Color stained Bethany’s cheeks as she described how they began to undress. Apparently they hadn’t progressed far when the smell of gasoline and smoke reached them.
“I’m terrified of fire,” she said. “When I realized I couldn’t get out the door, I panicked. Carl opened the window and boosted me through it. The cabin blew up before I even had time to turn around to help him.”
She’d fled across the field in fear before she realized Carl must still be inside. Hearing sirens, she’d decided to leave rather than return to find out what had happened. “I knew he’d be taken care of and I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“You weren’t hurt?” Sam asked.
“I got a lot of glass cuts.” She indicated her long sleeves and pants. “Fortunately none of them on my face.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I called in sick for the afternoon. But people had their suspicions about Carl and me and they know he got injured. I’ve been getting funny looks all morning.”
Sam prepared himself to ask the next, delicate question when Nora beat him to it. Indicating the woman’s wedding ring, she said, “Any chance your husband did this?”
“Andy? No, of course not!” She looked genuinely horrified.
“Jealousy can spur people to do strange things,” Nora prompted.
“No, he wouldn’t. Besides, he couldn’t. Andy’s in Houston on business.”
“You’re certain?” Sam asked.
“Well, yes.” Bethany hugged herself protectively. “Does he have to find out about Carl and me?”
“We’ll need to confirm his whereabouts,” Nora told her. “And Courage Bay is a small town in some ways. It would be better if you broke the news to him yourself before he hears it elsewhere.”
“In fact, we need you to call him right now,” Sam said. “If you’ll give me the phone number, I’ll place the call myself.” He wanted to monitor what Bethany told her husband. If he had been the bomber, or if the two turned out to be conspirators, it could reveal a lot. “Did you say his name was Andy?”
“Andrew.” Uneasily, the secretary produced a phone number for a hotel in Houston. Going through the switchboard, Sam asked for Andrew Peters. After hearing the man’s voice, he handed over the phone.
Listening on an extension, he heard Bethany explain that she’d escaped from a small explosion yesterday. Then, painfully, she admitted what she’d been doing at the motel.
Sam didn’t enjoy eavesdropping on such a personal conversation. He took no voyeuristic interest in other people’s messy lives. But investigations into murders and attempted murders often got messy.
Andrew Peters sounded genuinely shocked and upset. His mood didn’t improve when Sam spoke up, identified himself as an arson investigator and began asking questions about Andrew’s whereabouts on the previous day. Obviously taken aback to realize he might be considered a suspect, the man provided details and the names of witnesses. Since he’d been in business meetings all day, that wasn’t difficult.
When Bethany got a chance to resume speaking, she begged her husband’s forgiveness. Sam felt a twinge of sympathy for what lay ahead of her, but not too much. It had been her choice to break her marriage vows.
After she promised to meet her husband’s plane the next day, Bethany hung up.
Nora handed the secretary a box of tissues. “Thank you. I know that was difficult but it did help.”
“Just a few more questions,” Sam said.
“Is that really necessary?” the woman choked out.
Unfortunately, it was. “We understand Mr. Garcola flew his own plane,” he said. “Have you seen anything to indicate he might have been involved in illicit activities—say, smuggling or industrial espionage?”
Bethany paled. “Oh, my gosh, I hope not. I don’t know anything about it. I love working at this company. If he was mixed up in something like that, it could cost me my job.”
“Do you know if anyone held a grudge against Carl?” Nora put in.
“Maybe his wife—I mean, if she suspected he was cheating,” the secretary said. “Other than that, no, although it’s a little scary.”
“What do you mean?” Sam prompted.
“All these people dying,” Bethany said. “And now Carl getting hurt.”
“All what people?” Did she see a connection among the bombing attacks specifically, or was she referring to the number of deaths that had occurred citywide? Sam wondered. “Please explain yourself, Mrs. Peters. We’re dealing with homicides here.”
