Chapter 5

 

Max dropped down at the table and raked his hand through his hair. He had to get his shit together. He was acting unreasonably. Best to concentrate on work. He opened his tablet and saw that Coleman had already emailed him and Whitney. So he phoned Larry Smith, who cooperated with his request.

She walked back into the room ten minutes after she left. She carried a Coke and a cup of black coffee. She set it in front of him.

Somehow that little detail made his throat clog. “Thanks.”

Dropping down next to him, she opened her tablet.

He said, “Our interviews are scheduled for one and four. Hines and Smith.”

“Who’s got the other two on the list?”

“Crane and Laurence. They’ve been thoroughly briefed.”

“I wish we could interview them all. But time is short.”

“If we meet them all in person, we can’t go to their neighborhoods to scope the places out. Which would be our next step. This way we can switch with Crane and Laurence.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She sipped her Coke. “I hate not having all the information firsthand.”

“Let’s review Hines’s record before he gets here.”

Fifteen minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. They both stood and Whitney disposed of his cup and her can.

Max said, “Come in.”

Edgar Hines entered the room. Medium height, slight build, his light brown hair starting to recede. His eyes were sad.

“Welcome, Mr. Hines. I’m Agent Blackwell and this is Agent Dwyer.”

“Hello.”

“Have a seat.” Max motioned to the chair across from them.

When everyone was situated, Whitney began. “We’re interviewing all the staff, in addition to those at headquarters who’ve been involved in the office here. Did Mr. Coleman tell you that?”

“Yes, when he asked me to come in.”

“Fine.” Whitney smiled pleasantly. “This will be informal. Tell us about yourself so we can get to know you a bit better.”

“I don’t like to talk about myself.”

“Try.”

“I was here the day of the blast.”

Not what they asked, but Max went along. Sometimes, it was better to let the interviewee change the direction of the conversation while the agent listened and determined why he took them down that road. “We know. We’re starting with all the people who were in the building at the time of the bombing.”

Sweat beaded on Hines’ brow. “It was horrible. Like a train came through the place.”

“I’ll bet.” Whitney leaned forward. “Could you take us through the events of that time?”

He rubbed his wedding band. “Marla and I came in early and were having coffee. A boom shook the whole breakroom. Coffee splattered everywhere and everything on the table fell off. It was over in seconds. We could smell something burning. We ran out of here and found the others gathered in the office proper. Jake herded us out of the building, and we waited in the parking lot for the emergency personnel. It was very cold.”

He went on to describe what was discovered, that a new claims rep who’d been out in the back, sneaking a smoke had been hurt and taken to the hospital. “Then we were sent home until further notice. He told us to leave our phones on and check our email for updates.”

“Did you do that?”

He didn’t meet their eyes. “Um, yes.”

“Anything else you think we should know?”

“Not really.”

“Do you like working here, Mr. Hines?” Whitney asked.

“It’s my life.” A slight hesitation. “I’ve been in this building for thirty years.”

“Did you ever have any aspirations about climbing the corporate ladder?”

“I was asked about promotions several times.” He sounded defensive. “I said no.”

“Why was that?” Whitney again.

“My wife was ill. I couldn’t afford to spend any more time at the office.”

“Your wife died, didn’t she?” They knew she’d had a battle with cancer all her adult life.

“Yeah, last year. It was a blessing.”

“Do you have children?”

“No. Sara couldn’t. That was okay.”

“Do you have any hobbies?”

A slight flush on his face. “I belong to a Civil War reenactment group.”

“Do you like it?”

The rest of the time was spent trying to draw him out. They discovered incidental information about him, but by two thirty, they knew they wouldn’t get much else from him.

Max stood. “Thank you, Mr. Hines. We appreciate you coming in.”

“Anything I can do to help. So, how long will the office be closed?”

“At least another day.”

“I miss work.” He surveyed the room. “That’s all I have now.”

When he left and the door was closed tightly, Max turned to Whitney. “Red flags?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“For me, too.”

o0o

The sun shone as Whitney and Max took a walk. This was how they decompressed and debriefed. Even though January was chilly, it wasn’t bitter and the fresh air felt good. Sometimes, they used to hold hands on these walks, particularly when they’d been through something difficult. The reminder made her sad. Or maybe the sadness came from the fact that they wouldn’t hold hands ever again.

“So, thoughts?” Max asked after a bit.

“He’s definitely lonely. His past is tragic in some ways. He seems furtive, though that could be shyness.”

“You know,” Max said. “I read somewhere that large groups are often a camouflage for illicit activities.”

“Huh. I always thought this reenactment stuff was weird.”

“You wouldn’t if you lived in the South. When Dad was at University of Carolina, people’s lives revolved around those events.”

“Yeah, I’m a Yankee. What do you think about Hines in general?”

“There are stressors.” Max was thoughtful. “His wife’s long illness. His total focus on the job. The latter is the most concerning.”

“I agree, but in some ways, that’s counterintuitive to bombing the place.”

“If he was unhappy here, he might. At points, his body language spoke of negativity.”

