The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1)

by Davis, Susan Page

  “What was that?” The boy looked toward Harvey, and his voice rose and cracked as he spoke.

  “Jimmy, stay here.” Nate, Arnie, and Harvey ran down the hallway and out the front door. Eddie was picking himself up off the walkway just outside. The police car sat where Nate had parked it earlier, and five yards behind it was a fireball.

  “Move the squad car!” Harvey yelled.

  Nate ran around to the driver’s side and gingerly hopped in. He turned the key, threw it in gear and roared down the driveway thirty yards, parked and got out. He walked back to where Harvey, Eddie, and Arnie stood outside the entrance. All along that side of the school, students hung out of windows and stared at the fire.

  “That’s my car, isn’t it, Ed?” Harvey said.

  “Yup.”

  “Man!”

  “Well, look at it this way: you needed a new car.”

  Harvey made a face at Eddie and pulled out his cell phone.

  “This is Detective Larson. I’m at the high school, and I need the bomb squad.”

  “Bomb threat?” the patrol sergeant asked. “Because if it is, you’ll need to evacuate immediately.”

  Harvey sighed. “I wish it were a bomb threat. My car just blew up.”

  There was a moment’s silence then the sergeant said, “I copy that. The bomb squad will be there in fifteen minutes. Any p.i.?”

  “No, we’re fine, but send a few extra guys if you can, for crowd control,” Harvey said.

  They stood watching. The flames roared, and smoke billowed high. A charred half-page of Harvey’s Maine atlas came fluttering down.

  Nate picked it up. “Huh. Ashland.”

  Harvey frowned. “My winter jacket was in there.”

  “You should clean your car more often, Harv,” said Eddie.

  Harvey turned on him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “Your hand is bleeding.”

  Eddie took out his handkerchief and swabbed at the cut. Harvey looked closer.

  “Not too bad. Glass, probably. You want it checked?”

  “Nah.”

  “Anything else hurt?”

  “No. I was lucky, I guess. I got out, and I was almost to the school door when it blew.”

  “Where’s Tonya?”

  “She was ready to talk, so I sent her and her mother to the station with Cheryl Yeaton.”

  Arnie whistled. “Good thing.”

  Harvey nodded. It was a very good thing.

  “The back window in the squad car’s cracked,” Nate offered.

  “Terrific,” Harvey said. “Make sure you file the damage report when you get back.”

  Nate nodded.

  “Go in and see if Jimmy’s got things under control. Tell the principal to get the kids settled down if he can. Keep them in their rooms.”

  “Shouldn’t we evacuate?”

  “I don’t think so. The bomb was out here, and they’re not. They’re probably

  safer inside.”

  Nate went into the school, and Arnie said, “You think someone in the school did this?”

  “I don’t see how, unless they planted the bomb before Eddie left here.” Harvey scowled, thinking of all the possibilities.

  “So, who did it, and when?” Eddie asked.

  “Someone could have done it while you were at the Bretons’ house, or Mrs.

  Breton’s office. How long were you there?”

  He shrugged. “Twenty minutes max.”

  “Right. As soon as Yeaton got there, you left. Five seconds after you got back here, kaboom.”

  “A pro could do this in thirty seconds,” Arnie said. “It was probably while you were at Mrs. Breton’s office.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ed,” Harvey said. “Don’t look so depressed. I should have sent someone with you, but we didn’t have enough men. I’m just glad you made it back here okay.”

  “How could I get in a car with a bomb and not know it?”

  “It depends on where they put it. It must have had a timer.”

  “Do you think Tonya did it?” Eddie’s eyes darkened.

  Harvey gritted his teeth and shrugged. “She’s only sixteen. It’s more likely her cocaine supplier did it or had it done. When the metal cools off, the bomb squad might be able to tell us what kind of device it was.”

  The fire was burning itself out. Eddie leaned on a pillar at the entryway and watched it, frowning.

  “You’d better take the rest of the day off,” Harvey said.

