Chapter 12
They questioned and released Omar Nasif. Athena was convinced he wasn’t involved, but another of Ice and Hernandez’s suspects appeared more promising. She stared at the file on chemist Wayne Butler.
“Agent Ice, did you or Hernandez check out Butler’s alibi?” Travis and Samuel had just returned from taking Nasif back to his hovel.
“I called his mother,” Travis confirmed, “and she said he stayed over. But she fell asleep around nine p.m. after taking her medication, so it’s shaky at best.”
“If we get a warrant, we could check the GPS on his car,” Hernandez suggested, “see if he took a jaunt across town in the middle of the night.”
Athena shook her head. “The file says they tried that last time he was a suspect. Butler owns the Acura RDX outright and removed the GPS tracking system from it. We’ll keep him on the list.”
“No rooftop chase for us,” Campbell said, a hint of disappointment in his tone, “but one of our names, Matthew Reid, also out on parole, is nowhere to be found.”
“We checked his residence, called his cell phone number,” Shoops said, “and contacted his employer. Today is his day off, but she expects him to be at work tomorrow.”
“The other guy is in a wheelchair after being shanked in the back in prison,” Campbell added. “He was home alone and let us look around. No bomb-making materials, and, even if he made one, it’s unlikely he planted it in that generator.”
“We’ll keep Reid on the list and try him again tomorrow,” Athena said.
“Hey, look at this!” Detective Bach peered around the monitor on Agent Howard’s desk. Athena said he should make himself useful. “Can I put it up on that big screen?”
“Campbell, make it happen.” While Paulson usually played with the electronics, they all knew how to display something on the wall screen. Campbell moved to Howard’s desk, punched the right buttons, and used a remote control to activate the six-foot-wide screen.
“This is a replay of a press conference from earlier today,” Bach said and clicked the mouse.
An elegant, sophisticated woman with every strand of her platinum-blonde hair in place stood at an outdoor wooden podium, speaking into a barrage of microphones representing every Houston media outlet.
Athena recognized Amanda Kerrington before her name, along with “CEO of Lone Star Industrial Materials,” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.
She was in her late fifties but could easily pass for a much younger woman.
The quality of her attire, her subtly exquisite jewelry, and her poise proclaimed her station as a woman of means.
“We at Lone Star wish to extend our most sincere condolences to the families of those killed at the Gulf Allied Chemicals fire on Friday.” Her tone and expression were as polished as the queen’s silver.
“While Mr. Charles Whitmore and I may be fierce competitors, it brings me great sorrow to learn of the attack on his Houston plant,” she continued.
“It could just as easily have been our facility that was ruthlessly bombed, and we urge our law enforcement agencies to apprehend this cowardly felon as quickly as possible.”
We don’t actually need encouraging, but thank you, Athena thought to herself as she studied the powerful woman on the screen.
“That is why Lone Star has voted to contribute money, materials, and labor to help Gulf Allied get back on its feet swiftly.” Her keen eyes met the camera, making it appear she was speaking directly to the audience.
“Furthermore, I personally pledge to donate to the victims’ families a sum equal to their company insurance policies.
This includes Federal EPA Inspector Jeff Nolan, whom I have had the privilege of meeting.
And because this domestic terrorist might not be done with his rampage, Lone Star Industrial will award $200,000 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the culprit.
Environmental activists or foreign competitors who wish to tear us down will not intimidate our great state’s industry. ”
No sooner had she concluded than a sea of reporters began calling out questions at once. Bach paused the playback. “Interesting, huh?”
“Indeed,” Athena concurred. Either she was sincere—and possibly worried something similar could happen to one of her plants—or this was all a publicity stunt to steer suspicion away from her.
“What I find most telling,” Bach said, “is that, despite scouring the internet, I’ve found no such public announcement from Whitmore.”
“Dude’s a douchebag,” Travis muttered under his breath. Athena’s glare bore into him, but she had to agree.
“He inherited Gulf Allied from his father, Alistair Nathaniel Whitmore III,” Athena informed the team.
She’d spent the past several hours learning everything she could about CEO Charles Whitmore.
He was fifty-four, with two grown children from his first marriage and a teenage daughter from his second.
“Alistair built the Houston chemical plant in the 1970s, using money he inherited from a legacy of oil barons dating back more than a century—cattle ranchers before that.”
