“Yes, I know,” May said somberly.

  “With the panic it's generating, any delay in getting answers is going to reflect badly on us."

  May swallowed hard. She could sympathize with what Sheriff Jack must be having to handle.

  "I hope we can get answers soon, and we’ll go ahead as fast as we can."

  "I'll email you the files in the next few minutes," Jack said.

  May disconnected and glanced at Owen, who looked as worried as she felt.

  "This is going to escalate in a bad way," he said.

  "I hope we can find something - some common thread - in the other cases," May emphasized.

  At that moment, Owen's phone and iPad began pinging.

  "Here are the cases," he said, sounding more encouraged that at least now there was something to analyze.

  "Take a look, and read the summaries out to me. Let's see what we have," May said, mentally crossing fingers that this would allow them to make progress.

  They were driving out of town now, leaving the urban view behind, and the landscape was changing to the forested hills, lakes, and greenery that would provide a scenic backdrop for most of the way back to Tamarack County. She guessed the killer must have driven this same route, after murdering Sheila, with his next setup in mind.

  She could only imagine how his mind had been buzzing with evil thoughts as he'd driven along the beautiful and scenic roads.

  And now instead of being able to appreciate the view, May felt consumed with worry that they wouldn't find him, and that this would escalate into a national disaster, with the Tamarack County police departments at its epicenter.

  Luckily, at that moment, Owen got the files into order and began reading.

  "The first victim, killed a month ago, was a teacher at Woodbridge High School," Owen said.

  May raised her eyebrows. That was just inside the borders of Tamarack County.

  "I don't recall hearing about the crime," she said.

  Owen shook his head. "It says here that the art teacher, Mrs. Flannery, age forty-seven, lived about fifty miles out of town on a farm with her son. So she resided outside of the county. She was murdered at her residence, not at school.”

  “That explains it,” May said. “What happened?”

  “She used to take her son’s car to market every Wednesday, and it was wired to explode when she started it early on Wednesday morning.”

  “So the bomb was in the son’s car?” May asked.

  “That’s correct. At first they thought maybe it was just a gas leak in the garage, or something that had happened with the fertilizer bags piled up there. It wasn't easy because the whole garage went up. It was only when the bomb squad got their results back a couple of days later, that they found it had been a deliberate bomb, planted in the car."

  "And did they bring anyone in or have any suspects at all?" May asked.

  "No, there were no suspects arrested. The police also didn’t know whether the killer had actually meant to target her or her son, but everyone in the area knew that she went out and about in that vehicle on Wednesdays. So if someone had researched the crime, they would have known it would be her starting the car up that morning.”

  “That’s interesting. Any likely suspects for either of them?”

  “No. The son, Hilton, is a young farmer. He runs the place as a small organic farm and sells produce to the community. Mrs. Flannery was well liked at the school, it says here. She was divorced from her husband, but had been for years and he'd moved out of state. There were no problems with neighbors, no problems with staff on the farm; there are only three employees and they are all long term. The son wasn't at home that night; he was up north for three days, hauling cattle."

  "So Hilton had an alibi?"

  "Correct. It was investigated by the local police - not in our county - and they came up blank. The case is still open although now it has been linked to the others."

  "Right," May said.

  They had the background on the first case. What was the second?

  "The second victim was in a restaurant that blew up. It was a roadhouse diner about ten miles to the west of Tamarack County. The victim was Barbara Vining, age thirty-three, who I think was the owner or manager of the roadhouse. They think that the bomb might have been activated when her sister called her. Mrs. Vining took the call late at night, as she was closing up. But it’s not totally clear if it was linked to the call."

  "I think I heard about that one," May agreed. "But not our county, so we were not involved."

  "Exactly. It took place nearby but not within our jurisdiction. And she was the only victim."

  May sighed. What could a restaurant manager possibly have done to deserve such a terrible fate?

  "Did they narrow down the suspects?"

  "She was divorced – her husband moved to Oklahoma a few years ago – and lived alone. They looked at a few suspects, based on recent visitors to the roadhouse. They interviewed a group of local boys who'd been in there the night before and caused trouble. But they all had alibis for later on. There was also an ex-waiter who they questioned in case he was involved, but they didn't take it further due to a lack of evidence connecting him with the crime."

  Owen gasped.

  "What?" May asked. The car swerved slightly.

  "May, I've just made a connection here. Between these two cases. Something that obviously hasn't been picked up as yet. It can't have been."

  "What? What have you found?" Now May felt seriously excited that this case might be moving forward. She couldn't wait to hear what connection Owen had made.

  "The ex-waiter. He was a part-time waiter who worked weekends, but he was fired a couple of weeks ago. Now, he was also a student at Woodbridge High School. And he was recently suspended from the school."

  Now it was May's turn to gasp.

  This was a significant common thread between these two crimes, and she felt grateful that their re-reading of the case files had allowed them to pick it up.

