softened a bit. “Look, Dex, sometimes I get the feeling you want things to, I don’t know, maybe move a little faster in some ways?”
“You ready for honesty?” he asked.
“I don’t ever want anything but honesty from you,” I said. “I couldn’t handle anything else.”
“Okay then, pure honesty. Sometimes I want things to move faster. Sometimes I don’t. And that’s the truth.”
I started to tell him he was confusing, but then it hit me that I could probably say the same thing to him. There were moments when I thought about the possibility of taking things to another level. Every once in a while, I would get this incredible feeling of—this incredible feeling, and I’d entertain the thought of maybe someday making our “partnership” somewhat more official.
Fortunately, sanity would return not long thereafter. I guess there’s always going to be some fear of any permanent commitment, after what happened to me, but I wasn’t quite willing to rule out the possibility completely. I just wasn’t ready for it yet.
“Okay. I can understand that.” I turned away from him and looked around the shop again. “Now, where are you going to get all this equipment?”
“Now, see, that was a really good question. See, I could go out and spend all that money you just put into the bank account on equipment, and then I might actually have to ask for a little more now and then.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” I said, but he held up a hand to tell me he wasn’t finished.
“Have you ever heard of Snap-On? They’re a tool company, and they got these trucks full of tools that come around to your shop. I can buy everything I need from them and make small payments every week, so it doesn’t wipe out working capital all at once. It’ll cost a little more money in the long run, but it’ll make that capital last a long time. By the time the capital is gone, I should be making money here, so making the payments won’t be a problem.”
I nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. Have you called them already?”
He grinned again. “Yep, this morning. Just before I heard the news.”
I turned and walked up to him, put my arms up and wrapped them around his neck, then pulled him down for a kiss. Somehow, I thought I was going to like Dex having his own little business, and the fact that he was just around the corner from my office made it even nicer.
The kiss lingered for a few minutes, and I’m pretty sure we both enjoyed it.
It was almost 3 in the afternoon, and neither of us actually had anything planned. I let him go and stepped back, then looked up at him with a smile.
“So,” I said. “What kind of cars are you looking at buying?”
He pulled out his phone and started showing me pictures. “I’ve found a few that could actually be worth some money, once I get them done,” he said. “Take a look at this. That’s a 1959 Cadillac Series ’62 convertible. Very rare car, nowadays, and they bring serious money whether they’re fully restored or customized. This one,” he said, swiping the screen to produce another picture, “is a 1969 Chevrolet Corvette. And then,” swiping the screen again, “here’s a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air sport coupe. That car is just about an American icon. Properly done, any one of these will bring more than a hundred thousand dollars at one of the big collector car auctions.”
I smiled. “So we’re actually going to make some money on this deal?”
“We better,” he said. “That’s the whole idea.”
I took his phone and was scrolling through the ads, and spotted a car that caught my own attention. “What is this one?”
He laughed. “Oho,” he said, “the lady has an eye for automobiles. That, my dear, is a 1970 Plymouth Cuda. Another rare car that can bring very good money.”
“I like that one,” I said. “Why haven’t you gone ahead and bought any of these cars yet?”
He laughed again. “Babe, you just gave me money to work with this morning,” he said, “and we’ve been a little busy since then. I might see about getting a couple of them tomorrow, just get them here and locked up inside the fence so nobody else buys them.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “This is all your baby, so I’ll let you handle it.”
He looked at me and grinned. “You are way too good to me,” he said, “do you know that?”
My phone chose that moment to ring, and I pulled it out to look at the display. I didn’t know the number, so I put it to my ear.
“Cassie McGraw,” I said.
“Ms. McGraw,” a woman’s voice said, “this is Alexandra Hartwell from KTUL news. Will you comment on the rumor that whoever is setting the bombs around the city is using them to try to hurt you?”
My single eyeball just about jumped out of my skull. “I beg your pardon?” I said. “Can I ask where you heard something like that?”
“Actually, it came from a reliable source inside the Tulsa Police Department, but he’s asked to remain anonymous. Ms. McGraw, if there is a mad bomber running around Tulsa because of you, don’t you think the people of the city have a right to know that?”
“Ms. Hartwell, I don’t think the police would want me commenting on their ongoing investigation. I suggest you speak with them, and try to find someone who would go on record. Maybe you’ll get some real information for a change. Goodbye.”
I cut off the call and looked at Dex, then told him what she had said.
“I think you’d better call Pennington,” he said.<
br />
“Yeah, I think so.” I hit Pennington’s number in my recent calls list and put the phone back to my ear.
“Jim, this is Cassie. I just got a call from Alexander Hartwell from the TV news. She claims somebody at the police department told her that the bombings are all about me.”
“Well, crap,” Pennington said. “If I find out who did it, he’s going to be out of a job. What did you say?”
“I told her she needed to try to find someone at the police department that would be honest with her,” I said. “Somebody who would go on record. According to her, her source wants to remain anonymous.”
“That’s because they don’t want me finding out who it was. The hell of it is, they’ll run it as a story with or without any corroboration from you or us. That could play hell with our investigation.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. “So I had an idea. How about if I actually go ahead and give them the statement? What if I were to hold a press conference and admit this guy is trying to tie me to his bombings, and then dare him to come face-to-face with me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “First off, this guy isn’t going to walk into a trap. He’d know you were trying to bait him, and I don’t think he’d fall for it. On top of that, it would probably give our officers the idea that it was okay to leak information to the press. That’s the last thing we need.”
I frowned. “Okay, it was just a thought. I just wish I could think of some way to track this bastard down.”
“We’ve already got his picture going out on the news,” Pennington said. “All we said is that a hidden security camera managed to catch a photo of him planting a bomb, with no mention of you or any other details. I think we need to just hope that somebody out there is going to recognize him and try to claim that reward.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “I’ll leave it alone, but if you think it might help, I’m willing.”
“Cassie, to be honest, I think the only real results you would get is that the women you help would start to be afraid to come to you. From everything I’ve heard, this city is a lot better off with you doing what you do. I’ll admit I was surprised when you decided to open your own office, but Alicia tells me that’s just the kind of person you are. Don’t let this guy ruin everything for you.”