  Eddie grimaced. “Forget it. This isn’t a day to sit around.”

  Arnie laughed. “No, it’s a day to check your life insurance policy and tell your mother you love her.”

  Two police cars rolled into the school yard, and a fire truck approached with its siren wailing.

  “Talk to these guys, Arnie,” Harvey told him. “There’s something I need to do.”

  *****

  “Did you hear?” Jane Morrow asked Jennifer when she returned to the office from lunch.

  “Hear what?”

  “Nick Dunham was seen in Florida.”

  Jennifer stared at her. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Tom Henderson just told me.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “Detective Larson was here yesterday, and he didn’t say anything like that.”

  Jane frowned. “As if the police would tell us. Tom told me some friend of his e-mailed him that the FBI has a lead in Florida.”

  “Oh, come on. The FBI telling Tom’s mythical friend is more believable than the local police telling us?”

  There was affront in Jane’s arched eyebrows. “Well, I believe it. He ran off and left Lisa and the kids, and is working at a nightclub in Orlando.”

  “Don’t tell me. He’s a bouncer.”

  “No,” Jane said stiffly. “He’s a singer.”

  Jennifer tried to hold back her laughter, but she couldn’t help it. The tension of the last two days boiled over. It started as a low chortle, and quickly escalated.

  Jane stared at her. “What? You think that’s—” She winced. “I guess you’re right. It is pretty funny.”

  Jennifer gasped and touched her friend’s sleeve. “Jane, does it make sense to you that a man who wants to disappear would take a high-profile job as a singer?”

  Jane began to laugh. “Remember the Christmas party, when we were all singing Jingle Bells?”

  “Do I ever. Nick can’t sing.”

  “Okay, I get it. Tom was pulling my leg. But that’s a pretty nasty joke, if you think about it. What if I’d seen Lisa and said something to her?”

  “Yes,” Jennifer said. “It’s not at all nice.”

  Jane went back to her desk, and Jennifer turned to her computer. She wished she hadn’t put Harvey off. All afternoon she regretted it. But tomorrow would be better. Maybe by then she could sort out the apprehension that had grabbed her when Jane mentioned Nick Dunham. And maybe by then her pulse would quit racing every time she thought of the fine lines that formed at the corners of Harvey’s vivid blue eyes when he smiled at her.

  But tomorrow was so far away.

  *****

  It was after five o’clock when Jimmy took Harvey and Eddie back to the police station in the squad car. Harvey was glad on one level that he didn’t have to rush home to get ready for a date, but part of him wished he was seeing Jennifer tonight. Maybe then he could forget about how close his best friend had come to annihilation.

  Mike stood up as they came out of the stairway into the office.

  “Are you guys all right?”

  “I’m okay,” Eddie said, looking ruefully at the Band-aid on his hand. “I feel bad about Harvey’s car.”

  “You can use one from the motor pool until you get something else,” Mike said. “I already called our insurance guy to come see you tomorrow, Harv. You should get a check right away. So, where are you on the case?”

  Harvey sat down wearily at his desk. “I’m actually more optimistic than
I was this morning. A girl Arnie questioned gave us a tip that may lead to some arrests.”

  “Great,” Mike said. “I told the detective sergeant to put one of his men on this car bomb thing.”

  “Not us?” Eddie asked, openly disappointed.

  “You’re too close to it. Let them handle it.”

  “If we solve the drug case, we’ll solve the bombing,” Eddie predicted. He headed for the locker room.

  When they were alone, Mike looked keenly at Harvey. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I was nowhere near it when it went off. Eddie’s the one who had the close shave.”

  “I know.” Mike stroked his chin. “Something’s been bothering you lately. Is it Carrie?”

  Harvey smiled grimly. “I’m good, Mike.”

  His captain nodded thoughtfully. “All right, I’ll leave you alone. Just keep me posted. This car bomb might not have anything to do with the school case.”