Instead of answering, Bethany pushed back from the table. “I’m not going to say any more. Like I told you, I love working at this company. I just went through a horrible experience with my husband right in front of you. Aren’t you satisfied?”
“We’re trying to find out who did this,” Nora said.
“Well, find out from somebody else,” the woman replied. “I had no idea Carl might be mixed up with anything illegal or that this was something more than a jealous wife giving him a hard time. I should have gotten a lawyer in the first place.”
With that, the secretary ran out of the room.
NORA BELIEVED they might have wandered around the corridors of Esmee Engines for hours seeking Ramon Nunez’s office if she hadn’t stopped to ask directions from a workman in blue overalls. Although Sam had insisted they didn’t need help, he seemed relieved.
Did the man always have to be so stubborn? And he’d certainly botched the situation with Bethany. Still, Nora conceded that he’d gotten caught up with the seriousness of the case and forgotten the sensibilities of his audience. She didn’t want to judge him too harshly.
Besides, she appreciated the calm, masterful way he faced down the president’s personal assistant. After trying to stall them, the woman yielded to his insistence and reluctantly buzzed her boss, then ushered them into his expansive quarters.
Nunez rose to greet them. “Is there a problem, officers?”
“You tell me.” Sam’s belligerent tone seemed perfectly on the mark this time. “Mrs. Peters let slip something about ‘all these people’ getting hurt before she clamped the lid down. What’s that about?”
During the pause that followed, Nora hoped the president didn’t also plan to call a lawyer. It came as a relief when he gave an apologetic shrug. “I assure you, I did answer your questions truthfully.”
“But not completely,” she said.
“I suppose not.” Ramon’s jaw worked as he obviously wrestled with his conscience. Finally, he said, “You know the corporate mentality. We’re supposed to avoid negative publicity if we can.”
“Talk to us,” Sam demanded.
Remaining on his feet, Nunez leaned against the desk. “I didn’t expect this kind of development when I got transferred here a little over a year ago.”
“From where?” Nora asked.
“Wonderworld headquarters in Atlanta. That’s our parent company.”
“Wonderworld?” She hadn’t paid much attention when she’d seen the name in the business section of the local paper. There’d been no mention of it in any of her case files.
“It’s the multinational corporation that owns Esmee Engines and a couple of other subsidiaries around here,” he explained.
She guessed what they were before he spoke again. As for Sam, he mouthed the names along with Nunez: Finder Electronics and the Speedman Company.
“We aren’t covering anything up, I assure you.” The president spread his hands placatingly. “I knew there were inquiries about Lance Corker’s death, but as far as any criminal conspiracy being involved, you people played your cards close to your chest. I read about Patty Reese and Julius Straus in the newspaper, that’s all. As far as I knew until today, these were unrelated, accidental deaths.”
“Until today?” Sam repeated.
The president indicated a copy of the morning newspaper on his desk. “Carl getting critically injured in an explosion—well, that’s too much of a coincidence. Then when you two
showed up, I figured this must be serious. I put in a call to headquarters but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Lucky for us,” Nora muttered.
“Listen, Mr. Nunez, the best thing you can do for your company right now is to cooperate.” Sam’s resonant tone gave his words emphasis. “We have no reason to suspect any wrongdoing by Wonderworld or its subsidiaries, but obstruction of justice would be a serious charge.”
“Not to mention that whoever’s doing this may not be finished,” Nora put in. “We don’t want to see anyone else killed.”
“Agreed.” The president regarded them cautiously. “What can I do to help?”
“Can you find out about any projects that might have linked these individuals?”
“It might take a day or so,” Nunez said.
Sam handed him a business card, and Nora added hers. “We’d also like to know about lawsuits that involved the victims, or anything they shared in common.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Nunez promised. “Headquarters can fire me if they want to, but the safety of my workers comes first. Besides, if someone’s targeting Wonderworld employees, I could be in their sights.”
“Good point.” Sam shook hands with the man, and Nora followed suit.