  A student at the school, had worked part-time at the restaurant. Both places had been the target of bombs, even though the teacher had been targeted, rather than the school itself.

  And being fired and suspended was also significant. Any kind of trouble was always a red flag.

  This student could be looking to take revenge on the people he perceived as having caused his troubles.

  "What is the student's name?"

  "His name is Cody Meyers," Owen said.

  "And where does he live?"

  "He lives a few miles from Woodbridge High. Perhaps we should go straight there?"

  "I think so, definitely." May paused. "Does it say in the report why he was suspended from school? Or why he was fired?"

  "I don’t think they said why he was fired from the restaurant. I think it did include a written explanation from the school about the suspension. Let me find it."

  Owen scrolled through the documents, and found the short paragraph.

  "It just says he was suspended due to inappropriate behavior in science class. There's nothing more than that."

  “I think we should drive straight to Cody’s house. Let’s question him, find out what it was, and why it got him suspended. Then we can also ask him what happened at work, and why he was fired.”

  Speaking to Cody would also allow them to check his alibi and whereabouts for some, or all, of the crimes. May wondered if Cody would be able to provide the necessary alibis, or if they might be on the way to the home of the killer.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Owen felt determined that if Cody Meyers was the common thread, they were going to get to him, question him, and make sure the case was watertight.

  He glanced at May as she followed the route to the small ranch where Cody's parents lived – and where hopefully they would find him, too. He saw that May’s face looked stern and worried.

  He couldn't believe such a massive, violent case had landed in their jurisdiction. Seemingly out of the blue. Suddenly, Tamarack County was part of this killer's territory, and more than likely his current location. Suddenly, state attention and even national attention was focused on them.

  Owen felt briefly intimidated by the sheer enormity of what they were up against. Even with the FBI involved, this was taking place on their local turf and as Sheriff Jack had pointed out, that meant they would be answerable and responsible.

  It felt like a huge challenge for someone who had only joined the police two years ago and whose previous experience had been at an accounting firm.

  But Owen reminded himself that he had joined the police because he wanted to make a difference. He felt compelled to try and help his community and his society fight exactly the kind of evil that this killer was displaying now.

  Just like May was doing, he would approach this with all the courage and tenacity he possessed.

  For a moment, thinking of May’s character, Owen felt a flash of regret that she had said no to dating him.

  He knew that he had to respect her wishes, but he couldn't help hoping that she might change her mind in the future, because his own feelings hadn't changed.

  Every day that he worked with her increased his admiration for her competence and integrity, and his liking - okay, maybe it was more adoration - for her sense of humor and her insight.

  As he looked at her now, he couldn't deny that he was still attracted to her.

  Maybe her mind would change and he would get the opportunity he'd dreamed of, to take her on an actual date.

  But he was a realist, and he knew that he couldn't force her to change her mind. He had to fully respect her own feelings and her own choices, especially as he knew she had suffered badly in the past with a nightmare divorce that had left her wary of getting involved again.

  He owed it to her to give her space, and not to try and pressure her.

  And in any case, Owen told himself firmly, this was not the time to worry about dating his investigation partner. Not when they were on such an important mission. He needed to push away these distracting thoughts, because they had a job to do.

  They had to find the killer and stop him before anyone else died. That was the only thing that mattered now.

  Finally, they were approaching the ranch, driving out into the countryside on a winding road that led through forested hills.

  "Here we are," May said, slowing the car as they reached a rustic wooden gate with the number '14' on a pillar outside. The gate was open, and the driveway beyond led up the hill to the ranch.

  "Looks like a decent-sized place," he said, admiring the neatly fenced fields, with knots of trees and well-kept outbuildings.

  "It's a fair-sized spread," May agreed, accelerating up the drive and slowing as she reached the house. "Let’s see who’s home.”

  She pulled over and they both stepped out of the car.

  The ranch was a long, red-roofed wooden building, with a white clapboard side. It was surrounded by a wide porch.

  A few horses grazed in the field nearby, and Owen noticed a small creek flowed along the western edge of the property.

  Owen glanced at May, feeling a flutter of nervousness in his stomach as they walked toward the ranch building.

  They approached the porch, and May knocked on the door. There, they both waited, standing side by side. No one answered.

  May knocked again, this time with a little more force. And Owen jumped as the door was flung open.

  They came face to face with a tanned, blonde woman wearing a lavender cowboy shirt and jeans. Her expression was one of extreme annoyance.

  "It takes me a while to get from the stables to the house! Don't keep banging on the door like that," she complained.

  May stepped forward. "Deputies Moore and Lovell," she introduced politely. Owen always appreciated how she defused these situations. "I apologize for the repeated knocking. We're on a very tight schedule and would like to ask Cody some questions."

  "Oh yes?" The woman gave a harsh laugh. "I doubt Cody will want to talk to you after the way you've treated him."

  She glanced at Owen, then back at May. Owen blinked in confusion.