  “I know. I keep trying not to think it, but it’s possible someone wanted Eddie out of the way.”

  “More likely it was aimed at you.” Mike took his blazer from the back of his chair. “Could be someone with a grudge against you from a case you handled years ago. Be careful, Harv. You and Eddie both need to check your vehicles before you start the engine.”

  “Right.” Mike left by the stairway, and Harvey sat for a moment, staring at his computer screen. It was late. He would come back for an hour or two Saturday morning and catch up on the paperwork. He loosened his necktie and ran a hand through his hair. This had to be the craziest day of his life.

  *****

  Jennifer unlocked the door and let herself into the little rental house. She was relieved that her roommate wasn’t home yet. Donna-jean had a way of making her feel ill at ease in her own home. She had advertised for a roommate when she got the job in Portland, knowing it would be hard to pay the rent alone, and Donna-jean was what she got. How many times had she wished she’d taken longer to decide and interviewed more candidates?

  She took her portfolio and jacket to her bedroom, then went to the tiny kitchen. As she scanned the contents of the refrigerator, the doorbell rang.

  She looked out the kitchen window. A beige van sat in the driveway, a commercial logo clearly visible on the side panel. She went quickly through the living room and opened the door cautiously, keeping the security chain on it. A young woman about her age stood waiting.

  “Flowers for Jennifer Winthrop.”

  “Wainthrop,” she said automatically. “Did you say flowers?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Someone is thinking of you today.”

  Jennifer smiled, still not quite believing it, but the woman held a rectangular box and a clipboard. She unfastened the chain and took the package.

  She locked the door again and carried the box to the kitchen table, her breath coming in shallow gulps. Her stomach fluttered as she carefully lifted the lid.

  Roses. Velvety yellow roses. Their fragrance surrounded her, giving rise to a wild, riotous hope.

  She pried the tiny card out of the envelope. Jennifer, the hours are dragging. Until tomorrow. Harvey

  Her pulse galloped as she pictured him telling the florist, “A dozen roses. Perfect yellow roses.”

  She strode quickly to her bedroom and opened the leather portfolio she carried to work. After ransacking the pockets inside, she extracted his business card.

  Should she, or shouldn’t she?

  She went back to the kitchen and took her phone from her purse. She punched in the first three digits of Harvey’s cell phone number, then hit “End.” She found she was as nervous as she had been when she drove to the restaurant to meet him for lunch.

  The scent of the roses washed over her, and she went to look at them again. It was years since a man had sent her flowers. More than three years now, and they hadn’t been as nice as these. These were serious flowers.

  She clicked on her phone, took a deep breath, and called. It rang three times. She nearly hung up, but then his voice came, confident and sure.

  “Detective Larson.” There was just a hint of fatigue.

  “I—Hello—I—it’s Jennifer.” She gulped.

  “Well, hello. This is a nice surprise.”

  “I—is it all right for me to call you like this?”

  “Sure. I told you to.”

  “That was if I had information. I don’t really, but—well, there is something, but I really called about the flowers.”

  “Aha.”

  There was silence, and for a panicky moment she thought, Oh, no! This is a mistake!

  “You seemed like a rose person,” he said, and her relief was so sharp she sat down on the floor and leaned back against the cupboard.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “They’re wonderful. I—I’ve never had a gift so beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like them.”

  Jennifer closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the hard cabinet door. His voice alone was enough to set her adrenaline flowing.

  “You said there was something else?” he asked, and she jerked upright.

  “Well, yes, sort of. I—” She made herself inhale and exhale quietly. “Do you think Nick Dunham is still alive?”

  “Honestly? My instincts say he’s not, but we have to keep going as if he is, keep hoping he is. I keep checking with the hospitals and watching the law enforcement updates, but so far there’s nothing solid.”

  Jennifer sighed. “There’s a silly rumor going around the office that he’s trying to make it as a singer down in Florida.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Have you heard anything like that?”

