Chapter 37
The next morning, Noelle watched the coffee stream out of her machine and deeply inhaled the scent, trying to jump-start the caffeine. Max was still sleeping, which was understandable. It’d been a long night.
Once all the wounded had been removed from the scene at the bunkers, Max was finally willing to be driven to the ER. Under the bright hospital lights, he had looked as if he’d stood too close to the sun.
While they waited for the doctor, Max asked a nurse for a razor and shaved one side of his face so it would match the side where his beard had burned off. His hand shook, and after he made a second bleeding cut, Noelle took the razor away and finished it herself.
She jokingly offered to shave off his other eyebrow, but he suggested it be trimmed short. She found some scissors and did an awkward job of it. She also trimmed some of his hair. His coat had scorch marks, and he had no idea what had happened to his hat.
It probably disintegrated.
The doctor had pronounced that he didn’t have a concussion.
Thank you, snow.
Max was given some ointment for his burns and turned down the prescription painkiller. The doctor’s expression indicated that was a decision Max would later regret. Noelle told the doctor to send it to the pharmacy anyway.
They’d gotten home at four in the morning and Max had fallen asleep instantly. Noelle had lain awake, trying to put the sight of Keyes’s and Reed’s burned bodies out of her mind. Keyes had been pronounced dead at the hospital.
Then Noelle worried about Emma, wondering where she would turn up. If she turned up. After last night, Noelle didn’t know what to think about Emma’s relationship with Hammaker.
During Max’s time at the hospital, reporters had swarmed the emergency room, full of questions about what had happened on Hammaker’s property.
Over and over, they were referred to the sheriff’s public information officer, who Noelle suspected would purposefully ignore his phone until he’d been briefed later that morning.
The mission had been a mess.
Fingers would be pointed. Lawsuits would be filed.
But Max had survived.
Her phone vibrated on the counter. Her first instinct was to ignore it, considering she hadn’t had any coffee, but she flipped it over to see who was calling.
Cory Johnson. Mercy’s FBI informant.
Noelle immediately answered. “Cory? Are you okay?”
“Detective Marshall?” asked the woman. “I left a message for Agent Kilpatrick, but I don’t know if she’ll get back to me, and I need to talk to someone.”
Noelle was suddenly as alert as if she’d been poked with a syringe of caffeine.
“I can help you. What’s going on, Cory?”
“Is it true what they’re saying? Did a bomb go off and kill some FBI agents? Is Agent Kilpatrick okay?” Her questions ran together.
“Agent Kilpatrick wasn’t there,” said Noelle. “She’s fine.” She hesitated, not wanting to release any other information.
“Oh, thank God.” Relief was palpable in her voice. “I was so worried.”
“How did you hear about it, Cory?”
“I saw it online.”
Noelle had already checked online for news of the explosions. The available information was vague, referring to an explosion of unknown origin on private property, but it did say that two federal agents had been killed. “One was an ATF agent and the other was FBI,” she told Cory.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to Agent Kilpatrick about,” she said after a long pause. “I talked to one of those men last night. You know, one from the group of three I saw in the bar a while back. Where Rachel . . .” She couldn’t finish.
“You saw the man that went home with Rachel?” Noelle was stunned.
“No. One of the others.”
Max padded into the kitchen, his face drawn with pain. Noelle pointed emphatically at the little orange pill bottle on the counter. He shook his head.
“Hang on a second, Cory.” Noelle muted the conversation.
“Cory?” Max asked, his eyes narrowing. “Cory Johnson?”
“Yes. Take the medication, and I’ll tell you why she’s called.”
Indecision warred on his face. He finally opened the bottle and grumpily dry-swallowed two.
I knew I’d have to bargain.
She unmuted the call. “Cory, I’m going to put you on speaker. Agent Rhodes is now here with me.”
“You’re at work already?”
“Well, a lot happened last night, as you know. We’re busy,” Noelle answered, not about to tell the woman that Max was standing in her kitchen. She touched her phone’s screen and set it on the counter.
“Go ahead and tell us about the man you talked to last night,” said Noelle, holding Max’s gaze. “The one who was at the bar with the man who went home with Rachel.”
Max’s lopsided eyebrows shot up and he winced.
“I saw him come in and immediately recognized him,” said Cory. “He took a seat—”
“Why didn’t you call the police?” asked Max. “Or notify one of us?”
“You know how long it takes the police to respond there?” snapped Cory. “And this guy looked ready to bolt. He was looking over his shoulder and checking every shadow. I decided to just give him some attention. You know, drinks, conversation, flirt a bit. It always works.”
“What happened, Cory?” asked Noelle, getting impatient.
“Well, I took his order and doubled the booze. Brought him some sliders that I told him had been made accidentally. He relaxed after a bit, but was still watching everyone who came in. He’d taken a seat at the end of the bar where he could see everything that was going on inside.”
“Did you get a name?”
“Chet. Not sure how true that was. Anyway, on his second drink I finally say, ‘Chet, you’re looking around like you expect a lion to jump out and bite you.’ He laughed and said, ‘Something like that.’ I turn up the sugar, and we chat for a while, but all I’m thinking about is that he might know who killed Rachel. ”
Max opened his mouth, and Noelle shook her head. “Don’t,” she whispered, knowing he was about to ask again why she hadn’t called the police. Noelle knew Cory wasn’t the type of person to trust most law enforcement. Mercy had said she was very flighty. The fact that she’d called Noelle was huge.
