Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2 (4 page)

Skyler offered Krista an apologetic look. “You aren't the only person we'll talk to. There's a long list of people with access to this place who we'll thoroughly investigate. I'd appreciate your patience as it will take time to work the list to rule out any connection to you.”

Translated, Krista was a suspect and would be one for some time. If they dug deep enough into her assumed identity, they'd eventually discover her real name and her supposed role in Toby's death. Then her life would dissolve in chaos again. People would hurl the title murderer at her again. Add bomber to it. Taunt and embarrass her and Opa. Her throat closed with the thought, and she chugged her water under Darcie's watchful eyes.

“You can certainly rule out my Timbers as suspects,” Opa announced, taking the attention from her. “None of the players would ever be involved in such a thing.”

Krista had to smile at the staunch support of his team.

“Sorry, Otto.” Jake grinned. “We'll even have to check into the players.

Opa crossed his arms. “A waste of time, if you ask me. As it is a waste of time checking up on Krista and me, but I will give you Erwin's information so you can contact him to confirm our story.”

Determined not to let this team railroad her the way the other cops had, Krista fired a confident look at Skyler. “Do you honestly think I'd bring my grandfather along if I planned to bomb the stadium?”

Brady's brows rose toward thick blond hair. “You could have brought him along for cover. Then something went wrong. You couldn't get out in time and went running to Cash.”

Archer faced her. “If you're involved in this, Ms. Curry, it'll go easier on you if you tell us now.”

“No...I...” At the wall of stares from the team, the water she'd consumed turned to acid in her stomach. She closed her mouth and looked to Cash for his help.

His eyes that had been so warm and friendly, so interested earlier, were now filled with steely resolve.

Fine. Be that way.

She should've expected his lack of help. She'd trusted him to be on her side once, to rescue Opa, and he'd let her down by tending to the bomb first.

Even if the squad members seemed kind and compassionate at first, they were cops doing their jobs. Cops who didn't trust anyone. She cringed at the thought of the past interrogations. The questions fired at her. Badgering her. Accusing her. Slandering her in the press until no one believed in her innocence, even when they couldn't prove a thing against her.

No. She couldn't trust people like that. A man like that. Even if the bomber showed up on her doorstep to stop her from identifying him, she couldn't count on anyone else. She had to be prepared to protect herself and Opa from the monster willing to kill innocent people.

FIVE

C
ash didn't know what to think. Could he believe Krista's story? He looked out the window at her. She sat next to Otto just outside the restaurant, perching on the edge of the bench as if she wanted to bolt. Otto leaned back and crossed his ankles, giving Cash a good look at surprising lime-green sneakers. Cash could see the older guy was tired and wished Skyler would let the pair go home. But she insisted they stay in case the team came up with questions during a quick brainstorming session.

“So.” Skyler's no-nonsense tone brought Cash's attention back to the group. Her focus traveled around the table. “Give me your thoughts.”

Archer sat forward. “Though this is a real stereotype, being Caucasian makes the bomber less likely to be a terrorist.”

Skyler nodded. “But terrorists can be Caucasian, too. Especially ecoterrorists in a green state like Oregon. Still, they rarely resort to bombing, and I can't see an environmental reason for bombing the stadium.”

Jake shifted on the edge of the table, a frown drawing down his face. “If he
is
a terrorist, he'll take credit for his work in the next twenty-four hours or so.”

“Can't you just look up who bought the ticket for the suspect's seat number?” Darcie asked. “Wouldn't you then have his identity?”

Jake shook his head. “Someone who plants a bomb won't buy a ticket under his real name.”

“Plus, the heavy rain kept people away, leaving tons of empty seats in the covered area,” Cash added. “The bomber might have simply taken advantage of an empty seat.”

“What about the bomb itself?” Skyler asked. “Does it give you any thoughts on who we might be looking for?”

Cash nodded. “The bomb was rudimentary, but it did have an antiremoval device, so that speaks to some experience with explosives. Also, he used blocks of Semtex, which aren't easy to come by.” Cash shifted on his feet. “The question I think we need to be asking is, what did he hope to accomplish with the bomb? The backpack was placed by the stanchion holding up the roof. Maybe he wanted to take it down, but without tamping the bomb, it wouldn't likely happen.”

“Tamping?” Darcie asked.

“In layman's terms it means aiming the force of the blast in the direction you want it to go to make the explosion more effective.”

“Which tells us what exactly?” Jake asked.

“Either he's not very knowledgeable about bombs, or his intent was simply to kill someone in the seating area rather than damage the stadium. Of course, if he had a specific target, then he might've thought to add shrapnel to inflict the most damage, but he didn't.”

Brady looked up from a small piece of wood and a knife in his hands. A hyper guy, he often whittled to keep calm. “Setting a bomb is a pretty drastic action just to kill one or two people. I can think of many less risky ways to kill someone.”

