was to go off when the car was started. Do I need to slow down?”
Dale considered the explanation. In a sense, it would’ve been the perfect murder—except Watters was long gone and not worried about his car.
The tech continued. “I fed the information through the FBI Bomb Data Center and the ATF’s National Repository, but I couldn’t find a signature match to our bomb.”
“So, what do you think?”
He yawned and removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Well, the fact that plastic explosive was used does tell us that the suspect is an expert bomb maker. You can’t get this stuff over the counter. The setup was elaborate and the bomb hidden so well that it couldn’t have been detected by the naked eye, unless you actually squirmed underneath the car looking for it. It would’ve taken a pro to design and dismantle the explosive weapon. This car was detonated to explode if someone either started or tampered with the vehicle.”
There was nothing in his bio to indicate that Calvin Watters had any special training in the detonation of bombs. Also why would Watters set a bomb under his own car? Someone wanted Watters out of the picture. Why?
“Thanks,” Dale said.
“No problem.”
He was more convinced than ever that Watters was innocent, but he couldn’t prove that any more than he could Sanders’ guilt.
Now, along with the three “perfect” murders, he had to deal with a “perfect” attempted murder.
In the basement he pulled out his cell phone. No signal. He began to climb the stairs and as the signal was restored, he called his partner.
“It’s Dale.”
“Where have you been? I have been trying to reach you.”
He heard the tension in his partner’s voice. “I’ve been in the basement with the lab tech. I can’t get a signal down there.”
“So you haven’t heard?”
“What?”
“There was a press conference this evening outside the Greek. Linda Grant just sold her shares of the casino to Sanders. He’s now part owner.”
“I’m impressed she moved without wasting time. Tomorrow morning check that the deal was legit, but I bet it was.”
He paused for a moment. “And I need you to do one more thing before you settle down for the night. Use your network to see if anyone will give up that an assassin has come to town who knows bombs.”
“Got it.”
Too many questions and not enough answers.
Chapter 28
A tiny jingle gave Calvin a start. His head shot up off the desk, a piece of paper stuck to the side of his mouth from drool.
How long had he been out?
He checked the monitor and through fuzzy eyes saw Rachel at the back door, letting herself in. He jumped from his chair and hustled to meet her.
He spoke before she had closed the door. “Where have you been?” He strode to her and lightly grasped her arm.
Rachel shook it away. “I had to get out.”
“You know we can’t leave. Goddamn it, Rachel! Do you think this is a game? You could have been caught, followed, or even killed.”
He peeked out the window.
“Settle down, Calvin. I did what you told me—circled a bunch of times and retraced my steps.”
“Where did you go?”
“Relax. You haven’t slept for days, so I didn’t wake you. I had to see my friends.”
“Hookers?” Calvin’s eyes grew large.
“My colleagues.” Rachel’s voice was stern.
“Sorry.” He shook his head. “What did you possibly need from them that you would risk leaving here?”
“I can’t just sit around and do nothing, Calvin, while, as you say, ‘our lives are in danger.’ I want to help, but you refuse to let me. I can do stuff. I’ve been protecting myself for a long time.”
He knew that and also realized that Rachel was just being proactive, wanting to do all she could to help him, as well as her. But in his heart, he didn’t want anything to happen to her and would do anything to protect her. He respected and admired Rachel all the more now, but he would never tell her. He needed to make sure she knew the consequences of her actions.
“It was Amber.”
“Who’s Amber?”
Rachel swiped away a single tear. “It was Amber in Pitt’s office. She was new and I’d only met her once. No one really knew much about her. But she was sweet.”
He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
She pushed him away. “That’s not all. People are asking about us.”
“I know. Once the cops found out about you, your colleagues would be the first ones they’d question.”
“I’m not talking about the cops.”
Calvin saw fear in her eyes. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Wanda said he’s pretty creepy though. He asked about me and you. He didn’t show any identification and they said he definitely wasn’t a cop.”
“What did he look like?”
“They all gave me a different description—but all confirmed he was tall and skinny and very strange.”
He shook his head. That helped very little. The man could be anyone, working for anyone. “Listen, Rachel. I’m not joking. You’re not to leave again.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
He was about to say more when he heard the familiar “bing” from his computer—another emergency message alert. He rushed to the computer room and clicked on the blinking icon. He saw two familiar faces on the computer monitor.
Sanders and Linda Grant, hand in hand on a podium set up outside the Greek. He read the writing that scrolled across the bottom. Sanders had just purchased the rights to own a small percentage of the casino.
Bingo! Sanders killed Grant.
Calvin had been sure that there was some connection between Sanders, Linda Grant and Pitt. But he hadn’t known exactly what it was.
Seeing the news about the sale, he made the final connection. Pitt, who’d done so much dirty work for Sanders, was involved somehow in making that sale possible. Pitt was probably an accomplice in Grant’s murder too.
He closed the document and focused on gathering intelligence that connected Grant’s killer and his accomplices. He was sure Sanders had killed Pitt because he had known too much about Sanders’ plans and actions and because Sanders, being Sanders, had never intended Pitt to be any kind of partner, silent or otherwise. They’d used Pitt until the deal was done and then killed him. Now it was just Sanders and Linda, which Calvin suspected was their plan all along.
He could have hacked into Pitt’s database, but since the cops would have wiped out everything useful by now, he picked up the phone and dialed out. “Please be right. Please be right.”
“Hello?”
“Dixie, it’s me again. Please tell me that you still have the personal USB key Pitt gave you from his
