Rachel Lee - Conard County Revenge

“Smart mouths.”

“Yeah. And they push each other into stupidity sometimes. But he’s never criticized one of them in a way that anybody complains about. Gifted with dealing with testosterone, I guess. But for the rest?” She looked at Darcy. “I’ve never talked with him much about his FBI days. Wayne’s given me the sense that Alex would prefer to forget them. But given that his school has been struck by a bomb...and more specifically his shop facilities...” She trailed off. “I dunno, Darcy. He’s a grown man. He knows how to say no. My guess is that he’d like to do something constructive about this mess, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“I’m not asking for a guarantee. I just want to avoid hitting a raw nerve, but I’m not trying to put you on the spot or deprive him of the right to speak for himself.”

She was good at figuring out the mechanics of the bomb. Good at tracking evidence back to its source. Not so good at trying to evaluate the psychology of a bomber. Other than that they were usually cowards, she didn’t know a whole lot. Once she’d amassed enough evidence, the FBI would probably assist in this investigation. They often did, having their own skill sets and people. But she didn’t want to wait that long. She wanted to know if her nose was misleading her. Literally.

“Have you been inside the building?” she asked Charity.

“Sure. Fortunately, the blast didn’t escape the shop rooms in there. Stopped dead at the corridor wall.”

“More cinder block?”

“I believe so. I’m sure we have all that info back at the department. The paint is blackened but I was mostly looking at the containment. You can probably tell a lot more. Let’s walk around to the door, though. I don’t want to disturb the ground out here any more than necessary.”

“Agreed,” Darcy answered, surprised at how glad she was to have Charity as a teammate in this. Someone to show her around, someone who could answer questions because she knew the area and the people. Alex could do as much and in some instances more, if he was willing. She wished she knew what had happened to him in the BSU. She had no difficulty imagining the ugly minutiae he must have dealt with in that job, but something had pushed him to a breaking point. One that had cost him a whole lot.

She walked with Charity, ignoring the twenty-five or thirty people who’d gathered, nodding briefly at Jackson Castor, who still held the bag of cooling coffees that hadn’t been claimed by the workmen.

“Have a coffee, Jack,” she said. “No point letting it all cool down.”

He grinned and nodded.

And if she were him, she’d probably have wandered away in boredom by now. He was what, seventeen or eighteen? Most people that age wouldn’t want to stand around being bored, because sure as heck nothing exciting was happening right now.

Which caused a quiet ping on her internal radar.

Just as they rounded a corner of the building to face large steel doors with small windows, one of the doors opened and the Viking appeared. Well, it was Alex, but he still reminded her of a beardless Viking, one that reminded her she was still very much a woman. She wondered if that reaction would wear off. She hoped so because she’d spent a lot of effort developing a cool, professional persona in a career field dominated by men. Now that she was leading an investigation, it would be a bad time to mess that up by giving in to a sexual attraction.

Alex greeted her with a nod and a pleasant smile, and eyes that slipped over her body like a caress. “All set. You can use the gymnasium as long as we spread some of those tarps on the floor. I can get some help doing that for you. Gotta protect that finish, you know.”

Darcy smiled. “I get it. That gloss on a basketball floor is expensive and essential.”

“Oh, yeah.” His smile widened a shade. “Going to look around inside?”

“Charity’s showing me.”

“I’ll come along. I promise not to touch.”

He said it humorously. She was quite sure he knew all about preserving evidence. Still, he was offering friendliness. He was also sending signals that he didn’t want to be left out of this. Good. She didn’t need him to take over, but she was sure his brain might be worth picking. A complete 180 from her initial reaction. She just hoped it wasn’t hormone-driven.

The shop rooms were at the back of the school, in what appeared to be a separate wing. As they turned into the corridor leading to them, she stopped. From this vantage point, it appeared that farther down, near some doors on the right, the wall had bulged outward.

“What?” Alex asked.

She pointed. “Look down the right wall. What do you see?”

Alex drew a breath. Charity muttered something. “It’s bulging,” Alex said. “Good God. What kind of force would be needed to do that?”

“I need to do some calculations,” Darcy answered. Her gaze swept down along the wall, then to the ceiling overhead. A drop ceiling, it should have showed some sign if it had been affected, but it appeared to be perfectly all right. She’d need some measurements to be sure, but her eyes were telling her it was still square.

Then she looked at the bulge again. “The bomb was fairly low. Right now I’d guess it was outside of the building when it detonated. Look what it did to the exterior wall. If it had been inside I think we’d see more than some bowing on that wall.”

Alex nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“I still need to see inside the rooms. I’m just guessing.” But a picture was beginning to build, and it didn’t include access to the school when it was locked up overnight. Another piece to the puzzle perhaps.

They continued down the corridor and Alex pulled out a key ring. “This seems ridiculous now,” he said as he slipped a key into the lock on the nearest door. It turned easily. “Well, I didn’t expect that,” he remarked. “I thought it would be busted.”

It turned out, however, that the door was out of line and didn’t want to open easily. “I imagine,” he said, “that you don’t want to take an ax to this.”

“I’d rather see the original damage. Then I want to measure that bulge and how far it is from the bomb opening.” She glanced at Charity. “Can I get a surveyor out here?”

“I’m sure you can get anything you want.”

Alex spoke. “I know just the guy. He’ll be able to tell how deformed the wall is.” He leaned into the door while holding the latch open and pushed. It moved just a little. “Okay...” He gave another shove, harder, a grunt escaping him this time, but the door opened four inches.

“We’re on our way,” Charity remarked. “Should I get a pry bar from the truck?”

“Let me give it one more try. It feels like something is behind it.”

He leaned backward into the door, this time using his entire body for leverage, and slowly, scraping every inch of the way, it opened wide enough that Darcy could slip inside.

There the story was very different. Not only were shop machines and tables twisted and tossed everywhere, but the ceiling had also burned and collapsed, leaving exposed wires dangling. “Circuit breakers off?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Alex said, easing his way in beside her.

“Surprise,” Darcy muttered. “It looks like a bomb went off.”

“No kidding,” he answered. “Do you know what I’m seeing?”

She turned her head toward him, curious. “What?”

“A lot of opportunity smashed. A lot of really good projects my students were working on, destroyed. We might be able to get this shop up and running by next fall, but there are a lot of seniors who had some really fine stuff underway here, and it’s gone. Son of a...” He stopped himself, but while his face remained emotionless, she could feel anger seething in him. Then he looked at her. “They don’t get their dreams back. Their excitement over all they were achieving.”