She paused, remembering their conversation that morning. She'd gone over it a million times in her head. Something had distracted Quinn. He'd been checking his phone. He'd decided not to go with her to the ribbon-cutting at the last minute, because his study group had changed the time of their meeting. It was a point that the police and the FBI had grilled him about relentlessly, but his answer had never changed, and his alibi had checked out.
She had never believed he'd set the bomb. He'd been with her the night before and every second of that morning. And she couldn't stomach the idea that he would have knowingly sent her into a building that he knew was going to blow up. But the police and her family hadn't been as convinced. They might not have thought he placed the bomb, but they'd believed he knew something about it, because of his ties to the LNF Army, an environmental activist group at Bolton. LNF stood for Leave No Footprint.
The group of eco-warriors had taken part in many protests, both on campus and off, some against her family's group of businesses as well as other companies in the Bay Area with a poor record on the environment. They'd also targeted political leaders. Most of their protests had been non-violent, but some members of the group had gotten into trouble for assault, vandalism, and trespassing.
While the FBI had interrogated many members of the group, no evidence had turned up directly linking anyone in the LNF to the bomb, including Quinn.
Two months after the explosion, Quinn had left school, and he'd left her. She'd found out from a contact in the dean's office that he'd completed his finals early. After that, there was no record of him. He had disappeared off the face of the earth. As soon as she'd joined the FBI, she'd used every tool she had to find him, but she had been unsuccessful, and that was disturbing.
Why had Quinn felt the need to vanish so completely? It was one thing to walk out on her, to break up, to be done with their relationship. But what about the rest of his life? Where had he gone and why? Had his disappearance had something to do with the explosion?
She drew in a breath and let it out, the memories churning her stomach. She didn't need to find Quinn; she needed to find the bomber. She pulled her jacket more closely around her, feeling a chill that went deep into her bones.
Forcing herself to move, she continued down the path, seeing three girls huddled together, arms around each other. One of them was crying. They were young but so much older than they'd been yesterday when their school had probably felt like a safe place, when their biggest problems had been midterms and what to wear to parties on the weekend. Now they would be changed forever.
Her steps slowed as she neared the auditorium, the scene feeling familiar. Not that she had any personal recollection from the blast. She'd been unconscious when they'd brought her out, but she'd studied the photos in the FBI file many times.
As she neared the scene, she saw a cluster of FBI agents. In the middle of that group was Rob Carpenter. Rob was a stocky man with short, dark hair, a square face and piercing brown eyes. He was in his late forties and was a single-minded, ambitiously determined agent. Sometimes, his eye for political capital impeded his investigations. But he was a smart man, and she hoped that his promotion to running the San Francisco office had lessened his hunger for power and that they could work together. She needed in on this investigation.
Rob met her gaze and broke away from the group. "Caitlyn. I'm sorry about the circumstances, but it's good to see you again. You got here fast."
"I caught the first flight."
"I'm not surprised. When I heard about the blast this morning, your face popped into my head, along with all those conversations we had about what happened before."
"What can you tell me about today?" she asked, wanting to focus on the present.
"The device was placed in the bushes outside the front door to the auditorium. It was set off just after eight o'clock. Five students and a teacher who were standing about ten feet from the entrance were injured; none appear to be critical."
"Anyone taking credit?"
"Not yet."
"Were there events scheduled in the auditorium today?"
"Yes. There was a climate symposium supposed to start at nine. I'm not sure if the device went off prematurely or if the bomb was meant to stop the event from happening at all."
Her nerves tightened. The tie to an environmental climate symposium was disturbing. "Who was supposed to speak?"
"Representatives from three companies: the Freeman Group, Alancor, and Lexitech, as well as student leaders from Bolton's environmental group who call themselves Green Citizens for Change."
"Lexitech is a subsidiary of Carlson Industries."
"I'm aware." He glanced down at notes on his phone. "Kevin Reilly was the speaker from Lexitech. We contacted him, but he did not take our call. His assistant let us know that he'd been in the car on his way to the school when he heard about the explosion. He immediately turned around and went home. Any further questions should be directed to their corporate counsel."
"Why would he want us to talk to Lexitech lawyers when he was a potential victim?" she asked.
"My question as well. Perhaps you can use your family connections to get more information."
"Of course. I don't know if you know this, but Kevin Reilly went to school here at the same time I did. He's probably shaken up, knowing he could have been in the building."
"It sounds like you're the person to talk to him."
"What about the environmental group? Any history of violence?"
"It doesn't look that way, but the investigation has just begun. The group is local, not tied to any national organizations. According to the dean, they have approximately a hundred members. The leader is a woman, Taylor Perkins. She has already done a preliminary interview. She appeared horrified and scared. Some of the injured students were part of her group."
"I'll need access to all the interviews and the list of attendees, if there is one."
"Of course." He gave her a sharp look. "I'm happy to have your help, Caitlyn, but I need you to work closely with my team at all times. Is that clear?"
"Yes. I wouldn't have it any other way."
