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Matt ordered the same thing she had. She offered him some of her fries while he waited; he shook his head. He told the table Michael’s theory about the detonation had been confirmed. According to their skilled munitions expert, the bomb onWater Lilyhad been set to detonate when the boat reached a speed of between eighteen and twenty knots.
Jim nodded. “A line or weight was probably attached to the device, dropped in the water, and when the boat reached that speed, the tension ignited the charge andboom.”
Matt looked impressed. “In a nutshell, that’s exactly it.”
“Simple and smart,” Jim said.
“So simple that anyone can do it?” Kara asked.
“Simple enough that you don’t need to be an expert like Michael to create this device,” Matt said, “though some basic skills would be necessary.”
“The internet has a wealth of subversive information,” Ryder said. “My cybercrime class at Quantico went deep into studying the dark web for a week.”
“I’m familiar with the dark web,” Matt said, “but someone still needs access to C-4 and they most likely need basic engineering knowledge.”
“Or someone who practiced,” Kara said. “Couldn’t they have ignited a much smaller bomb somewhere else? In the middle of the ocean? Something that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, might not even be noticed?”
“Definitely,” Jim said. “If I were going to plan something like this, I would want to know that it was going to work.”
“It depends on the motive—if it was to cause death or destruction.”
“Or both,” Kara said, eating the last of her fries.
“Do you have a theory?” Matt asked. The first direct question he’d asked her tonight.
“Nope.”
She was beginning to formulate a theory, but it was still rough around the edges. She didn’t think it was the environmental group because it was overkill. If they’d blown up the boat while docked in the middle of the night, yep, she’d buy it. Aim at West End, make a statement, whatever. But killing nine people? The fact that Michael proved that the bomb was designed to go off when the boat was moving fast—out-of-the-harbor-area fast—told her someone on board was the target.
“I think you do,” Jim said. He drained his beer.
“I’m going to finish my interviews first,” she said. “And review Neil’s notes with Ryder. Speaking of that, Ryder, we need to reach out to that woman listed on his calendar. Mott?”
“Jessica Mott, a sister of one of the dead college students,” Ryder said. “I have her contact information.”
“Why is she important?” Matt asked. “Do you think she has information about Neil’s investigation into the cold case?”
“It’s likely,” Ryder said. “Her name is in his address book with multiple contact numbers and emails. He met with her in January in Seattle, and last year she came up here twice to meet him. I left a message for her earlier and asked if she would be willing to talk to us, possibly come up and look at Neil’s files.”
“Why do you need her to come here?” Matt asked.
“I think something’s missing,” Ryder said, “but I don’t know what. The information about the Mowich Lake drownings seems complete, but I don’t know for certain. And Neil’s desk seemed... I don’t know, empty. Except for the cold case.”
“If you think it’s important, make it happen.”
Rena the waitress returned to take their plates. “How was everything?”
Kara said, “Amazing.”
“I know, right? Best fish on the island, and that’s saying something. Can I get you another pitcher?”
“I wish, but I have an early morning.” She glanced at Jim and Matt, and they concurred.
The place was bustling. “Busy,” Kara said. “Are you covering all these tables?”
“Yeah, but people are mostly patient, and Pete helps a lot. Jamie will be back tomorrow.”
Kara’s instincts twitched. That was Cal McKinnon’s fiancée. “Jamie Finch?”
