Page 20 of Flash Freeze

Unwilling simply to sit in silence, Bach launched into a rather one-sided discourse about the Houston Rockets and their basketball season thus far. Athena remembered what happened to the city in 2021: almost a week below freezing, snow and ice covering everything, widespread outages that nearly overwhelmed the state’s power grid, and a general state of panic. No, they did not need that now.

Chapter 10

Agent Travis Ice sat at his desk beside his buddy, Hernandez, looking up the FBI’s who’s who of bombings and arsons in the Gulf region. He’d rather be out on the streets. The ex-Marine craved action, not slogging through digital records and reports. Add his anxiety over the approaching winter storm, and he itched to get moving. Hurricanes, tornadoes, and heatwaves he could handle. Floods were par for the course. But snowstorms?

He remembered a chilling tragedy during a joint NATO exercise—the Nordic Response training mission, Cold Response, in Norway. The drills simulated real-world warfare in one of the most unforgiving climates on Earth, where weather conditions can flip on a dime, and the margins for error are razor thin. Ice buildup on the blades, combined with powerful, changing winds, brought down an MV-22B Osprey, killing all aboard. He’d never forget the surreal image of the big tiltrotor aircraft spinning helplessly into the side of a mountain or the terrible crunch of metal against rock.

On another occasion, a thin crust of ice had given way beneath Travis, sending him into a ravine. The day he spent wedged between two rock walls, waiting to be rescued, his feet dangling over a bottomless pit, had left him slightly claustrophobic. That experience is one reason he requested to be assigned to a warm-climate field office.

He’d compiled a list of three strong suspects as a bomber-for-hire and started on the Green Resistance roster when his boss and the Houston Police detective returned. Bouvier held a green file organizer and a notebook, while Bach squeezed a laptop under his arm. “Reports,” she ordered briskly.

Some people didn’t like the special agent in charge because they thought she was too cold and bossy, but Travis appreciated that she got to the point. Would those same detractors fault a man for being direct? Having had a few women in positions above him in the Marine Corps, Travis had become comfortable with female bosses. Honestly, the only thing that mattered was their capability to do the job.

Travis sprang to his feet, gripping his three printout sheets. “Butler, Nasif, and Lucero. Butler was a suspect in two bombings and an arson but never had one stick. Nasif and Lucero have both done time and are currently out and about in the city.”

“I found two more likely candidates,” Hernandez added. Bouvier nodded to him.

Campbell jumped in. “I’ve been whittling my way through the front gate security footage, starting with Friday just before the explosion and working my way backward. So far, I’ve only identified vehicles belonging to employees and Inspector Nolan.”

“How far back have you gotten?” Athena asked.

“Nine a.m.,” he answered, his tone losing its enthusiasm.

“I finished my background check on our victim,” Karen spoke up, rising from her seat and twisting to face Bouvier. Ice liked her, as he might a little sister. Totally not his type, but she sure was a dedicated agent. Worked hard, even though it seemed she might snap like a twig if a bad guy ever touched her.

Bouvier shifted her attention to Shoops and raised a brow.

Karen pushed up her glasses. “He’s made quite a few corporate enemies in Texas and southern Louisiana, particularly in the petroleum products sector. Plenty of recorded threats going back fifteen years. I made a list. Oh, and last year, in addition to citing Gulf Allied Chemicals, he also failed Lone Star Industrial’s EPA inspection. They had to pay a fine as well.”

“Good work.”

Travis screwed up his face. Why didn’t she say “good work” to me?

“I’m about to start on Whitmore and Kerrington unless you have something else for me.” Karen twisted her fingers and chewed on her lip.

“Actually, I do.”

Ice had to admire ASAC Bouvier, and not just her legs. Gorgeous, smart, and knows exactly what she wants. And while she might be old enough to be Karen’s mother, she wasn’t that much older than him. Too bad she’s taken up with that woman firefighter.

“You and Campbell take half the names on the bomber/arsonist suspect list, and Ice and Hernandez take the others. Find out what they’ve been up to, where they were Thursday night and Friday morning, and bring them in if anything doesn’t add up.”

“Yeah,” Travis said as he lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s make an arrest before the snow and ice get here.”

Bouvier gave him a withering look. “Are you suggesting the U.S. mail service is superior to the FBI, Agent Ice?”

“No, ma’am.” He pushed his arms through the sleeves and straightened his lapels. “Just not fond of snow.”

“And don’t forget,” she called after them as all four agents moved toward the exit. “With probable cause and exigent circumstances, you don’t need a warrant to search, but don’t go maverick. We don’t want a defense attorney getting evidence excluded from trial.”

“No mavericks here,” Hernandez called cheerily as he pushed open the doors.

Travis heard Bouvier say something to Detective Bach about taking deep dives into CEOs Whitmore and Kerrington before the door swung closed behind them.

“We call dibs on Butler, Nasif, and Lucero,” Travis said, and passed the other sheets to Campbell. He thought it would have made better sense to pair Samuel or himself with petite Agent Shoops, but figured the boss had a reason. He knew Bouvier wanted to encourage the junior agent and had let her go out into the field more often in the past several months. Still? He let it go.

They arrived at Butler’s residence first, a typical suburban home with a privacy fence bearing a “Beware of Dog” sign. The dog, if there was one, didn’t bark. A White man, smaller than either of them, peeped from behind a chain-latched crack in the door.

Hernandez held up his badge. “Wayne Butler?” The man stared at them with a superior demeanor and a smug face. He stepped outside and closed his door. It was easy to understand why he’d been suspected of multiple crimes. The vibe he gave off was creepy, to say the least. He talked around answers to questions, his spidery fingers tapping their pads together, his dark hair slicked down under a cap.