Page 25 of Flash Freeze

“This is a replay of a press conference from earlier today,” Bach said and clicked the mouse.

An elegant, sophisticated woman with every strand of her platinum-blonde hair in place stood at an outdoor wooden podium, speaking into a barrage of microphones representing every Houston media outlet. Athena recognized Amanda Kerrington before her name, along with “CEO of Lone Star Industrial Materials,” scrolled across the bottom of the screen. She was in her late fifties but could easily pass for a much younger woman. The quality of her attire, her subtly exquisite jewelry, and her poise proclaimed her station as a woman of means.

“We at Lone Star wish to extend our most sincere condolences to the families of those killed at the Gulf Allied Chemicals fire on Friday.” Her tone and expression were as polished as the queen’s silver.

“While Mr. Charles Whitmore and I may be fierce competitors, it brings me great sorrow to learn of the attack on his Houston plant,” she continued. “It could just as easily have been our facility that was ruthlessly bombed, and we urge our law enforcement agencies to apprehend this cowardly felon as quickly as possible.”

We don’t actually need encouraging, but thank you, Athena thought to herself as she studied the powerful woman on the screen.

“That is why Lone Star has voted to contribute money, materials, and labor to help Gulf Allied get back on its feet swiftly.” Her keen eyes met the camera, making it appear she was speaking directly to the audience.

“Furthermore, I personally pledge to donate to the victims’ families a sum equal to their company insurance policies. This includes Federal EPA Inspector Jeff Nolan, whom I have had the privilege of meeting. And because this domestic terrorist might not be done with his rampage, Lone Star Industrial will award $200,000 for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the culprit. Environmental activists or foreign competitors who wish to tear us down will not intimidate our great state’s industry.”

No sooner had she concluded than a sea of reporters began calling out questions at once. Bach paused the playback. “Interesting, huh?”

“Indeed,” Athena concurred. Either she was sincere—and possibly worried something similar could happen to one of her plants—or this was all a publicity stunt to steer suspicion away from her.

“What I find most telling,” Bach said, “is that, despite scouring the internet, I’ve found no such public announcement from Whitmore.”

“Dude’s a douchebag,” Travis muttered under his breath. Athena’s glare bore into him, but she had to agree.

“He inherited Gulf Allied from his father, Alistair Nathaniel Whitmore III,” Athena informed the team. She’d spent the past several hours learning everything she could about CEO Charles Whitmore. He was fifty-four, with two grown children from his first marriage and a teenage daughter from his second. “Alistair built the Houston chemical plant in the 1970s, using money he inherited from a legacy of oil barons dating back more than a century—cattle ranchers before that.”

“No wonder the plant is so rusty and falling apart,” Bach said. “It looks like Whitmore hasn’t invested in a single improvement.”

“But he has been busy expanding,” Athena said, “with newer facilities in Beaumont, Corpus Christi, and Baton Rouge.”

“You’d think he’d pay more attention to his primary plant,” Campbell said, a puzzled look on his face. “The company headquarters is in Houston.”

“And his ranch,” Shoops added. She hunched when everyone focused on her. “What? It gets featured in Texas Living magazine every other year.”

Detective Bach regarded her with mock suspicion. “I’ll bet you’re a pixie mage.”

Karen blinked, her face going blank. “I beg your pardon?”

“In Dungeons and Dragons,” Bach clarified. “You play a pixie mage. Now, I prefer being an ogre barbarian so I can pummel monsters, but you strike me as the intellectual one—small but mighty.”

Agent Shoops’ cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.

“Can we stay focused on the case, please?” Athena’s glare could have ignited wet kindling. “Anything else to report before we adjourn for the night?”

“Every vehicle that entered through the front gate traced back to someone on the payroll or a contracted service,” Campbell said with a sigh. “And I finally tracked down Reid, soundly alibied.”

“I started running members of the Green Resistance and the other two pro-environmental groups,” Karen said. “No red flags yet, but we had to leave to check out the bomber/arsonist suspects.”

“We’ve got more records to sift through,” Hernandez said. “And we should branch out to neighboring states.”

“Ice?” Athena turned to the capable agent.

“We haven’t gotten all the findings back from the lab yet,” he said. “And Ms. Kerrington brought up a good point. I think someone should start looking into foreign competitors tomorrow.”

“They might have a motive to damage the chemical plant,” Athena agreed, “but not for killing Nolan. The strongest scenario I see right now is using the explosion and fire to cover up the murder, making it appear Nolan died in the blast. Still, it’s possible the murder and bomb were unrelated, so we have to pursue all avenues of investigation. Go home. Eat, sleep, relax. Tomorrow, we hit it hard.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Travis said.

When Athena headed toward her office instead of the door, Bach asked, “Aren’t you going home too?”

“Soon,” she answered. With a shrug, he opted to escort Karen to the elevator. With no one watching, Athena snickered and shook her head before retreating into her office. She just needed to lock down a few details before heading to Flash’s loft for a home-cooked meal and to pet Snuffles.