  “No. We’ve followed up on all the tips that were called in after his disappearance, but this is the first I’ve heard of Florida.”

  “Orlando,” Jennifer said quickly. “My friend Jane told me. Some guy in the office told her he’d heard it by e-mail. It struck me funny at the time, and I told her it was a joke. Is it?”

  Harvey was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. Probably, but I’ll check it out. Do you have this guy’s name and phone number?”

  “Tom Henderson. I don’t have his home number.”

  “But he works at Coastal?”

  “Yes. He works on the infrastructure.”

  “He’s not a programmer?”

  “Well, sort of. He’s not a designer, but he takes care of the company’s network.”

  “I see.”

  Jennifer had the comforting feeling that he did see.

  “I’ll have a little chat with Mr. Henderson this evening.”

  She winced. “I didn’t mean to make extra work for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We want to find Nick Dunham. A little overtime is incidental.”

  She heard a car in the driveway again and stood to look out the window.

  “Detective—Harvey? My roommate just came home.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Right. Thank you.”

  Reluctantly she hung up. She went to the table and stuffed the card back into its envelope, then tucked it in her pocket. But there was no hiding the gorgeous roses. She opened the cabinets, searching for a vase. She was lifting the roses carefully from the green tissue paper when Donna-jean poked her head into the kitchen.

  “Wow! Excellent! What’s the occasion?”

  Jennifer took a deep breath. She’d had two minutes to plan what she would tell her roommate about Harvey.

  “A friend of mine sent them.” She smiled as mundanely as she could manage, but her heart still pounded.

  Donna-jean smiled knowingly. “Some friend. He must be filthy rich.”

  “Well, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Then he’s in love. Congratulations.”

  Jennifer swallowed. “I—Thanks.”

  But Donna-jean had already retreated into the living room, and Jennifer heard her bedroom door close. The stale smell of tobacco that perpetually wafted around Donna-jean was,
for once, overpowered by the scent of roses.

  *****

  Eddie sat at his desk, banging out a report with two fingers on the keyboard. At last he finished and swiveled toward Harvey. “So, you ready to go home?”

  “Actually, I just got a tip in the Dunham case. I’m going to stay for a while and follow it up.”

  “Need some help?”

  Harvey considered that. “I’m not sure yet. It’s an office rumor. I’m trying to get to the source.”

  “I’ll stay,” Eddie said.

  “No date tonight?”

  Eddie shrugged.

  “You don’t usually lack for a date on Friday night,” Harvey said.

  “I’m seeing Pamela later. You know, the waitress from Clark’s? She doesn’t get off ’til ten.”

  “You’re reduced to picking up cocktail waitresses now?”

  Eddie bristled. “Hey, she’s smart. She’s a student at the university, and that’s how she earns her tuition money. I don’t suppose you want to double?”

  “Not.”

  “She’s a physics major.”

  “Really,” Harvey said dryly, thumbing through his local phone book. There were three Thomas Hendersons listed. One was a dentist. He dialed the second one and got a busy signal. He tried the third number, and a woman answered.

  “Hey, is Tom in?” Harvey said brightly.

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “This is Harvey. I know him from Coastal Technology.” Harvey cringed inwardly, and glanced up at Eddie, but his minor fiction hadn’t even registered with his partner. Eddie had peeled the Band-aid from his hand and was examining his wound. When Eddie had joined the unit, it had been up to Harvey to instruct him on how to lie glibly. Why was he suddenly developing a conscience?

  “He’s not home yet,” the woman said. “He had to run an errand, but he should be here in a half hour.”

  “I’ll catch up with him later.” Harvey hung up. “Come on, let’s get a ride home. We can get your truck and grab a bite to eat, then we’ll swing by this guy’s house.”

  At 6:45 they left the Burger King and headed for Tom Henderson’s house.

  “You’ll have to drive Monday,” Harvey said. He and Eddie had carpooled to work for almost three years. They lived only a couple of blocks apart and rode around together all day, anyway.