He gave her a small smile of disbelief. "Right. You have a tendency to follow your instinct more than your orders."
"Which has helped me solve many cases. What can you tell me about the device itself?"
"Homemade, not particularly sophisticated, which is why it didn't cause a tremendous amount of damage. This could have been worse."
She'd hated hearing that comment during her recovery. For her, the explosion had been horrific, and for those who had died as bad as it could be. But she didn't need to call Rob out on his careless words.
"Caitlyn." Emi Sakato joined them with a smile. "It's good to see you again."
"You, too." Emi was a stunning woman of Japanese descent, who had been on the team in Miami when she'd worked there. "I didn't realize you were in San Francisco."
"Since last year."
"Emi will be your contact, Caitlyn," Rob interjected. "I'll leave her to catch you up. I need to get back to the office." He gave her one last warning look. "Don't make me regret allowing you into this investigation. I remember how obsessed you were five years ago. Stay focused on what happened today, not when you were a student here."
"How are you, Caitlyn?" Emi asked, as Rob left them alone. There was a concerned gleam in her brown eyes.
"I'm hanging in there," she admitted. "I've investigated dozens of bomb blasts, but not here, not where it happened. It feels surreal."
"Maybe we'll finally get you some justice."
"I hope so. I have a gut feeling this bomb is connected to the last one. The climate symposium is a red flag. Is there any security footage of the bomber?"
"No. The cameras in front of the auditorium and nearby buildings were hacked, so we could not see who placed the bomb, nor the moment it exploded, but we're checking every other camera on campus and in the vicinity. The cyber team is also working on the hack to see if t
hey can trace it."
"Eyewitnesses?"
"The students who were closest to the blast are in the hospital. We haven't been able to speak to them yet, but we've talked to many who came to the area immediately after the explosion. One woman told me that her sister was here at the time of the last explosion. Her name is Allison Sullivan."
She stiffened. "There was a Lauren Sullivan in the LNF Army. Allison is her sister?"
"That's what she said. Allison said she never thought it would happen again. Did you know Lauren?" Emi asked.
"I did. And when I reopened the case five years ago, she was my first call. Lauren was the reason my boyfriend wasn't with me at the event. Lauren had changed the time of their study group. She was his alibi."
Emi's eyes widened. "That's interesting. I remember you talking about the case when we worked together, but I'm a little hazy on the details. Was Lauren cooperative when you spoke to her five years ago?"
"No, but she never liked me much. Lauren had a crush on my boyfriend, Quinn Kelly. She saw me as a rival or the reason my boyfriend wasn't spending as much of his time with the group."
"The bureau cleared your boyfriend of any involvement, right?"
"They didn't clear him, but they didn't charge him."
"And then he disappeared? Did you ever find him?"
"No. Although, I haven't actually looked for him in a few years. I had to let go of my obsession. It was dragging me down."
"I heard you're working for Flynn MacKenzie now—lucky girl."
"I am lucky. Flynn is great and our task force is amazing. We get a lot of leeway that I never had before."
"Must be nice. Rob still has a tight grip on every investigation run through our office. He meant what he said earlier, Caitlyn. If you go off on your own or step out of bounds, he'll boot you off this case without a second thought."
"I understand. But we all have the same goal. I don't expect any problems. Can you text me Allison's information? I'd like to speak to her."
"Of course," Emi replied, as they exchanged numbers. "I'll be heading back to San Francisco now. What's your plan?"
"I'm going to stay here for a while, and then I'll come in."
"See you later."
As Emi left, Caitlyn turned her gaze to the destruction. The rubble, the smoke, the damage sent another wave of nausea through her. Somewhere in her mind, the horror of what she'd gone through still lived, still plagued her, still gnawed away at any sense of control she thought she had over her life, as if to remind her that whatever she had could be taken away at any moment.
But she didn't need the reminder. She could never trust in the future. She only had this moment, this day. That was it.
As she looked away from the building, she saw a gathering crowd of onlookers, mostly students with shocked expressions, which brought her back to Allison Sullivan. Was it simply a coincidence that Lauren's younger sister had been near the scene of this explosion? It had to be. She would have been a little kid at the time of the first bomb.
Among the group of students was someone who didn't quite fit in.
Her heart skipped a beat. The man was tall. He had on jeans and a dark-blue jacket, a baseball cap on his head and sunglasses, although there wasn't any sun. There was something about him…the way he stood, the power of his body. His head turned. It felt like he was looking right at her. Then he suddenly swiveled around and hurried away.
Had he seen her watching him?
It took her too many seconds to move. By the time she did, he'd vanished behind the science building.
She broke into a jog. When she got to the nearest parking lot, she saw a dark SUV shoot out of the lot. She was too far away to get a license plate. But there were cameras all around the school, and one of those would have his plate.
Had it been Quinn?
Her heart pounded out of her chest at that thought.
Why would Quinn come to this scene now? Had she been wrong about him all these years? Had he been involved back then? Was he involved now?
