by Maggie Wells
“Lori’s off duty?” Alicia asked Mike.
He nodded. Pulling out his cell phone, he drew up the other deputy’s contact information and dialed. “She is, but I’d better let her know what’s happening.”
Once Ben had finished his head count, Alicia turned to him. “Do you even have people qualified to deal with a bomb threat here?”
He nodded. “Sort of. No bomb squad or anything, but one of the guys on fire and rescue got a qualification.”
Alicia stared at him, openmouthed. “Has this person ever actually worked on a live bomb?”
Ben merely shrugged. “No cause to, as far as I can tell. We don’t get a lot of bomb threats around here.” His expression grim, he stared at the front of the building. “This is all getting way out of hand.”
Alicia snorted. “It got way out of hand a while back.”
Beside her, the sheriff nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the building. Alicia peeked over her shoulder to find Harry speaking quietly with the judge and the two women who worked in his office. Layla was visibly shaken. Alicia wondered if the young woman would stick with the DA’s office after all this madness or seek a safer position with a white-shoe firm in Atlanta. There, she’d only have to deal with the terrorists within while she found ways for their wealthy clients to become even more wealthy, rather than fighting the injustices of the world.
The wail of a siren cranked up and alerted them to movement from the fire-and-rescue team. A bright red fire truck pulled from its bay and turned right onto Main Street. It roared and growled the full block and a half to the municipal building. Alicia smirked as they pulled to a halt directly in front of the doors.
“They could’ve run down the street,” she commented dryly.
Ben proved he was still a city slicker at heart with the smile he wore when he turned to look at her. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“Any ideas on who your tipster might’ve been?” Alicia asked while they watched a handful of firemen jump from the rig in full turnout gear.
Beside her, Ben shrugged. “Julianne says it was a woman. Said she thought she knew the voice but couldn’t quite place it. Maybe once the excitement calms down and she has a minute to think,” he replied laconically.
Alicia gave him an assessing stare. “For a guy who doesn’t field bomb threats often, you sure are taking this in stride.”
Ben met her gaze directly. “After the past couple weeks, nothing is going to surprise me.” He took her elbow and pulled her along with him, moving farther down the block to get a better view around the front of the fire truck. “The sooner this damn trial starts and finishes, the happier we’ll all be.”
“Amen,” she murmured. “But we also have to hope it ends in a conviction.”
“True,” he grunted. He nodded to the single man wearing full body armor who jumped down from the truck holding his helmet in his hand. “Betting Toby Bates wishes he hadn’t thought it would be so cool to sign up for an explosives course,” he said dryly.
“Is it me, or does he look to be no older than twelve?”
“He looks young because he is young. Joined the department straight out of high school, from what he tells me,” Ben replied.
She watched as the younger man hefted a metal box she assumed contained whatever tools he might need for the task. Glancing at Ben, she asked, “You know him?”
Ben nodded. “His dad’s one of the managers at Timber Masters. I’ve met them through Marlee, but he made a point of seeking me out not long after I got to town.”
Curiosity piqued, she studied the sheriff. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Toby’s parents weren’t happy about him not going to college. They weren’t happy about him joining the fire service either. They weren’t thrilled about a lot of things I thought should make a parent proud.” His jaw tightened. “Since when did protecting and serving one’s community become a career choice parents discourage?”
An involuntary snort escaped her before she could stop it. Ben turned to her, startled. “What?”
She turned to face him, her expression solemn. “My relationship with my parents summed up in a single question.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the blast of an explosion ripped through the air.
Cracks appeared in the building’s glass doors. In a flash, Harry was by her side, his strong arms wrapping around her. They grappled as his weight drove her to the ground. She shifted her weight to land on top of him, but soon found herself flat on her back staring up at the cloudless winter sky.
Panting, she shoved against his shoulder. “Let me up.”
“No way,” he huffed.
“Harry, damn it, that bomb wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for you,” she said, hoping to jolt some sense into him. He needed to let her protect him.
No such luck. “There’s no way I’m going to let you be hurt on my account. If you won’t take care of yourself for the sake of taking care of yourself, think about the baby,” he said, his voice rising on the last word.
Their eyes locked and held, and in the middle of all the pandemonium, there was a beat of shocked silence. It closed around them like a bubble.
And it popped the instant Julianne Shields asked, “What baby?”
Chapter Fifteen
Harry allowed himself to be ushered along with the rest of the spectators to Brewster’s Bakery, where they would wait while the law enforcement professionals combed through what evidence they could recover from the scene. No one had been injured in the blast. Toby Bates had yet to go inside, thank goodness. All around them people hovered and buzzed. Alicia had been seated at a table in the center of the room and quickly surrounded by a bevy of clucking mother hens. She sent him imploring glares, but Harry was having a hard enough time keeping his mind wrapped around the fact that somebody had literally built a bomb and left it in his place of business.