Afterward, they requested to see Carl Garcola’s office. Nunez allowed them free rein except to the password-protected computer, because it had access to confidential company data. As a precaution, they collected a boxful of papers, although Nora saw nothing that aroused her suspicion.
When they were on the road, she said, “I feel like we’re finally making progress. But I’m not convinced Nunez won’t buckle if Wonderworld puts the screws to him.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind back again if we push hard enough. I don’t think he’d be too happy about spending a few nights in jail.” Sam’s phone rang. He pulled over and took out the instrument. “Prophet here.”
As he proceeded with a cryptic conversation, Nora wondered if she would ever again take the safety of cell phones for granted. Each time she heard one ring, she got a jolt of adrenaline.
“How’s the hamster doing?” Sam said into the phone.
The hamster? What kind of conversation was this, anyway?
His next line didn’t track at all, as far as she could tell. “Personally, I’m crazy about overcooked spaghetti, but I’m not sure about my partner.” He cleared his throat. “That’s a long story…I’m not sure…I’ll call you back.”
Nora didn’t say a word. Hamsters and overcooked spaghetti. That made an odd combination.
Sam flipped the phone shut. “That was my sister, Mary Orly. She teaches first grade and the kids had a near-tragedy this morning.” His joking tone took the edge off the words.
“Involving a hamster?” she inquired.
“Right.” Sheepishly, he went on. “Mr. Hamm escaped from his cage, gnawed through an electrical cord and gave himself a shock. He seems to be recovering but the kids are upset.”
She couldn’t restrain her curiosity. “What was the part about spaghetti?”
“She asked if I’d come over and talk about fire safety, electrical cords, that kind of thing. I’ve told her I’d be happy to address her class anytime I’m not tied up, and under the circumstances, she thinks having a guest speaker from the fire department should reassure them. She offered to treat me to lunch in the school cafeteria.”
Nora checked her watch. Almost time to eat. “I don’t mind if we stop by, but isn’t that the public information officer’s job?”
“Mary said a firefighter came out last month while her class was on a field trip,” Sam told her. “Since this is the last week of school, they don’t have time to schedule a return visit.”
“Then let’s get over there.”
Sam called his sister back and then related the conversation to Nora. Not only had Mary offered to buy them both lunch, she’d promised to throw in ice cream bars. That definitely made it a go, in Nora’s opinion.
Mariposa Elementary School lay in an aging residential area where Spanish-style stucco dwellings rubbed shoulders with 1920s bungalows. At the school, Sam removed a small suitcase from his trunk and carried it into the administration building, where he and Nora signed themselves in at the front desk.
Once approved, they exited through the back into an outdoor mall flanked by freestanding wings that housed classrooms. It had been ages since Nora visited an elementary school, since explosives experts didn’t go around performing demonstrations for kids.
The sound of childish voices drifting from the playground brought a rush of memories from her own school days. She’d been a tomboy, scrappy and quick to stand up for herself. That hadn’t always made her popular but it had made her strong.
“Do you visit here often?” she asked Sam.
“I come for special events to support my nephew.” A cluster of diminutive figures hurried past them, overshadowed by his tall frame. “Pete’s eight. His dad lives in San Francisco, so he can’t always make it for things like Back to School Night and the science fair. I do my best to fill in.”
“Your sister’s divorced?”
He gave a short nod. Divorces were never a happy situation, Nora reflected. One of her brothers, Kyle, had split up with his wife and it had wiped him out financially and emotionally for a long time.
Sometimes she wondered if marriage merited the risk. At least when you set out to disarm a bomb, you knew it would all be over, one way or the other, within a short time. Marriage meant taking a gamble that could cost you years of heartache.
She hadn’t had much interest in the subject since breaking up with Len. And although Nora had reached an age at which some women’s biological clocks sounded the alarm, she’d never felt any strong urge to have children. Watching Sam smile at two little girls skipping by tugged at her heart in a funny way, though.