  Still polite, May replied, "Ma'am, this is our first visit here. We haven't yet met Cody, but we do need to follow up on a recent case that he was connected with."

  "He didn't do it," she said angrily.

  "We're not saying he did," May said in a soothing voice. "We're just hoping we can ask him a few questions. Is he here?"

  "My boy's had a hard time." The blonde raised her chin. "He was unfairly suspended from school because of inappropriate behavior in science class, and then he was interrogated by the police in a very unfriendly way, just for holding down a job that he was fired from! It was at least a week before that terrible explosion occurred."

  "I'm sure that he definitely has his side of the story, and we'd like to hear it," May said soothingly.

  Owen could see the woman's wrath beginning to evaporate.

  "He's not in the house. He's in the cottage with a friend." She indicated a small building in the valley, a couple of hundred feet away. "That's where he lives. You can go there, but don't upset him. He doesn't deserve it."

  "Thank you, ma'am," Owen said respectfully, feeling as if he should contribute in some small way to the dialogue.

  She sighed heavily and shut the door in their faces.

  Owen felt briefly worried that he just didn't have May's diplomatic touch. But May clearly wasn't worried. She was already turning in the direction of the cottage.

  "I'm glad he's home," she said.

  She began striding over the grassy hill, and Owen followed, wondering what would play out when they came face to face with Cody. He couldn't deny that he was curious to meet him, to see what kind of person he was, and if he could be involved in such terrible crimes. Already he got the impression that Cody was a loose cannon, and that his mother was protecting him from the consequences of his actions.

  As they neared the cottage, Owen picked up the deep throb of heavy metal music, playing at full volume. The sound reverberated through the air, seeming almost to shake the wooden walls.

  Smoke was rising from the cottage's chimney.

  Owen frowned. It looked very thick and black to be fire smoke. What was going on inside there?

  May was also looking perturbed.

  "Perhaps we should take a look, and check it out, before we knock?" she muttered to him.

  With explosive devices on his mind, Owen thought that was an excellent idea. If this man was their killer they couldn't be too careful, and needed to start taking precautions now. What if he’d wired a booby trap to activate when the door was opened?

  May sidled around to the window. Then she and Owen peered through the rather dusty glass.

  Owen's eyes widened as he saw the scene inside.

  The cottage was set up like a science lab. There were containers of substances, test tubes, wires, and something that definitely did not look like a wood fire, smoldering in the grate.

  Two men, wearing helmets and fireproof suits, were busy connecting the wires. They had their back to the window.

  “Explosives!” May hissed.

  Quickly, Owen took out his phone and snapped a few pictures, in case these were needed for evidence. His hands were trembling slightly, from the need to be as fast as possible, and also from the shock of stumbling on this nightmarish scenario.

  He could not believe they had found the maker – the actual maker – of experimental explosive devices. This was a massive achievement.

  “We need to go in there, now, and arrest them,” May stated in a low, firm voice.

  Owen agreed. There was no time to waste, and the danger was not yet over, because whatever these two boys were busy with, they looked about to take further steps.

  In fact, he revised that. There might be no time at all.

  As Owen watched, barely able to breathe, the taller of the two began connecting up a series of wires to a large box.

  Weird, sharp fumes were leaking out of a gap in the window frame.

  "This is not looking good," May breathed.

  Owen tensed as he saw the box begin to spark and fizzle. Flames ran along the wires, in the direction of the larger box.

  "Get back," he hissed, grabbing May's arm. "I don't like this at all. Get back!"

  They turned and made a run for it. Owen kept a tight hold on May's arm, knowing they needed to get distance between them and this experiment, and they needed to do it fast. He ran with all the speed he had, aiming for the nearby tree that represented the first piece of solid cover.

  They only just reached it in time.

  Behind them, with a massive blast, the cottage exploded.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The shockwave knocked May right off her feet. She cannoned into Owen and his arms wrapped around her for a moment, preventing her from tumbling to the ground. They both staggered back at the force of the blast, which felt like a physical blow.

  Smoke belched toward them in an impenetrable, toxic cloud and May covered her face with her arm, coughing at the fumes, her eyes stinging. She held her breath, not knowing what on earth had been in that setup, but pretty sure that it shouldn’t be inhaled.

  Gradually, the smoke cleared, and May stared at the cottage in absolute shock.

  The roof had come all the way off and was lying on the ground in a buckled, twisted heap of steel. One wall had a hole blown in it, with splintered pieces of wood sticking jaggedly out. The place was on fire.

  The sound was still reverberating around the quiet valley, and through her watering eyes, she saw horses cantering around the fields, tossing their heads in reaction to the sudden noise.

  "The boys! Cody and his friend!" she said in horror, as her bludgeoned mind caught up with events.

  Hastily, Owen let go of her and they paced cautiously back toward the cottage. May felt deeply concerned for the two people who’d been inside, and worried they might have died in the blast. But at the same time, she was equally worried there might be a second explosion.

 

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