The fountain. He’d heard one of the firefighters say it blew up the fountain. For some inexplicable reason, the news made him terribly sad. Sure, it hadn’t functioned in years and had become sort of a depressing eyesore, but he remembered it from when he was young. Back in the day, it had bubbled and gushed, making the spacious atrium come to life with the sound of rushing water. His dad used to give him pennies to toss into it. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall a single wish he’d made with those coins, but he knew what he’d wish for now.
He wished this would all go away.
Matt Rinker. Could he have done this? Up till now, he’d been able to disassociate the notion these attacks were being perpetrated by someone he knew, but now they had a name...
“Mike, we need to take the rest of the statement in a more private setting,” he said in a low voice. “Alicia and I have been putting some things together and we have some theories, but no proof. I don’t want to talk about it here.”
To his credit, Deputy Schaeffer simply nodded and made a note on the order pad he’d borrowed from Camille Brewster’s back counter. “Absolutely,” Mike replied, his tone brusque and businesslike. “I can’t believe somebody put a bomb in our building.”
Harry smiled at the young deputy, both in sympathy and with a wistful longing for the days when he was so certain his world was safe. “It seems like the world is getting stranger and stranger,” Harry commiserated.
“I don’t think the internet helps these matters,” Mike said. “People get fired up over things that aren’t even real. I watched a whole documentary on it on Cineflix the other night. Everyone is spouting off, and they stop seeing one another as people. The next thing you know, they’re doing a damn search on how to build an incendiary device out of household goods.”
Or throwing flaming bottles of kerosene through living-room windows. Harry tapped the tabletop with two fingers, then rose from his chair. “I don’t want to sound like an old fogy, because I’m not one, but I agree. It seems
like this is all ramping up.”
Mike nodded solemnly. “My dad keeps telling me people need to remember the good old days weren’t always good. A lot of bad stuff went on before. We didn’t hear about it the second it happened.”
Harry inclined his head, deferring to the younger man’s wisdom. “You’re right. And not everything you hear is true. Or needs some sort of response.”
Mike’s gaze traveled to the counter, a sly smile curving his lips. “Only one thing remains the same.”
Harry was intrigued enough to bite. “What’s that?”
“Camille Brewster makes the best darn doughnuts in all of Georgia.”
Harry laughed and cast a glance at the counter himself. “A truth universally acknowledged, my friend.” He raised a hand in farewell to the younger man. “I’m going to grab a couple hits of sugar, then see if I can’t smuggle Alicia out of here until some of the commotion cools down. Would y’all mind coming by the house to take the rest of our statements?”
“Not at all,” Mike replied affably.
Harry nodded. “Are you a jelly or cream-filled man?”
“Personally, I tend to go with a chocolate-glazed twist,” Mike admitted.
“One chocolate-glazed twist coming right up.”
Harry stepped to the counter where Camille was busy resetting the coffee maker. He wasn’t sure if it was the excitement or the sudden rush of midafternoon customers adding the rosy glow to her cheeks. After all, one man’s bomb was another woman’s boom, he thought to himself wryly.
When the older woman turned, she gasped as if surprised to find him there. She pressed her hand to her heart and fluttered it a bit. “Oh, Harry, I didn’t hear you come up.”
“Hey, Mrs. B,” he said by way of greeting. Adult or not, there were some folks in town he never could address by their given names. “Can I get a chocolate-glazed twist and two cream-filled to go, please?”
The older woman plucked a sheet of bakery tissue from the box and snapped open a bag with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Honest to goodness, Harry, I have no idea what this world is coming to.”
“Seems to be the sentiment of the day,” he replied tiredly. “Would you mind putting the twist in a separate bag?”
She dropped the two cream-filled doughnuts into the open sack and rolled the top down. “Not a problem.” She opened a second bag, and he pulled a five-dollar bill from his wallet. Harry held it at the ready, but when she reached the register, she waved his money away. “Absolutely not. Not today.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she held up a hand. “Besides, these doughnuts are hours old, and they’re probably going to give you a stomachache.”
She shoved the bags across the counter. Leaning in, she pitched her voice low. “Your lady friend appears to be done in. I suggest you get her out of here as soon as you can.”
Harry smiled at the notion of Alicia being described as anybody’s lady friend and knew instinctively she’d be insulted by the implication she was “done in.” He chanced a glance over his shoulder and found the woman in question glaring daggers at him. Unable to suppress a mischievous smile, he turned back to Mrs. Brewster.
“Exactly my plan, ma’am.” He nodded to the bag. “Thank you for these.”
“It’s my pleasure, hon. You go on now. I’ll handle these lookie-loos,” she assured him.
Harry dropped the five in her tip jar.
She only nodded and turned to switch out a full coffeepot for an empty one.
Harry snatched up the bags, dropped one on the table in front of Mike. Elbowing his way to the table where Alicia sat surrounded, he cast a tired smile at the crowd.
“Excuse me, folks. I need to steal Alicia, if I may.” The people seated around her gazed at him blankly, and it was all Harry could do to keep from snapping at them to back off. Nodding to Alicia, he gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Come on. I got something for you.”