When they finished their discussion, she checked her watch. “We need to get to headquarters by four to interview Larry Smith.”

The sadness returned when they got back in the car. The day had been productive. She and Max were so good together, bouncing ideas off each other, figuring out puzzles, always on the same wavelength. She thought of Jake Coleman. Maybe someone else would eventually enter her life whom she could discuss issues with, argue points and attract her sexually. But now, the mere thought of having another confidante was depressing as hell because she’d had that with Max.

o0o

“Hello, agents.” Larry Smith rushed into his office, where Max and Whitney waited for him. On Monday, he was calm, cool. Today, harried. Was the investigation an issue for him, or was his discomfort because of a personal matter? God knew Max had his own problems to deal with.

Whitney sat across from Smith at yet another conference table. Smith’s office was huge, decorated in black lacquer furniture and chrome. It had two big windows letting in light.

She said, “Thanks for seeing us. We’re interviewing the people from the Revere branch as well as those from this office who have regular contact with the people there.”

Amusement quirked his lips. “I know the drill. This is how you narrow down suspects. And you start with the people you’re most interested in. I’m sure I have a lot of the indicators on your threat-assessment grid. So let’s run through them.”

Max pondered his response. His words were a little too glib. But what the hell? He’d go along. “Fine. Obviously, you’ve worked with the feds in the past. That ought to make this easier. Agent Dwyer, read the information we’ve gathered on Mr. Smith.”

Whitney didn’t lose her cool at Smith’s confidence, either. At one time, she might have, but she’d become more experienced than her age might indicate. “You’re over thirty, male, and have one criminal arrest on your record.”

“I was a junior at Cornell and a hothead. Mary decided not to press charges so I was released.”

“Hmm.”

“We’re friends on Facebook.”

“We know that, too.” Whitney continued. “You’re divorced and have an interesting profile on that site, Instagram, and Timbre. A ton of women post.”

His brows rose. “I like women.”

“Is that why you divorced?” Max asked.

“In some ways.”

She looked down. “You’re on citalopram.”

“Millions of Americans take antidepressants!” There was an edge in his voice now.

They’d gotten him on the defensive.

When he said no more, Max did. “Many of these indicators are shared by millions of Americans. But it’s the combination of them that flag people.”

“You’re right. I’ll cooperate in any way you want.”

“Fine. We’ll get a warrant so we can search your house, computer and office.”

“You don’t need a warrant. Go ahead, I give you my permission to do all that. I have nothing to hide.”

That did take Max aback. Unless he knew how to meticulously cover his tracks, no one would make that offer if he was guilty. Still, they’d follow through investigating him.

o0o

“I’ll have a club sandwich, French fries and a milkshake.”

In the past, Max used to love watching Whitney defy the odds of staying in shape against the food she ate.

He ordered the black-and-blue salad, steak over greens.

“Does Angela eat like you?” She waited. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“No, it’s okay. The answer is yes.”

“It’s good to have things in common.”

He looked down at his food.

She must not have noticed. “So, what do you think of Larry Smith?”

“I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. Offering the search without a warrant is unusual, but maybe he has a secret computer under another name, maybe he had someone else make the bomb, maybe a thousand other things.”

“Yeah, we can’t be too careful.”

His phone buzzed. He checked the text. “The other team has finished with their interviews, too. We’re meeting back at the office in an hour.”

She yawned. “Geez, I’m tired.”

“You can sleep on the way there.”

“Maybe I will.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll be glad when we’re done with this.”

“We have a lot of comp time coming.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What will you do?”

Whitney didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “I’m going to pursue the transfer.”

“Don’t do that now.”

“Why?”

“Take your comp time. See how you feel afterward.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I want to look into it right away.” A pause. “You can do anything you want now, Max, and so can I.”

Again, that had a sexual reference. It had come up after they first slept together…

“So, are we going to keep doing this?” Max asked.

“Having sex? I certainly hope so. It was great for me.”

“Three times.”

She blushed. Then turned serious. “I don’t have much experience, Max. I don’t trust easily and I’ve kept men at a distance.”

“You were great, honey. But if you want some pointers, I can give them to you.”

“I do. Honestly. You can do anything you want to me.” She winked. “And vice versa, of course.”

“Oh, my God, I’ve died and gone to heaven…”

And he did teach her what he knew. What he hadn’t expected was that she would be such a fast learner and then come up with variations that blew his head off.

Maybe she should move away. These memories, these images kept haunting him. Distance would be best for them both. If only the notion didn’t hurt so much.

o0o

“Yes, Mama. I won’t be scared.” Whitney trembled, though. Bad.

“Airplanes are safe, sweetheart. And don’t you want to go visit your cousins?”

“I do. I like Connor best.”

“Because he’s your age.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Only a week, sweet one.”

Her father, on the other side of her in the plane, squeezed her hand. “You won’t even miss us, princess. The Marinos will keep you occupied.”

“This is your captain speaking. We’re encountering turbulence. Fasten your seatbelts.”

“Mama!”

“It’s okay, Whitney. It’s okay.” The voice was Max’s, next to her on the plane.

