“Okay, just the contents of his trunk, then. What, exactly, did you find?”
“Four boxes of RDX, taken from the ChemEx ammunition plant that was robbed about ten days ago.”
The picture wasn’t coming into focus yet. “So how much RDX was stolen from the ammunition plant?”
“A lot more than the four boxes we found, plus some TNT. But it looks like the rest were at Trudeau Hall.”
There it was. The line connecting the dots. “Any evidence that my client was near the concert hall before the rally?”
“The case is still fluid,” Borden said.
“And you had a warrant to search his car?”
“Yes, I had sent someone to get it from the DA’s office, but before it got to us, Webb gave us permission to search the car.”
“Not something a guy would do if he knew his trunk was full of stolen RDX. I want to see the warrant, anyway.”
“We’ll get it to you after the interview.”
“And what prompted you to pull him over?”
“We had a tip.”
She frowned. “A tip that Dustin Webb had explosives in his trunk?”
“Yes. And that he was involved in the bombing.”
“Who gave you that tip?”
“It was anonymous, but obviously it played out. We have a building with a lot of dead people just a few minutes away.”
She couldn’t let them keep making that connection. “Is he being charged with terrorism?”
“Not yet.”
“I don’t think I have to tell you that there’s a huge leap from finding four boxes of plastic explosives in his car to connecting him to a horrific bombing in a crowded concert hall.”
“It’s not my job to make his crimes make sense to you.”
She sighed. “Where is he?”
“I’ll get him for you. Wait here.”
At first Jamie paced anxiously across the small floor. Then she resolved not to let her emotions betray her. She sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area and pulled her computer out of her briefcase. She paired it with her phone’s hotspot and pulled up Dustin’s rap sheet. She scanned it quickly. No arrests since the misdemeanors in his teen years—one for disturbing the peace on graduation night, and the other for possession of half a marijuana joint when he’d been pulled over for speeding. She remembered both of those times.
He had attended two years of community college and a year at a state university, living at home to save money, until there was a snafu with his financial aid. He’d worked odd jobs, trying to save enough to return to college. It was an uphill battle, so he’d finally joined the army, thinking that would get him back on track. According to the databases she accessed, nothing illegal had happened since. He’d had two deployments to Afghanistan in the Ordnance Corps of the army, and he’d eventually finished school after an honorable discharge.
He’d started a business here five years ago installing commercial security systems. It was called GreyWebb Securities.
“Ms. Powell?”
She looked up and saw Borden coming back. She closed her computer, slipped it into her case, and stood.
“He’s in Interview Room 3.”
She went back to the interview rooms she had visited a few times before and found Room 3. She saw him through the small vertical window in the door and hesitated a moment.
He hadn’t changed much in fifteen years, though today he had a light stubble beard. He hadn’t been processed yet, so he still wore his own clothes—jeans, a Nike T-shirt, and scuffed sneakers.
She couldn’t help her faint smile as she opened the door. “Dustin.”
He looked at her, and she saw a flash of who he used to be in his eyes. “Hey, kiddo.”
She quenched the urge to hug him as she stepped inside. No doubt, they were being watched. Dustin sat on one of the chairs at the metal table, and she wondered if they’d given him the chair with two of the legs shorter than the others. They loved throwing their subjects off balance to distract them.
A bruise from his eyebrow to the crest of his cheekbone caught her eye. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Her professional instincts told her to rein in her feelings, to sit down at the table and start asking questions. But there were instincts that had been there before adulthood. Following those instead, she went to sit in the chair beside him, on the side where she could see the bruise more clearly.
He met her eyes as she sat down. “I’m in deep, huh?”
The tension of her emotions drove all rational thought from her mind. “Yeah, you are. What did they do to you?”
“Nothing,” Dustin said. “They were just in a real big hurry to put those zip ties on. I might have gotten a little concrete burn.”
“Did you resist arrest?”
“No,” he said. “I did what they told me.”
“Good.” She got up and set her briefcase on the table that was bolted to the floor, then turned back to him. “I was mad at you for years for not calling me, but I never thought your first phone call would happen like this.”
He shrugged. “I always did have great timing.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, then finally he said, “You look great, kiddo.”
“So do you.” Her throat closed for a second, and she swallowed hard. “Dustin, what happened?”
“They pulled me over—”
“No. What really happened? Why you?”
“Jamie, if I knew, I’d tell you. I installed the security system at ChemEx. It was complicated and elaborate and took months. Then there was that theft. My partner and I were questioned after it because we had access, but we told them the truth. I have never taken anything from them and never would.”
“Do you know about the bombing?”
He frowned. “There was a TV on the wall when they brought me into the station tonight, and I could see that something had happened, but I didn’t see much. A bombing?”
“It was at the Ed Loran rally at Trudeau Hall.”
The stricken look on his face revealed his amazement. “Jamie, they don’t think I . . .”