“No wonder the plant is so rusty and falling apart,” Bach said. “It looks like Whitmore hasn’t invested in a single improvement.”
“But he has been busy expanding,” Athena said, “with newer facilities in Beaumont, Corpus Christi, and Baton Rouge.”
“You’d think he’d pay more attention to his primary plant,” Campbell said, a puzzled look on his face. “The company headquarters is in Houston.”
“And his ranch,” Shoops added. She hunched when everyone focused on her. “What? It gets featured in Texas Living magazine every other year.”
Detective Bach regarded her with mock suspicion. “I’ll bet you’re a pixie mage.”
Karen blinked, her face going blank. “I beg your pardon?”
“In Dungeons and Dragons,” Bach clarified. “You play a pixie mage. Now, I prefer being an ogre barbarian so I can pummel monsters, but you strike me as the intellectual one—small but mighty.”
Agent Shoops’ cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.
“Can we stay focused on the case, please?” Athena’s glare could have ignited wet kindling. “Anything else to report before we adjourn for the night?”
“Every vehicle that entered through the front gate traced back to someone on the payroll or a contracted service,” Campbell said with a sigh. “And I finally tracked down Reid, soundly alibied.”
“I started running members of the Green Resistance and the other two pro-environmental groups,” Karen said. “No red flags yet, but we had to leave to check out the bomber/arsonist suspects.”
“We’ve got more records to sift through,” Hernandez said. “And we should branch out to neighboring states.”
“Ice?” Athena turned to the capable agent.
“We haven’t gotten all the findings back from the lab yet,” he said. “And Ms. Kerrington brought up a good point. I think someone should start looking into foreign competitors tomorrow.”
“They might have a motive to damage the chemical plant,” Athena agreed, “but not for killing Nolan. The strongest scenario I see right now is using the explosion and fire to cover up the murder, making it appear Nolan died in the blast. Still, it’s possible the murder and bomb were unrelated, so we have to pursue all avenues of investigation.
Go home. Eat, sleep, relax. Tomorrow, we hit it hard. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” Travis said.
When Athena headed toward her office instead of the door, Bach asked, “Aren’t you going home too?”
“Soon,” she answered. With a shrug, he opted to escort Karen to the elevator. With no one watching, Athena snickered and shook her head before retreating into her office. She just needed to lock down a few details before heading to Flash’s loft for a home-cooked meal and to pet Snuffles.
That would be another advantage of moving in together, she thought.
Unlimited Snuffles time. She shook the thought away.
Flash wouldn’t go for it, not yet. She remembered her girlfriend once complaining that older women she dated had pressured her about living together.
She would not be one of those insecure, needy older women.
A dancing Havanese, the aroma of comfort food, and an enthusiastic kiss from Flash greeted Athena. Could this really be my life someday soon?
“Hey, sexy,” Flash breathed as she loosened her embrace. “Snuffles wants to show off her new look.”
Smiling, Athena raked her fingers through Flash’s short hair, trailing them lovingly down her cheek before dropping her gaze to the dog. Athena crouched to pat the pup. “Snuffles, you’re so pretty with your new haircut. And look at this Valentine’s neckerchief! I missed you when I was gone.”
Snuffles leaned into her pats and licked Athena’s hand.
With a cheerful face, she cried, “Arf!” and dashed for the nearest toy—a stuffed Santa’s elf holding a squeaky bone—and hurled it into the air.
The little dog raced in circles like a tiny tornado.
“Grr, grr, grr!” She seized the elf, shook it, and tossed it high.
It landed on a shelf out of her reach. Snuffles stopped short and looked up.
“That’s a marvelous trick!” Athena praised. “Now, come give me some love.”
Forgetting the stuck toy, the not-so-furry fluff ball bounded back to Athena and leaped at her. Athena rose with Snuffles pressed to her chest as laughter erupted from both her and Flash.
“No matter how awful a day I’ve had, this sweet little Snuffles always makes me feel better.”
Flash pressed a palm to the small of her back, her face drawn in concern. “Did you have a bad day?”
“Not really.” Athena kissed the top of Snuffles’ head and set her back onto the floor. “Just no break in the case. What about you?” She walked with Flash toward the kitchen area, where the delicious smells came from.
“It’s been good, except for the traffic and crowds at the store,” Flash answered.