“IT’S NOT OKAY. IT’S NOT OKAY.”

“Whitney, wake up.”

“It’s going down. It’s going down!”

“Whitney, wake up.” Strong arms circled her. Mama was crooning, “You’re fine, baby. You’re fine.”

“You’ve got to wake up, Whit.”

Her eyes flew open. Max. Darkness. In the car. Stopped.

“You dreamed again. About the plane crash.”

She couldn’t get her bearings. She clutched on to his jacket. Buried her face in his chest. He held her, kissed her head. Finally, she was able to pull away.

“That’s two in three months.”

“I know. I hope they don’t start coming back all the time like they used to.”

“You’re upset because of us.” He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “Fuck!”

She drew in a deep breath. “Let’s ignore this and get on to D.C.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I have to deal with what’s happened on my own now.”

Max sat there a minute, then started the car.

o0o

Drew Michener was grim faced when they entered his office. He glanced at the clock. “You’re later than I thought you’d be.”

“It took us a while to get out of here this morning because of the snow.” Max lied, but he wouldn’t turn Whitney in as the reason for their delay. They’d been careful to keep her sickness to themselves, and until today, it hadn’t interfered with assignments. “We also had a near accident.”

“You two okay?”

Whitney nodded. “Are Crane and Laurence here yet?”

“In the conference room.” He led the way out the door and down the hall. It was six o’clock, but they still had a lot of work ahead of them.

After greetings, Michener said, “Crane, start. Get us caught up.”

A whip-smart agent, Lois Crane read from her device. She filled them in on what information they’d gathered at Braid’s and Jamika’s interviews. They highly doubted Marla was the culprit, but there were many indicators for Jamika exposed in the interview.

When she finished, Michener shook his head. “Jesus. I was hoping we wouldn’t be pursuing a Muslim American.”

“Me, too.” Crane frowned. “I hate racial or religious profiling.”

When it was Whitney and Max’s turn, she took the reins. “Edgar Hines is definitely a suspect. His body language, insecurity and the real depression leads us to think we should check him out further.”

Laurence, an older, more experienced agent than any of them, agreed. “Then we’ll go to Hines’s neighborhood, nose around. You’ll go to Jamika’s. He lives in a working-class hamlet on the edge of Revere.”

“Great. We’ll do that now.” Max addressed Michener. “Did explosives find anything about the bomb?”

“It’s homemade, had a timer, but they can’t determine the exact hour it was supposed to go off.”

“And nothing showed on the credit cards of any of the subjects we ran?” This from Crane.

“Nothing through our databases or online.” This from Drew.

“He or she wouldn’t be stupid enough to buy materials over the Internet,” Crane put in.

“Besides,” Laurence added, “the elements in the bomb could be purchased at any store, hardware or otherwise, in town.”

“Or outside of town.”

Max’s brows knitted. “Then we’re dealing with somebody good at covering his tracks.”

Michener stood. “All right, go out to the locations now. Meanwhile, I’ll have warrants drawn up for searching Hines’s and Jamika’s houses, bank accounts, etcetera, because we’ll probably need them.”

When the other team of agents left, Michener asked Whitney and Max to stay back. “Are you two able to go undercover?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Once again, Max sounded defensive.

“Because you both look like hell. Because your body language toward each other is totally different from before. And because you, Agent Dwyer, asked to be assigned a different partner.”

“We’ll work together as we always have, one last time.”

“I need assurance that you can be professional.”

“Of course we can.” Max modified his tone, but there was steel in it.

“We’re capable of doing this, Drew.”

“Go ahead, then.”

Max walked out of the office behind Whitney.

“We have to change clothes for this part of the assignment,” Whitney commented. “My car’s here, so I can go home and we’ll meet up somewhere.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Why the hell are you always driving? We usually split it.”

“Because you’ve been sick. Also, you’d probably fall asleep at the wheel.

Are you hungry?”

“No. Are you?”

“No, so we’ll go get changed and I’ll be at your house in forty-five.”

As soon as they reached the lobby, Max spotted Angie coming in from outside. Shit. This was all Whitney needed.

Angie’s face lit up. She touched his arm as soon as they got close. Left her hand there. “Hey.” Then turned to Whitney. “Hello, Whitney.”

“Angela.” And to Max, “I’ll head home to change. Goodbye, you two.” The last words were hoarse, uttered softly and wrenchingly.

He stared after her as she walked away.

“Is everything all right?” Angie asked.

He faced her. She wore a green suit with a skirt and a pretty scarf. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“You never came over last night.”

No, I held Whitney in my arms all night. “Did I say I would?”

“Not exactly. I assumed you would. I left you texts. The least you could do was let me know where you were. How you were.”

“We’ve got a big case. And I have to go home and change into undercover clothes.”

“Let me come with you. We could at least talk.”

“Not this time, Angie. I’ll call you.”

He summoned his Secret Service reserve because he was feeling like shit and he didn’t want to say anything to Angie he’d regret. Or hurt her. But one thing was for sure. He didn’t want to be with her right now.

He wanted to be with Whitney.