“Did you check his house?” Duke asked.
“As soon as we discovered the body and his vehicle, we called Jonah’s house. No answer. I did a well-being check. No obvious disturbance.”
Jonah often worked late at Butcher-Payne, especially after Trevor, his son, had enlisted in the military when he turned eighteen last year.
Trevor. He was going to be devastated. “Have you contacted Jonah’s son in Iraq?”
“Not yet. I needed to confirm the victim’s identity before notifying any next of kin.”
Duke jerked his head toward the reporter standing only a few feet away not so discreetly eavesdropping. “Trevor may hear about it sooner in the news. I’ll call him.”
When Sanger glanced at the reporter, the journalist took it as a sign to approach.
“Hello, Rich,” Sanger said.
“I saw the M.E.’s car here. Is there a body?”
“I’ll be issuing a formal statement after I notify the next of kin.”
“I heard it’s Jonah Payne.”
Duke took a step toward the tall, skinny reporter, straightening his spine to reach his full six feet two inches. Through a tight jaw, he said, “I wouldn’t repeat that until it’s publicly announced.”
Rich took a step back, his hands up, a digital minirecorder in one hand. “Hey, I’m not an asshole.”
Sanger coughed into his hand. Duke grabbed the minirecorder, verified it was off, and took out the batteries before handing them back to the reporter. “I don’t give you permission to record me or quote me. Understand?”
“It’s cool, dude.” Rich put the recorder in one pocket and took a small spiral notepad from the other. “Lance, come on, give me something. I already saw the graffiti, I know it’s the same group that hit Langlier and Sac State. Is this ELF? ALF? Someone else? What’s going on?”
“When I know, you’ll know.”
“I spotted the arson investigator and a couple government cars. Is the FBI here? Have the feds taken over the case?”
Sanger bristled. A sore spot? Duke had contacts in the local FBI, he’d make inquiries about the other arsons, find out who was running the case. He could help since he had security and background information on all Butcher- Payne employees and vendors.
“The fire was extinguished less than two hours ago,” Sanger said. “We have a lot of work to do, and until I get answers, I’m not going on record with anything.”
Rich sighed, shoving his notebook into his jacket pocket. “Okay, okay, off-record. Is it Jonah Payne? Did he die in the fire?”
Sanger relented. “We have every reason to believe the victim is Jonah Payne, but we do not have confirmation and until we do, if I hear this in public I will make sure you are banned from every crime scene in Placer County as long as I’m sheriff.”
“I’m not going to say anything. I swear, Lance, trust me.”
Sanger simply shook his head.
Rich looked at Duke and tilted his chin up. “I know you.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Rich Belham, from the
He was waiting for an introduction, but Duke didn’t respond.
“Rogan!” Rich snapped his fingers when the name came to him. “Rogan-Caruso! Private security, right? You take care of the rich and famous.”
Duke tensed. Rogan-Caruso Protective Services handled a wide range of personal and corporate security issues, but inevitably the few high-profile clients they managed became the news. But he wasn’t about to get in a discussion about his company with a nosy reporter.
“Are you in charge of security here? How did the arsonists get in? Did they hack into your system?”
The silence was palpable. The reporter had hit the target dead center, and he knew it. Duke said, “I will be investigating the matter thoroughly and reporting my findings to law enforcement. What they do with the information is up to them.”
Rich turned to Sanger. “I heard the FBI was talking to Professor Cole at the college.”
Sanger’s hands twitched, his jaw tightening so hard Duke heard the joints click. “No comment.”
“Come on, you’ve been talking about Cole since the first arson. That he was instigating a riot. You arrested him for breaking into the courthouse three years ago and stealing the confidential settlement between the county and EnviroTech Supply.”
Duke remembered that controversy. The county was going after EnviroTech for illegal dumping, but before the trial there was a confidential agreement between the parties. It had been alleged that EnviroTech bribed high- ranking county officials to dump the lawsuit, and that the lawsuit was the county’s way of leveraging money from private business. It had been nasty, then seemed to disappear overnight.
“Leif Cole and I go way back,” Sanger said. “But you know that, Belham. Don’t go fishing in that lake.”
Sanger jerked his head toward Duke and said, “I want to show you something.” He held up the crime-scene tape for Duke to walk under. They walked just out of Rich Belham’s earshot.
“Damn, I hate that reporter,” said the sheriff.
“Who’s Professor Cole?” Duke asked quietly.
“Leif Cole, head of the social sciences department at Rose College.”
“You know him?”
“We went to school together. We used to be friends, but I don’t condone civil disobedience, and he’s gone too far too many times. Our dads worked for the lumber company and the four of us used to go hunting and camping together every summer. We were responsible out there, my dad wouldn’t have it any other way. When Leif went off to college, he changed. His big cause is genetic engineering. Thinks the entire world is going to crash and burn because of it, it’s practically a religion to him. His classes at the university are just brewing with trouble. I’ve talked to him about inciting these kids, and he thinks it’s a good thing if they can change the world.” He gestured toward Butcher-Payne. “I fear his rants have gone too far. This shouldn’t have happened.”
“The feds think BLF stands for Biotech Liberation Front, an anarchist group formed specifically against biotechnology, like the Animal Liberation Front, who release research animals and often destroy equipment. Most anarchist groups are loosely formed and there’s no obvious connection between the BLF and the ALF As far as I’m concerned, they’re all culpable. A few years ago, a group of teens burned down several houses that were under construction in Rocklin-a firefighter was seriously injured in the last one and is still on disability.”
“You think the ALF may have been involved with this fire? How many arsons are we talking about?” Duke was trying to be reasonable, he understood police investigations, but his friend Jonah was dead. How long was it going to take the FBI and police to get their act together? If they knew who was responsible, why hadn’t there been an arrest?
“The idiots in the ALF have all been arrested and are in prison. The soonest any of them will be released is late next year. Their ringleader has another decade.”
That would have been too easy, Duke thought. “And BLF?”
“This is the fourth arson that they have taken credit for.”
Duke didn’t miss that Sanger raised his voice a fraction as he continued. “The feds have talked to Cole several times, since he’s publicly advocated for the end of the biotech industry, but they don’t have anything solid.”
It was clear Sanger wanted the information out there. Belham, who stood just on the other side of the crime-scene tape, was writing as fast as Sanger spoke.
Sanger continued, “The feds are really mucking this up. The lead agent is this mightier-than-thou bitch. I’m on the regional domestic terrorism task force with her, and she’s so focused on the fucking procedures and rules that she makes bureaucrats look like party animals.”
Domestic terrorism? Duke almost smiled. If this was domestic terrorism there was only one agent who could
