Page 19 of Flash Freeze

An officer picked up a laptop computer and slid it into an evidence bag.

“Hey, wait!” Cody rushed over to him barefoot. “That’s mine. You can’t—”

“You insisted on the warrant,” Athena said. “You could have given us what we asked for yesterday.”

“So what? Now you’re punishing me? Look, I have to protect the privacy of my group members. They don’t trust the government as it is. This is more fuel for our distrust.” Turning to the officer, he snapped, “Be careful with that.”

Bach said, “Your property will be returned to you once we have the information we need, Mr. Rivers. I have to ask you to stay out of the way or step outside.”

“Hell.” He plopped into a chair, his head falling into his hands. “In the second desk drawer, there’s a big, green file organizer thing. It’s got attendance records and minutes for all our meetings for the past year. There’s a calendar with activity dates marked and everything. We operate within the law, unjust as it is sometimes.”

The sounds of drawers and cabinets opening and closing echoed through the house as the officers and lab tech searched and swabbed. Athena pulled on blue nitrile gloves and removed a green accordion folder from the desk along the wall, carefully perusing other papers. She then retrieved a notebook and flipped through handwritten pages.

“Is this your journal?” she asked. “A manifesto?”

“Hey!” Cody sprang from the chair, lurching toward her. Bach caught his arm. “That’s private.”

Athena skimmed a few pages. It read like a hipster’s version of Thoreau’s Walden. “You are truly passionate about your cause,” she noted. She closed the notebook and kept it with the file folder.

“Of course I am,” he retorted. “I’m no poser.”

In the drawers, Athena found lots of pens, pencils, index cards, old letters, and some insurance papers, but nothing else relevant. She poked around the living room while Bach looked under every cushion and piece of furniture. Cody seemed to have woken up and resigned himself to the search.

When the officers returned, they reported finding no suspicious materials. The crime scene tech photographed the residence, dusted selected surfaces for prints, and collected swabs from several work areas for explosive residue testing.

“I told you I had nothing to do with that fire,” Cody brooded from beneath narrowed brows. “And please don’t harass our members. Some are young mothers with small children.”

Athena caught his gaze. “I suspect those would be the most motivated to fiercely protect the environment, Mr. Rivers, even if they don’t fall into the typical bomber/arsonist demographic. We’ll return your property upon conclusion of our investigation.”

“What?” he questioned tentatively. “Months from now? I need my laptop for work.”

“We should have what we need from your laptop much sooner than that,” Bach assured him. “Stay where we can find you.”

They left to the sound of Cody’s frustrated sighs. Once in the car, Bach powered up the laptop he’d collected from his officer while Athena thumbed through the paper records. “I’d like to get my agents started interviewing the most likely suspects from this roster,” she said.

“Do you really think one of the environmentalists bombed the chemical plant?” Bach didn’t sound convinced.

“No. I lean toward much bigger fish, more like a great white shark,” Athena confessed. “But we need to eliminate every alternative before trying to land him.”

Bach turned from the computer screen to look at her. “Charles Whitmore is a rich and powerful man.”

“I’m aware,” she answered coolly, her gaze not leaving the papers she browsed. “We need to run these names. Is there an electronic copy of the files?”

Returning a pensive stare to the screen, he answered, “Yeah, right here.”

“Email it to my office. I’ll have the team get started.” Athena pushed the ignition button. In electric mode, the car made no sound. She called Karen. “Detective Bach is sending a file over. Get everyone busy running the names.”

Bach hit the send button, then closed the laptop. “So, what do you think about the prediction of snow and freezing weather?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I don’t know,” he countered, interest returning to his voice. “It was pretty rough back in ’21, around this time of year too.”

“I remember,” Athena said, pulling out into traffic. “And I recall all the times meteorologists cried wolf. Sometimes I think they just do it for ratings.”

“Could be.” Bach stared out the window at rows of houses as they drove by. “It doesn’t freeze here often, but, when we do get winter weather, nobody’s prepared. It’s a nightmare.”

“We’ve got a case to focus on, Detective,” Athena declared. “Let’s hope the predictions have grossly overstated the tiny freeze we’re likely to get.”