Page 42 of Flash Freeze

In the stark room, under the lights, the woman looked much older than her forty-eight years. Dark circles lined her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. “Am I under arrest?”

“I’m afraid so,” Harmon said. “But we’re prepared to offer you a deal in exchange for your cooperation and testimony in the bombing, arson, and murder case currently under investigation.”

Her brown eyes sharpened, and her posture straightened. “I had nothing to do with any of that. In fact, I was relieved to discover someone intentionally set the fire. I was horrified to think it had been an accident caused by something I blindly signed off on as safe. It was killing me to think people had died because of what I did. When one of the fire investigators said bomb, I could finally breathe again. I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, but you have to understand—”

“We do,” Athena said. “You’ve built a distinguished career, lost your husband and his income, were left with a mortgage, medical bills, three children, and sometimes life isn’t fair. That’s why AUSA Harmon is here. Are you sure you don’t want a legal advisor present?”

“Does Raymond know?” Sorrow and regret filled her eyes as they brimmed with tears.

“FBI Director Smith is talking with the chief now, I believe.”

Velasquez dropped her face into her hands and sobbed.

Athena felt bad for her but maintained her professional demeanor. Will Flash be more shocked, angry, or sad when I tell her? And who will she be madder at—the assistant chief or me?

“Sorry,” Velasquez uttered, sniffing. “I’m so sorry!”

“Take a moment to compose yourself,” Harmon said, “then go through everything with us from the beginning.”

Bach slid a packet of tissues across the table to her. “Thank you,” she said, drew one out, and wiped her eyes and nose. After a few bracing breaths, Velasquez raised her chin. “I’m ready.”

The room fell into silence. Athena wondered if Mr. Smith and Chief Burks were in the booth watching by now. Grief hung heavy in the air, as this was a twist nobody was prepared for.

“About a year and a half ago, the manager of the Houston Gulf Allied Chemicals plant approached me in the school parking lot while I was waiting to pick up Jada. Her older brother and sister go to the high school, but she’s only in junior high. I don’t want her riding a bus or trying to walk home alone. She … it just wouldn’t be good. So, I either pick her up myself or arrange a ride with one of my trusted friends.”

She let out a breath and folded her hands in front of her, appearing calmer, then continued. “He knew about my financial struggles and that the bank was about to foreclose and take my house, though I don’t know how he found out. Anyway, he presented me with a proposal, offering me money if I ignored safety violations and passed his plant. Because of past infractions, they were required to be inspected every six months rather than annually. I rarely perform safety inspections myself, but I’m certified to and have access to the forms and reports.

“I would never have agreed, almost didn’t. I have my reputation, my integrity, the career I love and have worked so hard to build.” She swallowed, glancing down at her hands. “But there were the medical bills, the house, my children.” There was fire in her eyes when she lifted them. “Do you know how much it costs just to bury someone? We had my husband’s life insurance policy, but it wasn’t enough. We depended on both our incomes. I was in mourning and overwhelmed by it all. It was a very low point, and I’m ashamed, but I took his money. At the time, it felt like a fortuitous lifeline, a way to keep my family safe.”

“Did Mr. Booker say where he got the money?” Bach asked.

She shook her head. “He said this wasn’t how he’d like it to go, that he wished the board and CEO of the company would invest the money required to bring the Houston plant up to code. He assured me he was on top of the day-to-day and would make sure no fires broke out. It sounded nice, but I knew nobody could guarantee that. Still, I took the money, showed up for a mock inspection, and checked the boxes.”

“But you didn’t deposit the check,” said Bach.

“No. I didn’t want anyone asking questions, so I took it to a check-cashing place. I took two months’ back mortgage payments to the bank in cash to get caught up and pulled cash out of the lockbox at home I kept it in for groceries, gas, school expenses, and prescriptions at the pharmacy. The regular bills kept coming out of my bank account as always.”

Velasquez glanced down the row at all of them. “It saved us, kept us afloat. But I couldn’t stop. If I told him no the next time, Mr. Booker said he’d make sure Chief Burks found out I’d taken the bribe. I’d be disgraced, my career ruined. I guess that’s happened now.”

She closed her eyes, tears forming in the corners, and lowered her chin.

“What about CEO Whitmore?” Athena asked.

Surprised, Velasquez blinked and looked up. “As far as I know, he wasn’t involved. Mr. Booker never mentioned him except to complain that his boss didn’t care about any of them.”

“Did Mr. Booker mention EPA inspector Nolan was coming?” Bach asked.

“No. I only talked to him twice,” she replied. “The first day and again after the second inspection, when I tried to back out. Mr. Booker might not have been honest or operating within the law, but I can tell you this—he would never have set a bomb or fire that would have put his employees’ lives at risk. He thought of them as his family. He said it was up to him to keep the plant open so they wouldn’t lose their jobs. Then he called me an angel for helping, but all I’ve ever felt was guilty. I thought about telling Chief Burks so many times but just couldn’t.”

“Do you know where Mr. Booker got the money to pay you to pass the inspections?” Athena had begun to worry the deal wouldn’t hold up if Velasquez couldn’t provide any usable information.

“The checks came from Allied Logistics, but I don’t know who that is,” she answered.

“Did you see real, troubling issues when you were at the plant?” asked Bach. His tone sounded as frustrated as Athena felt.

“I walked around, checking off boxes,” she admitted. “The fire extinguishers were properly mounted and in working order. Nothing blocked emergency exits. The fire alarms were functional. Booker had most of the basics covered. It was just old valves that leaked a little, worn-out gaskets, rickety platforms with joints that had been re-welded a dozen times. There were some troubling odors that I would have tested if performing a true inspection. It was like, on the surface, things looked OK, but a deeper dive might have turned up reasons to fail the safety check.”

“Back to the bomb and the fire,” AUSA Harmon said, drawing the woman’s attention. “Based on your knowledge as a career firefighter, how likely would you find it that an explosive of the potency used would result in loss of life?”