Jake faced Skyler. “I'm assuming you'll look at security videos and request street cam, business and MAX footage. Not just for today but earlier on.”

She nodded. “Though I'd rather not involve the media in this, I'll also have them issue a plea to the public for any pictures or videos taken of the targeted seating section for our review. And we'll get a team on interviewing ticket holders.” She grabbed her pen. “What about potential suspects?”

“The obvious one is a stadium employee,” Archer said, his intense focus on Skyler. “And event crews or even concessions company staff. They'd have access and if they were unhappy with their work they'd have a motive, too.”

“Same with delivery people,” Jake tossed out. “Or recycling company employees who pick up green products.”

Skyler's pen raced across the paper.

Cash grinned. “And despite what Otto may think, we also can't rule out the players and coaches. Though I suspect Otto wouldn't mind if we limited our inquiries to the opposing team.”

Brady cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him. “Don't forget to add Ms. Curry and Otto.”

“Are you honestly liking them for this?” Cash asked. “I mean, we have no motive for her wanting to do this.”

Brady met Cash's gaze. “You haven't been in law enforcement all that long, but we all know—”

“The person who reports the crime—” Skyler finished writing and looked up “—is always a suspect until we can prove otherwise. And that includes finding the motive you're speaking of.”

“I'm not sure this counts on the motive thing,” Darcie said, “but Krista's wearing designer clothes. Not something she could afford on a preschool teacher's salary. And I didn't see a wedding ring so there's not likely a spouse to pay for the clothes.”

“She still could be married,” Archer said.

The thought left Cash more unsettled than he wanted to think about.

“Or divorced. Or widowed,” Jake added.

“Easy enough to find out. I'll ask.” Skyler stepped outside. Cash saw Krista's shoulders go up in a defensive posture at the question.

Was she hiding an involvement in the bombing, or did she simply hate personal questions?

Skyler returned. “Widowed. Four years ago.”

Cash sighed, drawing Jake's attention so Cash quickly moved on. “If we're looking at Krista for this, then we should also look into the woman who incited the crowd. I can check a stadium diagram for her seat number. It may not lead anywhere if she was dodging the rain, but it's worth a shot.”

“Once you locate the number, I'll make it a priority to find her.” Skyler looked around the group. “Any other suggestions or ideas?”

No one spoke.

“Okay, then.” Skyler tucked her notebook in her backpack. “As Jake said, I'll be teaming up with the city. We'll both assign considerable resources to the investigation, but with the number of people to be interviewed, it would be great if everyone volunteered time to help.”

“I'm game.” Brady hopped to his feet.

The others added their agreement.

“Great,” Skyler said. “If you'll email your schedules to me, I'll work you in the rotation. And thanks for the help.”

“That all?” Brady was clearly itching to get moving. Cash was surprised it had taken him this long to ask.

Jake nodded. “We're good to go.”

Brady shot for the door.

“I'll go tell Krista and Otto they're free to leave.” Cash headed outside before anyone tried to stop him, especially Skyler, who was coming his way. He stepped into the cold, damp air and zipped his jacket as he approached the pair.

The scent of popcorn lingering in the air spoke of fun and enjoyment, contradicting Otto's fatigued expression. He looked plumb worn-out and still had a long train ride.

Cash met Otto's gaze. “You two look like you could use a ride home instead of taking MAX.”

“No,” Krista said.

“That is most generous,” Otto said at the same time.

She frowned at him. “It's not necessary, Deputy Dixon.”

“It's Cash,” he said, not liking the formality of her tone for reasons he chose not to analyze. “Necessary or not, I want to help.”

“Thank you.” Otto smiled. “We will be glad to accept your offer. Might I use the restroom before we go?”

Cash ignored Krista's stare and nodded. “There's one in the restaurant.”

“I'll go with you.” Krista helped Otto rise and move back into the restaurant.

Skyler eyed the pair as they strolled by. After the door closed, she joined Cash. “What's going on?”

“With what?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“You and Ms. Curry know each other?”

“No.”

“But you find her attractive.”

“What red-blooded male wouldn't?” He held up a hand to stop Skyler from continuing. “Don't worry. I don't plan to do anything about it.”

“Please don't be offended that I asked about this.” She took a step closer. “You haven't been a deputy all that long, and I want to make sure you understand your role here.”

He smiled. “You mean other than the red-blooded-male thing?”

She frowned at him. “I'm serious here, Cash.”

So was he. He wasn't uncomfortable disagreeing with others on the team. That was the norm for him, but he
was
uncomfortable with his reason for disagreeing today. He couldn't clear Krista from suspicion just because she was pretty and kind to her grandfather. He needed to take a step back. To focus on the evidence in front of him as he'd been taught. To remember Brady spoke the truth—suspect the person who reported the crime until they were ruled out.