Athena leaned on the counter and inhaled. “How does that work, anyway? You can’t carry many shopping bags on your bike.”
“No,” Flash admitted. “Just enough for a meal or two and some snacks, dog treats. If I need big things, I go shopping with Waylan or Nita after shift. I’m all stocked up on beverages, batteries, and essentials, so I just needed the ingredients for tonight’s dinner.”
“Lasagne?”
“Baked ziti.” Flash opened the oven and pulled out a ceramic baking dish. “Mom’s recipe.” She set it on top of the stove and slid the garlic bread into the oven.
“It smells heavenly,” Athena said. “Yeah, people are going nuts over the weather reports.”
“Well, it makes sense, like when northerners have scorchers and old people die of heatstroke. Last time we had a winter storm, I spent three days pulling people out of wrecks and responding to carbon monoxide calls. It’s still a day or two away, but, when Texans start panic-buying water, I pay attention. ”
She scooped salad into bowls with two big spoons. Several dressing options lined the counter. Athena said, “They overreact, and that’s what causes most of the accidents and fatalities. The news and weather channels don’t help.”
“Yeah, what’s with that?” Flash glanced at her with a baffled expression. “It’s like their goal is to keep viewers in panic mode. ‘Stay tuned for minute-by-minute updates.’ They just want to make a fortune off every disaster.”
“Totally!”
Flash standing so close, doing domestic work no less, muscles rippling up her arms, her tight butt swaying as she moved, proved too much temptation. Athena had to touch her. She received a gleam and a devilish grin for her effort as Flash pulled the warm bread from the oven and turned it off.
“Great minds think alike, huh?” Flash said. “Still, better safe than sorry. Ready to eat?”
“Yes, sweetie. I can’t wait to try your mom’s recipe.” Athena held out a plate.
Flash spooned on a modest portion, adding a slice of garlic bread. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips twitched as she said, “We don’t want to be so full of pasta that we can’t move after dinner. I have dessert plans, you know.”
Athena chuckled and carried her plate and salad bowl to the table, where wine breathed in long-stemmed glasses beside ice water. A can of Parmesan, paired with salt and pepper shakers, brushed up against a lit candle. She’d made it look like a restaurant, even a flower in a bud vase.
Gliding into her seat, Athena said, “Detective Bach mentioned how well-rested I looked this morning. I’m not sure ‘rested’ was the right call, though—more like sated and satisfied.”
“Don’t worry,” Flash said as she sat with her food. “I have to be on shift early tomorrow, so I won’t keep you up all night.”
Athena bit into hearty pasta, infused with tangy tomato sauce and sweet, spicy Italian sausage. But the blend of cheeses held center stage and begged for an encore. Her eyelids closed, and she hummed.
“I ran into an old girlfriend at the supermarket.”
Athena’s eyes snapped open. She swallowed her bite, trying not to look like a deer in headlights. Flash must have dozens of old girlfriends. “Oh?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted Flash to say more about the encounter.
“Yeah.” Flash casually bit into her bread. “She’s still tending bar, living the carefree club life.”
“Oh.” This time, Athena’s inflection fell. She dropped her gaze to her pasta, gathering a bite onto her fork. “What’d you talk about?”
Athena could sense Flash’s swagger even though she sat still. “About how I’ve grown up, and she hasn’t, how I have this totally awesome, hot FBI agent girlfriend, and she’s stuck with the partner of the week.”
Relief and humor washed through Athena. She should have learned by now. Flash loves me, she chose me, and she’s still choosing me.
“In the spirit of full disclosure, I think Detective Bach is perplexed and disappointed that I’ve shown no interest whatsoever in him as a man.”
“Maybe I should swing by your office and set him straight.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Athena’s cheeks felt as warm as her heart. “But thanks all the same.”
“You’re welcome.” Flash caught her gaze, her protective energy on display. “You’re mine.” Something hungry and predatory flickered in her eyes. “And I’m yours. That’s the way it is. You good with that?”
Desire and appreciation stirred in Athena, along with a powerful bond of belonging. It was as if someone had turned up the volume on her emotions, surpassing any decibels she’d ever experienced before. She couldn’t lose Flash. No one had ever made her feel so wanted.
“I’m good with that,” she answered, feeling a bit tipsy. She hadn’t even touched her wine.