“People are dead. Lots of them. They’re still at the scene. It happened a little before they stopped you.”
“Wait a minute . . . I didn’t do anything . . . I don’t know who . . .”
“Dustin, this is really serious. You never should have let them search your vehicle.”
“They had a warrant there shortly after I said okay, anyway. It was inevitable. I didn’t have any idea there was something in my trunk . . . God help me. They think I made the bomb.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think. It matters what they can prove.” But she knew better than that. The concept of innocent until proven guilty was growing more antiquated by the day. “Tell me everything you did today, starting with waking up.”
He described a routine day, getting up, drinking coffee, walking his dog, inspecting a business and writing a quote, getting a hamburger for lunch, going back to the office.
She jotted it all down, then looked at him. “You have a dog?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I have to find somebody to feed him and walk him. Maybe he needs to be boarded until I get out of here.”
“I can take care of boarding him. You’ll want to get him out of there before they get a warrant to search your house.”
He told her where she could find a key and gave her the name of the vet who could board him. “Okay, now let’s go over everything you told them before I got here.”
“I told them those explosives weren’t mine. That I didn’t know how they got there. After I talked to you, I shut up. But four boxes full of RDX? Come on! They’re not mine! And someone planted them in my car for a reason.”
Jamie leaned forward. “Have you had any experience with RDX?”
“Yes, in the army. When you mix it with certain plasticizers and waxes, it’s stable enough to handle pretty roughly and withstand he
at and cold. I got pretty familiar with it so I could detonate bombs we needed to neutralize.” He shook his head and looked up at the stained ceiling. “I’m the perfect scapegoat. So convenient.”
“Did the security system at the plant have video?”
“Yes, but after the theft, we looked through it all and didn’t find anything. There was a blip in the footage for about forty-five minutes the night of the theft, so whoever it was knew how to disable the cameras.”
“Someone walked out of that plant with RDX that wound up in your car. And if the bomb at the concert hall was made with RDX . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Dustin, there are going to be other charges. They think you made and planted the bomb. They’ll want to grill you about who else was involved. We’re talking terrorism.”
“If they blame me, they’ll probably pull Travis in, too.”
“Who’s Travis?”
“My business partner and best friend. But this comes at the worst possible time for him. His wife is dying of cancer.”
Jamie wouldn’t let her mind linger on that. “How long have you been in business with him?”
“We worked together at a security tech company after we were honorably discharged, and a couple of years ago, we started our own business.”
“So you were in the Ordnance Corps together?”
“That’s right. The government taught us how to assemble a bomb so we could protect our soldiers from them, then they turn that knowledge against us for reasons that have nothing to do with us. Travis has been in the hospital with his wife since she went in two weeks ago, and I can account for every minute of my time today. Trust me, Travis didn’t sneak out of the hospital to pull a heist at the ammunition plant. This whole thing is ludicrous.”
“The bombs could have been planted yesterday or last night.”
“Then I’ll account for that time, too! I didn’t do it.”
She locked into his eyes for a long moment, trying to see any deception he might be harboring there. But Dustin had never been a liar. “I know you didn’t.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “How could you know? For all you know—”
“I do know,” she said. “But we have to fight this. Can you afford to hire me?”
He frowned. “Yes. You don’t have to worry about getting paid.”
“I need to know because I work for a firm. Personally I’d be happy to do it pro bono, but if you’re paying, then I’ll have all the resources of my firm behind me.”
“I can mortgage my house if I have to, and I have some savings and investments. But if you don’t want any part of this, I understand,” he said. “I don’t expect you to put your career and reputation on the line. This is going to get ugly.”
She blinked back tears. “I want so much to get you out of this,” she said. “But this is big. You may need someone more experienced. Someone who’s handled cases like this before. I take criminal cases, but usually they’re white-collar crimes. This is bigger than anything I’ve done.”
“I want you,” Dustin whispered. “I couldn’t go through this with anyone else.”
That was all she needed to hear.
“Jamie, I swear. I’ve never hurt anybody intentionally, and as much trouble as I was in my teens, I cleaned up my act in the army. I’ve never made anybody mad enough to want me put away. I don’t know anyone who would blow up a building with people in it.”
“Did you follow Ed Loran’s campaign?”
“No, but I wasn’t against him, either. I never gave him a thought. I didn’t even know he was having a rally.”
“Have you ever posted about him on social media? Anything at all?”
“This may shock you,” he said, “but I don’t do social media.”
She didn’t tell him she had checked social media for any trace of him many times. “Good. That’ll help.”
“Everybody is going to think I did it. Killed those people . . . The ones lying in the hospital with burns and injuries . . . their families . . . Everybody will think I did it.”
She blinked back the mist in her eyes. “Not if we get you out of here fast. Your bond hearing’s tomorrow. The media may not hear about your arrest before then. If we can get proof of your innocence before they even know you’ve been arrested, then maybe we can head off the worst of the publicity.”