A few steps further, they reached their destination. The woman who met them at the classroom door had dark-blond hair the same color as Sam’s, although her eyes were green, rather than gray, and she barely reached her brother’s shoulder. Her expression full of curiosity, Mary welcomed them both.
“Sam doesn’t usually work on a team,” she told Nora. “This is the first I’ve heard he has a partner.”
“We only got the news this morning.” Nora followed her into the room, with Sam bringing up the rear.
Two dozen bright faces turned toward them. Little figures wiggled at their desks and a book dropped to the floor with a thump.
Nora made a quick survey of the room. Crayoned pictures festooned the walls, along with a map of the world and posters promoting reading. In one corner, a hamster raced furiously on a wheel.
“This must be Mr. Hamm.” Sam crossed the room to examine the rodent. “Did anyone call the paramedics?”
A little girl giggled. A boy said solemnly, “I wanted to call Dr. Ripani. She treats my dog.”
“I know Lisa Ripani very well,” Sam responded.
“Because of your cats!” cried a pretty Latina girl.
Sam had a reputation in the fire department for rescuing stray cats and finding them homes. Obviously, the children also knew this. Nora gathered that Sam helped out in the classroom more than he’d let on.
She remembered her initial concern about cat hairs in his car. Since there weren’t any clinging to her clothing, she assumed he put the animals in a carrier before driving them anywhere. A wise move, since a panicky cat loose in a vehicle could cause an accident.
“Class, you remember my brother, Investigator Prophet,” Mary said. “He came here today to explain why Mr. Hamm got a shock and how you can be careful not to get one yourself. This is his partner…”
“Nora Keyes,” she introduced herself. “I’m a bomb squad specialist.”
A murmur of excitement rippled across the room. “Do you blow things up?” a boy called excitedly.
“Only in practice exercises,” she said. “Or if we recover illegal explosives and have to remote-detonate t
hem so they can’t hurt anyone.” She supposed her terminology might be a bit technical, but she’d found that children preferred being treated like adults.
“Did you ever get your hand blown off?” asked a little girl in pigtails. When everyone laughed, she blushed furiously. “I mean, you could have a bionic hand, couldn’t you?”
“Fortunately, I haven’t had any significant parts blown off yet,” Nora told her. She decided not to mention one occasion when she’d assisted her father and brothers in imploding a building scheduled for demolition and a blasting cap went off prematurely.
Anytime she started to get overconfident, she had only to remember the burns she’d suffered and the painful healing process. So perhaps the accident had been a blessing in disguise. But she didn’t like to parade her mishaps in public.
“Okay, hold on, guys.” Sam opened the suitcase, which he must carry around for occasions like this.
Out came a stack of fire-safety coloring books and handouts, a tan-and-yellow slicker and a yellow helmet fixed with a white reflector. When he donned them, Nora could picture him wearing that gear while dragging a hose up a ladder to rescue someone from a burning building.
She knew how it felt to be thrown over a man’s shoulder and carried fireman style; she’d played the role of victim in emergency exercises. Hanging over a guy’s shoulder two stories up wasn’t her idea of fun, but then, she’d never been carried by a man built quite like Sam.
She could imagine those strong muscles moving beneath her. Exhilaration replaced fear. Sam…smoke…heat…flames…
Obviously, she must be picturing herself in Hell, she reflected wryly.
Nora cleared her mind in time to hear him warning the kids about the dangers of electrical wires and sockets. As he spoke, he took the hamster from its cage and carried it to the front of the room.
“I don’t suppose we have to worry about Mr. Hamm playing with lighters or matches,” he told the class, “but if he ever ate a cigarette, it could kill him.” Heads nodded in understanding.
The little creature poked its way from one large cradling hand to the other, its whiskers twitching. Sam moved his empty hand lower and the hamster stepped onto it as if walking down stairs. One finger stroked the furry head and shoulders gently.
The Trigger Page 7