Out on the sidewalk, Harry unrolled the bag. “Mike said he and Ben would come over to the house to take our statements.” He reached into the sack and used the bakery sheet Mrs. Brewster had left in there to extract one of the cream-filled doughnuts. “Here. You need to keep your strength up.”
She smirked and took the pastry from him. “There you go, treating me like a cop again.” She exhaled long and loud. “Thank you for the save. And for this,” she said, toasting him with the doughnut.
“How well do you know Marcus Zeller?” Harry asked as they turned the corner and headed toward his house.
Alicia’s brows shot up in surprise. “Zeller? From the US Attorney’s Office? He’s a good guy. One of the best. Why?”
“He seems oddly unperturbed by all of this,” Harry said, gesturing to the street around them. “And untouched.”
“You think he’s in on things?”
“Not necessarily. But I worry maybe someone has gotten to someone. Or something.”
Alicia stared straight ahead, her doughnut still clutched in her hand untouched. “Part of Coulter’s strategy for asking for a bench trial was he didn’t want a jury, right? He didn’t want to be tried in the court of public opinion.”
He inclined his head. “Always part of it, but people also opt for a bench trial when they think they can beat the evidence presented. The odds are stacked against the defense. The prosecution only has to convince one man—Judge Schneider. I don’t know the man, but judges are notoriously harder to convince than juries. We can only sway them with evidence and the testimony of key witnesses.”
“The chain of custody on the evidence is in agency hands,” Alicia reminded him.
“It is.”
“Are you starting to think he has the judge or someone at the DEA in his pocket?” she asked.
Harry sighed. “I don’t know what to think. Someone detonated a homemade bomb in the building where I work. My house has been shot up, and my car has suffered more abuse than any vehicle deserves,” he said with a wry smile. “All I know is, for some reason I’m bearing the brunt of this. None of the others involved in bringing Samuel Coulter to justice are seeing the same kind of backlash.”
“Has anyone tried to bribe you?” she asked bluntly.
“No. Of course, I wasn’t on their radar at first. I’m only along for the ride on this case. It’s Zeller’s show. I figure they thought I was a nuisance they could scare off.”
“I see.” Alicia nodded, taking a large bite of the doughnut. White cream oozed from the pastry. She had a smear of it on her upper lip. Harry was tempted to stop and kiss it away. The events of the day, compounded by the kiss they’d shared Saturday night, made him wonder what he was waiting for.
“We need to find a way to get to Matt Rinker. I think if we can flush him out, maybe get him cornered, he’ll let us know exactly how deep this goes.”
Alicia nodded, still chewing. She swallowed the bite and peeled back the paper in preparation to take more. “Agreed.” They walked in silence for a few seconds. As they approached his house, she popped the last bit of her doughnut into her mouth and chewed. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she said, “I think I have an idea of who can help us.”
* * *
A SHORT TIME LATER, Harry opened his front door to find Deputy Schaeffer, Sheriff Kinsella and Marlee Masters standing on his porch. He waved Mike and Ben in, but frowned at Marlee when she passed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Marlee barked a laugh. “Way to make a girl feel welcome. I’m gonna have a word with your mama about your manners the next time your parents come to visit.”
Harry wagged his head and shut the door. When he turned back to find her still standing in his space, he leaned forward to brush an apologetic kiss across her cheek. “Of course you’re welcome. I simply was not aware you’d be joining in the fun. I thought we were giving a statement.”
Marlee straightened. “You are, but Alicia
texted me and asked me to come over. It seems we have a plot to hatch.”
He let the notion of a plot roll around in his head while he and Alicia quickly and dispassionately recounted everything they’d noticed about the city municipal center atrium in the brief minutes they’d sat on the edge of the mosaic fountain.
Once they were finished, Ben nodded to Deputy Schaeffer and clapped him on the shoulder. “See, this is where rank pays off. Type all this up for us, will you, Mike?” he asked with a good-natured chuckle.
Schaeffer rose from his seat. “No one was going to wait for you to type it up, Sheriff. We’d all have gray hair.”
Marlee snorted, turning to Alicia. “He’s a two-finger typist.”
When Mike left, Ben turned back to the rest of them. “Actually, I’m a good typist, but I don’t want them to know. I hate writing up reports.”
Marlee reached over and gave his hand a pat. “Sure you are, sugar,” she cooed. Her expression turned all business. “Okay, so you need to lure Matt Rinker out into the open,” she said, getting down to brass tacks. “I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it or not.”
“Oh,” Harry murmured. “This doesn’t sound good.”
Marlee gave a mirthless laugh. “I know you won’t like it, Harry, but you’ll go along with it because I’m pretty sure Alicia will see the wisdom of my plan.”
He smiled. It was hard not to appreciate how much Marlee Masters had come into her own in the months since she’d taken over running her father’s business. “All right, shoot.”
“Well, as you may know, but Alicia may not, the live nativity starts this weekend,” Marlee began.
“Live nativity?” Alicia asked, bewildered.
“We set up a stable and manger scene on the lawn outside the old courthouse and cast real people to portray different roles in the nativity.”
“At the courthouse? Can you even have one on public property?”
