She turned to the lieutenant.
“It’s your case,” he said, watching both of them. “We’ll play it however you want.”
West took a deep breath, thinking. “You have an address for him?” The policeman nodded.
“Let’s not go in too heavy. Let’s just see if he’s there.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The two special agents traveled together, following the lieutenant in a squad car, with another following behind. The island looked nothing like West remembered it, covered in its blanket of snow. But the day was heating up now, and the covering was rapidly melting away, the roads were slushy and wet. The little convoy made its way towards Silverlea, and took the turn off for Littlelea, the tiny clifftop community where Billy Wheatley was listed as living, with his father Sam Wheatley.
They turned off the Littlelea road into a driveway, and West had a clear recollection of coming here, years before, that time to arrest Billy’s father. They rounded a corner, and were presented with the same view, the whole of Silverlea’s broad stretch of sand, laid out below them.
“Whoa!” Black said, and West just met his eyes.
“Truck’s here,” she said, pulling her eyes back to the parking area outside the little house, where a red Toyota pick-up sat. It looked in better condition to the one they’d found those years before, but then the whole house did, better maintained. They both got out, and with the Lieutenant, went to the front door. When they knocked, the door opened at once.
“Sam Wheatley?” West remembered him clearly. He looked a little greyer on top, but it was the same guy she’d dragged out of the cave entrance, the same guy she’d sat and talked to in the hospital in those weeks afterwards.
“Detective West?” Wheatley cocked his head onto one side. He took in the other officers too. “What is this?”
“No it…” West hesitated. “It’s Special Agent West now.” She stopped. “Is your son… Is Billy here?”
“Billy?” Wheatley frowned. “No! Why would he be here? More to the point, why are you here?”
West hesitated so long that Black took over. He flipped open his ID and showed it to Wheatley.
“We have reason to believe your son may have some information regarding a bomb attack on a chemical facility last night. Is he here please?”
Sam Wheatley barely registered the ID. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry Sam, I know this is a shock,” West found her voice again. “It’s a shock to me as well, but my partner is correct. We do need to speak to him.”
There was a silence as Sam Wheatley looked at all of them, staring back at him, without friendly expressions on their faces.
“Well, like I said, he’s not here.”
“Where is he?” Black demanded at once.
“I don’t know, and if I did I don’t think I’d tell you.”
“Obstructing a federal investigation is a felony crime…” Black began, but West cut him off.
“Sam – could we maybe come inside? And talk about this. It may be there’s some mistake but we do have to get it cleared up.”
There was a silence while Sam Wheatley considered, but then he stepped back from blocking the door.
They all took a seat at a small kitchen table. Except Sam, who stayed standing.
“So what the hell is all this about then?”
No one answered him.
“Could you please tell us where Billy is? Is he still living here?”
“No.”
“No?”
“He’s at college.”
“College? He’s seventeen?”
“He’s a smart kid. They bumped him up a year.”
The officers exchanged glances at this.
“I see,” West was the one who spoke. “Which college?”
“Boston. Boston University. Why is this important?”
“And he’s there now, you believe?”
“Yeah. He is.”
“You have an address for him there?”
Sam Wheatley didn’t move for a while, but then he started rummaging in a pile of paperwork on the work top. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a letter with the letterhead of the BU Accommodation office. It listed a room let out to one B. Wheatley.
“You mind if we keep this?”
Sam shrugged. “You mind telling me what this is all about?”
“OK.” West met his eyes and nodded slowly. “OK.” She said again, then took a deep breath.
“My partner and I have been investigating a series of bomb attacks on chemical plants within the eastern states. The latest one took place last night, and your son’s fingerprint was found on shards of metal from the bomb.”
Sam was silent, then after a while he laughed. “Bullshit.”
“The company in question is called Fonchem,” West went on. “I understand Billy was engaged in some form of protest against it?” She indicated toward the pile of papers where he had fished out the letter from the accommodation office. On the top was a small poster that said in large letters: SAVE OUR SEA-DRAGONS. Below it, in a smaller font, were the words. Stop Fonchem. Sam Wheatley stopped laughing.
“Fonchem?”
“Yes.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and his lips even moved, but no sound came out. Then he turned away. When he looked back his face was resolute again. Determined.
“No. There’s no way Billy would do anything like that. No way on earth.”
“We think the bomber is a committed environmentalist. With an agenda to force these companies to reduce their impact. Cut their waste. That sort of thing. I know Billy was very keen on marine animals. He sent me a lot of stuff about it. Papers he was writing.”
Sam Wheatley just stared at her.
“What’s he studying Sam? What subject is he doing at college?”
His jaw jutted out before he answered. “Biology. Marine Biology.”
A few minutes later, Black asked the police lieutenant to sit with Wheatley, and took West outside.
“Look Jess, I don’t know quite what’s going on here, but we need to send a team to his student address. Right now!”
She didn’t answer. But after a moment she nodded, only the action was so slight her partner didn’t notice it.
“He’s seventeen, we’ve seen he’s got a grudge against the company, and his goddamn fingerprint was on a bomb fragment. That’s enough to convict, let alone