Chapter Three
As Caitlyn walked back to the auditorium, her mind raced with a million thoughts. She needed to run that license plate, but Emi had already left, and Rob would see her chasing down Quinn as a conflict of interest. She jogged back across campus, not stopping until she got to her vehicle. Once inside, she called Lucas. "I need some help," she told him. "And I need to keep it unofficial for now."
"That was fast," he replied. "What can I do?"
She appreciated his willingness to help her without asking questions, but that's how her team operated, with complete trust in each other. "I need security camera footage from Bolton."
"At the time of the explosion?"
"No, in the last hour. I'm looking for a dark SUV exiting Lot C by the science building about seven minutes ago. The driver was male, thirties, wearing a baseball cap, blue jacket, and jeans."
"I'll be in touch."
As Lucas ended the call, her phone buzzed, and her mother's name flashed across the screen. It was the sixth time her mom had called since the morning, each voicemail growing more and more worried.
"Hello, Mom," she said, picking up the call.
"Finally," her mother replied, relief in her voice. "Have you heard? Or is that a dumb question?"
"I've heard. I'm at Bolton now."
"I suspected you would be. What does the FBI know?"
"Nothing yet. There was a climate symposium scheduled today, with Lexitech on the panel."
"Your father told me Kevin was supposed to speak. Thank God he wasn't there when the bomb went off. Do you think he was the target? Was this about Lexitech, about Carlson Industries?"
"I don't know, Mom. Maybe. What does Dad think?"
"He's been at the office all day. He has said little to me except not to worry."
"He always tells you that."
"He tries to protect me," her mother admitted. "What do you think, Caitlyn?"
"I don't know, but I will find out."
Her mother sighed. "I thought you were finally done with all that. I was hoping you had moved on."
"I had moved on, but this is too close to what happened before. I need to find out if there's a connection."
"Haven't you given up too much of your life already in pursuit of a justice you may never get?"
"I'm not giving up anything. I'm doing my job."
"A dangerous job. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt again. Your father is worried, too. He's afraid you'll let your emotions cloud your judgment."
"Well, he's never had a lot of confidence in my abilities," she said dryly. In her family, it had always been about her two older brothers, at least for her dad. Baxter and Spencer had gotten on board with the family business right out of college, while she had always wanted something different. That had put a distance between them that only increased over the years.
"That's not true, Caitlyn. Your father is very proud of you."
She let her mother's lie go untouched. "I need to go, Mom."
"If you're at Bolton, you're close. Why don't you come here tonight? We can have dinner, and you know your room is always waiting for you."
"I don't know my plans yet."
"You have to eat. Why not eat here?"
"I will try. It depends on how the investigation goes."
"Dinner will be at seven thirty. I want you to make it. And, honey…"
"What?"
"Have you been in touch with Quinn?"
"No."
"I hope it stays that way. He wasn't good for you. The way he disappeared when you were hurt…well, it just made little sense."
"You don't have to worry."
"I hope not. You saw nothing but a halo around Quinn's head, but your father and I saw the devil inside him."
"I have to go, Mom."
"I'll see you at dinner."
She ended the call without bothering to confirm. Maybe she'd make it to dinner, maybe she wouldn't. Seeing her parents was not her pri
ority at this moment.
Her phone buzzed once more. It was Lucas. "That was fast. Did you find anything?"
"Yes. The SUV is registered to Michael Wainscott."
His words surprised her. "Really?" She'd been expecting to hear Quinn's name. Maybe she'd been wrong.
"I only did a cursory search, but his address is 16 Pomegranate Lane, Dillon Beach, CA. He has no record, no parking tickets, nothing."
"Birthdate?"
"September 5th. He's thirty-five years old."
She frowned. Quinn had been born in October and was thirty-three. Maybe it hadn't been him. Maybe her imagination had seen what it wanted to see and not what was there.
"Do you need more?" Lucas asked.
"Not at the moment. I'll take it from here."
"All right. How's it going up there?"
"It's just starting."
"The investigation or the explosions?"
His question gave her pause. Was this a one-and-done blast? Or was there more to come?
"I wish I knew."
"Good luck."
"Thanks." As she set her phone down on the console, she debated her options. Dillon Beach was thirty minutes away. Would it be a fool's errand? Would she be wasting valuable time chasing down a lead to a man who might have absolutely no connection to Quinn or to the blast?
She remembered the way he'd looked at her, then hustled away from the crowd, speeding out of the lot. Even if he hadn't been Quinn, this man might be someone worth finding out more about.
Quinn walked into MacDuff's, a roadside Irish pub in Dillon Beach, just before one. It was a popular stopping point for tourists and bikers heading up the coast, and for the locals of the small coastal community. He particularly liked MacDuff's, because the fish and chips and shepherd's pie reminded him of his childhood. While he hadn't had lunch, his stomach was churning too much to consider food. Instead, he settled in at the bar and ordered a shot of Jameson, his favorite Irish whiskey, from Seamus, the sixty-something bartender, who in some small way also reminded him of his dad. Not that his father had gotten anywhere close to his sixties. But that wasn't unusual for the small town in Northern Ireland where he'd grown up.
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