“Anyway, he sort of admitted that he was avoiding some people. And when I pointed out that he was in the wrong place to avoid anyone, he said they were all supposed to be out of town. And that he’d been lying low until tonight.
‘Sounds like you need to celebrate,’ I told him.
By now I’m laying it on pretty thick, and I can tell he’s getting interested. ”
She uses sex appeal to get what she wants.
Noelle was torn between feeling sorry for the woman and being impressed at how skillfully Cory could wield her tools.
“He told me I needed to watch the news the next few days. Stuff was going to happen. I pushed for more information, but he said he didn’t know.
He finally admitted he’d been about to do something with a group but backed out, and that was why he was lying low.
He was afraid they’d be angry with him. I teased him and tried to draw out more information, but he wasn’t giving it.
I don’t think he actually knew any details like when and where. ”
“What about names?” asked Noelle.
“Every time I steered the conversation that way, he shut down, so I backed off. But he did keep repeating that no one would get hurt. But I’ve got to tell you, Detective, I think he was trying to convince himself.
I think he was hiding from this group because he believed whatever they had planned was going to hurt people. ”
Noelle could tell Max was biting his tongue.
“What else can you tell us?”
“As he got more drunk, he kept mumbling, ‘It’s too late. It’s already on.’ Then this morning I saw online what happened overnight, and I knew I needed to call. Do you think that’s what he was talking about? Obviously people got hurt.”
Noelle eyed Max’s burned face. A bruise was starting to darken on his neck.
“Maybe,” she said.
“He paid in cash, so I didn’t get a full name. But I followed him out to the parking lot, and I got his license plate. I’ll text you a photo.”
Max’s eyes widened. “That’s fantastic, Cory.”
“You’ll find him, right?” begged Cory. “He’ll tell you who killed Rachel?
” Her voice cracked and she started to cry.
“I knew I had to just keep stringing him along and let you guys catch up to him later. I was afraid that if I asked who he was with that other night I saw him, he’d vanish.
Sounds like he knows who set off that bomb that killed those agents overnight. ”
“We’ll see where the license plate leads us, Cory. You did really good,” Noelle told her. “I’ll let you know what we find out. Anything else?”
“I feel so bad about not calling anyone right away,” Cory whispered. “Maybe those agents wouldn’t be dead.”
“What time did he come in?” asked Max.
“It was nearly eleven.”
“We were already on scene by then,” said Max. “I don’t think you could have done anything to change what happened.”
“You were there?” Cory whispered.
“Yes.” His word was clipped.
“I’m so sorry.” She sniffled loudly.
Noelle comforted her for a few more seconds, then ended the call. Max handed Noelle the ready cup of coffee and then pushed a few buttons to start another for himself. While he waited, he looked at the license plate photo on her phone and sent off a text.
“How are you feeling?” Noelle had noticed he was moving one of his arms very carefully.
“Sore. I’ve got pain in every limb.” He scrolled on his phone, scowling.
“Two more agents are in the hospital with breathing issues. Probably some sort of chemicals in the air after the explosion. I’ve got twenty texts and two dozen emails.
” He looked up. “Let’s get showered and go in.
It’s going to be a busy day.” His phone vibrated with another text, and his face fell.
“The license plate Cory sent us was stolen.”
“Shit,” said Noelle. She’d had high hopes. “But maybe he’ll return to the bar. Sounds like he might have a thing for Cory. I think she’ll call right away next time.”
His phone buzzed again. “What the—that’s weird.” Confusion shone in his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Garrison. My boss. He just sent a location to our office group text using the satellite option on his phone.”
Noelle looked over his shoulder as a message from Mercy popped up in the group text.
Jeff, you ok? Mistake?
“Mercy thought it was odd too.” The two of them stared at the screen, waiting for him to reply.
“The location he sent puts him in the middle of nowhere,” said Noelle.
“I know he went out of town a day or two ago with some friends,” said Max. His phone rang. It was Mercy, but she was calling the group.
“Mercy?” he answered on speaker. “What’s going on?”
“I sent a bunch of texts on my own to Jeff,” she said. “They’re not going through. I tried to call too.”
“He’s in the boonies. He had to use satellite to send that location.”
“And my texts should have been delivered to him that way. They weren’t.”
A beeping sound indicated that Melissa, the Bend FBI branch’s office manager, had joined the call. “Anyone get a hold of Jeff?” she asked.
“I can’t get through,” said Mercy. “I know he’s been scheduled off for part of this week. Where did he go?”
“He’s on a retreat,” said Melissa. “He went with a bunch of government officials and their families.”
“That’s right,” said Mercy. “The location notification must have been a mistake.”
“Wait,” said Max, his voice sounding choked. He covered his eyes with one hand. “Who’s he with?”
“Ummm. It’s at the district attorney’s cabin. Our mayor’s there. The city manager—”
“Judges?” asked Max.
Alarm tightened Noelle’s throat.
“I think two are judges,” said Melissa. “And I believe the governor was going too.”
Max’s fierce gaze met Noelle’s, and he took a deep breath. “Judge Holtz told me he was going to the district attorney’s cabin for a getaway. His wife said she didn’t feel like being social and wanted to get out of the state instead.
“I think this could be where the terrorism event is going to happen—or has happened. It makes sense with what Ricky Dowd said about creating a vacuum at the top. Dammit! Families and children are there! All Jeff managed to do was send us the location before . . .”
Max didn’t know how to finish the sentence, Cory’s words running through his head. “It’s too late. It’s already on,” she’d claimed the man in the bar had said.
Are Jeff and the others still alive?