He rubbed his face. “It’s still going to be ugly. It could destroy you, too, by association. If you want out, just tell me. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“You always had my back,” she said. “I’m going to have yours. Be careful what you say during the interview. They’re not just looking for information. They’re looking for things to use against you. If I need to stop you, I will. I’ll stop them, too, if I don’t like where they’re going. But you have to follow my lead and listen when I tell you to stop talking.”
He nodded. “I will.”
She got up and opened the door. The two detectives who had been sitting a few yards away ambled in and took their seats at the table. She hoped Dustin was ready for this.
07
On her way home from the jail, after Dustin had been interviewed for hours, Jamie called Zeke, one of the private investigators who contracted with her firm.
The phone rang four times before Zeke picked up. “Jamie Powell, you better tell me something good, because I don’t like trouble when I ain’t even got my shoes on.”
“Then put them on now,” she said. “I’m sorry to call you when you’re home, but I need you to drop everything and do some work for me.”
“I don’t know,” the gruff ex-cop said over the bluetooth speaker in her car. “I got some other cases going. I’m short on manpower.”
“It’s an emergency,” she said. “I’d consider it a personal favor, and it may only take a day or two.”
“A personal favor? You trying to catch your boyfriend with another woman?”
“No,” she said. “I have a close friend and client who’s getting framed for the bombing.”
“Whoa!” Zeke said. “You want me to help him?”
“No, I want you to help me. I need for you to go everywhere he’s been and pull security video. I’m trying to establish his alibis for the last few days, and also see if we can catch anyone planting evidence in his car.”
“You got a list?”
“Yes. I’ll email it to you. His arraignment is tomorrow, and I’m going to try to meet with the prosecutor in the morning. I’d like to have this info before that.”
“So an all-nighter?”
“You know I’m good for it.”
“Okay, Jamie,” he said. “I’ll pull some of my people off of other cases. But you’re gonna owe me one.”
She pulled into her mother’s driveway as he cut off the phone call. She sat there for a moment, sending Zeke the list she had taken from Dustin after his interview today. She whispered a prayer that Zeke would come up with something she could use with the prosecutor tomorrow. She couldn’t present evidence at the arraignment, but she knew this prosecutor, Louis Dole. She had worked for him for two years right out of law school. If she could show him compelling evidence before they went to court, he might agree not to contest Dustin’s bond.
She sat in her car for another long moment and took a deep breath before she saw her daughter. She should have gone by Dustin’s house first to feed and walk his dog, but Avery would be getting ready for bed by now. She could go afterward, feed him and take him outside, then leave him there until the kennel opened in the morning.
Her gaze strayed through the darkness to the house next door, where Dustin’s aunt Pat still lived. She thought back to when she was thirteen and he was seventeen, and they’d sat between the yards as the moon came up, talking like equals.
He had been like a big brother to her, schooling her in the dangers of dating, teaching her about types of boys to avoid. There had always been a cautious affection in his time with her, though he’d never touched her.
Now it was her turn to help him.
She turned off her car and went into the house. The living room was dimly lit with one lamp, and a TV played quietly over the fireplace. She heard her mother’s and daughter’s voices in the back.
She went down the hallway to the room her mother had fixed up for Avery even before she was born. “Good, you’re still up.”
“Mommy!” Avery sat up in bed, reaching for her.
“I’ve been trying to get her to bed for an hour,” her mother said, sliding off Avery’s bed. She was wearing a Bon Jovi T-shirt and faded jeans, and her hair was tousled. “First we read a chapter of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, then some of Charlotte’s Web, and now she wants me to sing.”
“I’ll take over, Mom.”
“Is Dustin all right?”
“He will be, I hope.”
“Are you staying the night?”
“No, I have to keep working. His arraignment’s tomorrow, and I need to go over a bunch of things. Avery can sleep here.”
“I want you to be here, Mommy.”
“I know, but I can’t tonight. You love sleepovers here. Maybe Mimi will make you pancakes in the morning before school.”
“Only if she gets to sleep soon,” Jamie’s mother said, then left the room.
Jamie stepped out of her shoes, climbed into bed with Avery, and slipped under the covers.
“What’s wrong with your friend?”
“Dustin? Did Mimi tell you about him?”
“She said he used to live next door.”
“Yes, and he’s in trouble. Someone’s blaming him for something he didn’t do. I have to help him.”
“She said you had a crush on him.”
Jamie frowned. “My mother said that? It’s not true. He was a very close friend. Like a brother.”
“He sounds nice.”
Jamie kissed her. “Go to sleep now. Close your eyes, and I’ll sing. But only one verse.”
“Three verses,” Avery said.
“One.”
“Two, please!”
“None.”
“Okay, one.”
Jamie grinned and stroked Avery’s forehead until her eyes closed. She started to sing softly, an old song her mother used to sing to her. By the time she got to the end, Avery was sound asleep.
Aftermath Page 4