“Am I?” Asher replied, touching three of his fingers as he counted out. “He has motive, means and opportunity. No one would bat an eye seeing him walk around that neighborhood as he’s lived there for years. Nor would they think to pat him down upon entering. Bring up the log books. Find out when he entered or left the city. What did he take out, what did he return with. The fact is, when we requested to find someone who could manage ward one, he put his name forward.”
“Because he wanted to help.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Oh please. Listen to yourself,” Johnson said. “What would he have to gain by blowing up a few homes?”
“Payback. The community was gunning to see him hanged. Do you honestly think he’s rolled over and forgotten about it?”
“With that logic, I’m surprised you haven’t blamed me,” Martha added, leaning back against the wall and observing them all.
“Well, let’s say I haven’t ruled you out.”
She snorted. “I think I’ve heard enough. I’ll be outside. I need to speak with you after, Colby.” She set her unfinished cup of coffee down and dropped a cigarette into Asher’s on her way out the door. His nostrils flared. Jessie chuckled.
Johnson had about enough of the finger pointing. He stepped into the midst of them, trying to wrangle in the meeting that was quickly getting out of control. “What matters right now is that we assess where the weak spots are in this community. We can then fortify them, and add additional security in the wards. If anything, this could work in our favor.”
“Could it?” Asher asked.
“Man, when is someone going to put a muzzle on you?” Jessie said.
“How about you try?”
“Gladly,” Jessie said, rising from his seat.
Asher didn’t move an inch but the stranger beside him with the short mohawk did.
“Oh, have you met Kenzo? My adopted son,” Asher said.
He towered over Jessie, a looming threat.
“Sit down. All of you!” Johnson bellowed, getting between them before things kicked off. Johnson glared. “Jessie, apologize.”
“Me?”
Asher gave a smug grin. Kenzo didn’t smile. He had this deadpan expression; a quiet confidence Colby had seen in others. The silent ones were often dangerous.
“I told you this is not the place for personal jabs. If you want to do that, you take it elsewhere.”
Jessie took hold of Nina’s hand. “Then I guess we will. Stupid idiots. I hope someone burns this whole fucking city to the ground with all you morons in it,” he added before walking out.
There was awkward tension. Eyes turned to Colby as if people were expecting him to leave. He didn’t. He was keen to hear the rest. “Do you have anything you’d like to add, Colby?”
“Before you try to deal with the problem before you, you might want to deal with the one right under your nose. You can’t agree on anything and people are looking to you for answers.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Johnson asked.
“Maybe it’s time to change leadership. Kick out a few troublemakers,” Colby said glancing at Asher.
Asher narrowed his eyes and shifted in his seat. “The last I heard, the only ones causing trouble around here were the Rikers and the Stricklands. Maybe it’s your kind that needs to be kicked out.”
“Yeah? And will you be the one to do it?” Colby closed the gap between them, towering over his small five-foot-two frame. Kenzo didn’t move. Asher smiled. “I didn’t think so.” Colby glanced at Johnson. “I appreciate the invite, sheriff, but it looks as if you have bigger issues to resolve right here. Once that’s dealt with, you come look for me and maybe I will offer some ideas. Until then I’ll leave you children to squabble,” he said leaving the room.
Chapter Eight
John Boone observed faint wisps of black smoke rising above Eureka from the safety of Woodley Island. He was north of the city, across the channel. It had been years since he’d been over at the marina. At one time each of the nine docks would have been filled with boats, now few remained. A hard breeze blew against his face as he sat on the roof of Woodley’s Bar, thinking about how he would make Eureka pay for locking him up. They’d been there all night watching the comings and goings of locals. Seeing what kind of security they had in place and where the holes were. There were always holes. Entry points overlooked. A lack of security.
“Word has it, the Rikers have moved into the city,” Tyler said.
“Cowards. What about the Stricklands?”
“No one has seen them.”
He had an axe to grind with both families. They’d done him wrong, especially the Stricklands, but he’d gladly bring a hammer down on both of them. The second day out of the pen, Tyler wanted him to lash out, but time inside had given him thought to pause. Before he’d been rash and quick to react. Not this time. Now, he would take his time, pick them apart and work from the shadows.
“What did you make of the fire last night?”
“It seems our man on the inside came through. They looked like chickens with their heads lopped off. Running around. Frantic.” He chuckled. “By the time I’m finished with them, they’ll wish they died in that fire.”
It wouldn’t be easy. They had security but he wasn’t going to just settle into a quiet life in the hills and do nothing. “I think we’ll start with the Stricklands. Luke. Then…”
“He’s dead.”
“What?”
“Luke Strickland, and two of his brothers. Hung from a bridge by Alby Riker.”
“Alby did that?”
“Hell yeah. It was all people could talk about for several weeks.”
“Huh. He was inside but didn’t say what he’d done.”
“Probably wise,” Tyler added. “The Stricklands have their fingers everywhere.”
“He was on the bus with us. Shit. Had I known that, I would have shaken his hand.”
“A Riker?”
“Okay, maybe not.” He patted his brother and got up and made his way down.
“So? What now?”
“Nothing.”
He hopped down off the roof