He leaned against the wall and let the night play in his memory. He saw Krista running toward him, gripping his arm, her terrified eyes looking up at Otto. “Krista's shock and fear at the discovery of the bomb were real. I'd stake my life on that, and I find it hard to believe she had any part in this.”

“Don't make a rookie mistake,” Skyler warned. “There are all kinds of reasons she could be involved and still be legitimately terrified.”

“Name one,” he challenged.

“She could've been working with a partner who stashed the backpack in the stadium earlier and it was her job to retrieve and place the bomb.”

“Otto didn't mention seeing her with a backpack and you have to agree he reads like a straight shooter.”

“I agree about Otto, but with his obsession with the game it's not hard to believe that he wouldn't notice Krista leaving her seat to retrieve the bomb.”

“Okay, say I buy that—which I don't—why would she bring Otto with her if she was going to plant a bomb?”

“He makes great cover for something like this.”

“Still, I don't see her risking his life.”

“Maybe she didn't think he was at risk. Her partner could have told her there would be more time for her to get out of the stadium, but when she saw the countdown on the cell phone, she realized she couldn't get Otto out in time.”

“Maybe.” Cash let the idea roll around in his head.

“Or maybe the partner said he only intended to damage the building and the bomb wouldn't go off until after everyone left for the night. Or he might not have told her about the cell phone and only mentioned a timer. When she realized he could call to detonate the bomb at any time, she knew she couldn't get Otto out of there in time, panicked and ran for your help.”

“All possible, I suppose.”

“But you don't buy any of them.”

He shrugged.

“Fine.” She sounded irritated, an unusual stance for Skyler. She was their peacemaker. The one who brought people together on their team. But tonight he was seeing a different side of her. The tough investigator. “We can disagree on this as long as we're clear that Ms. Curry is a suspect.”

“We're clear.” He saw Krista and Opa returning, both of them slipping into their raincoats. Cash pushed off the wall. “I promise to give them a ride, then come running home like a good little boy.”

“Right, joke about this as you always do but remember this conversation.” Shaking her head, Skyler turned to Krista and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else that might help, give me a call.”

Cash escorted the pair down a ramp to ground level, where he nodded at the officer guarding the exit. Outside, the rain had let up and wispy fingers of steam rose up from the asphalt, disappearing into the dark night. Police cars, both county and city, sat in the lot. Red lights twisted into a swirly cotton candy of fog. A perimeter had been set up and officers dressed in rain gear stood sentry, holding the public at bay.

Cash peered at Otto. “Employees park in an auxiliary lot. It's a bit of a hike. You up for that, or do you want to wait here while I get the car?”

Krista stared across the lot, her expression dark and unreadable. “Maybe we should wait here. We should be fine with all the cops around.”

“Stop fussing, Liebchen.” A stubborn look claimed the old man's face. “I am able to walk.”

Cash didn't want to offend Otto, so he started walking at what he hoped was a slow enough stride to be comfortable. They neared police barricades holding back media crews fairly salivating to one-up each other in their coverage. Paul Parsons from the local News Channel Four TV station was making his way to the front of the crowd. He wore a damp white shirt, and his nondescript brown hair was plastered against his head.

Cash stifled a groan. He'd expected reporters, but he'd rather not face the overly zealous Parsons. He'd tried the patience of FRS team members recently when he'd hounded Skyler after someone tried to kill her. Parsons had made it clear in his reports that he could do a better job in the investigation than the sheriff's department or even better than Skyler's FBI agent fiancé.

But worse, in Cash's opinion, was the way the man had harassed Skyler when she was injured and fragile. Parsons was a bully, plain and simple. If he started hassling Krista or Opa, Cash would have a hard time not pushing back.

As expected, Parsons slipped past an officer and rushed toward them, his cameraman in tow. Cash put his head down and continued moving.

Krista quickly flipped up her hood, seeming to shrink into her coat. “Do you think he knows who we are? That I saw the bomber?”

“Doubtful, but if he
has
somehow learned you're a witness, just say no comment and keep moving.” Cash used his body to shield Krista and Otto while easing them past the tenacious reporter.

Parsons swiveled, planted his feet in front of Krista and shoved the microphone in her face, forcing her to stop. “Is it true, Ms. Curry, that you saw the bomber well enough to give the police a detailed description?”

She took a step back and glanced at Cash. Panic flared in her eyes. An overwhelming protective urge welled up inside Cash—a familiar feeling but not one he'd expected for a woman he barely knew. One who was a suspect in the bombing. It caught him by surprise and made him hesitate. Just a fraction, but long enough for Parsons to seize the moment and step closer.