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“No one recognized me, no one will. I sat right behind Ashley Dunlap, who I interviewed this morning—she didn’t give me a second glance. I got myself introduced to Donna Bell and she wants to have coffee with me to discuss her nonprofit.” She pulled the glasses out of her pocket and put them on. “The point is, I know how to blend in, I know how to infiltrate a group, and even if they pegged me for a cop—which they didn’t—it doesn’t matter because I don’t need to go back.”
Catherine said, “Matt’s point is that your presencecouldhave created problems for our investigation, in addition to the necessity of having backup in case the situation turned bad.”
“I wasn’t infiltrating Antifa or the Aryan Brotherhood,” she snapped. Maybe she shouldn’t have, but what was Catherine’s problem? “I have information to share, then I’m going to bed.”
“We need to address this breach of protocol,” Catherine said, focusing on Matt, not Kara. “We could be dealing with an entrapment issue when we talk to Martin and Sokola.”
“That’s bullshit,” Kara said. “I didn’t even talk to them. We were in a public place, anything they said was in a public place.”
“In the future,” Matt said, cutting off something Catherine clearly wanted to say, “let’s talk about these ideas first, okay? Kara, you’re part of a team now, and I know you are used to doing things your own way. But we need to weigh multiple angles and—”
“I would have lost the small window of opportunity I had,” Kara said. She was not backing down on this. “Look, here’s the information you need. When Craig Martin and Valerie Sokola show up tomorrow, they’ll be with a lawyer named Larry that Donna is retaining for them. Donna also told everyone else—including young Ashley—they don’t have to talk to any cop, and if they get arrested or harassed, to call her and she’ll get them a lawyer. Ashley gave Donna a copy of all the pictures she turned over to us—and apparently, the teen has been tracking West End boats for quite some time, taking lots of pictures, so maybe we can find out if she has anything else we can use. Oh, and Donna told everyone there, all forty of them, that if they have information about the bombing to callher, not the police, and she’ll talk to the sheriff. There’s a big protest on the Fourth of July that they’re preparing for. And Donna thinks you’re a jerk, Matt. Good night.”
She walked down the hall to the small room she’d claimed because she didn’t want to be upstairs with everyone else.
She was not going to put up with this bullshit from Dr. Catherine Jones. The woman didn’t like her, fine. But she wasn’t going to be treated as a rookie cop who didn’t know what she was doing.Hellno.
She stripped and walked into the small bathroom off her room. She took a long, hot shower, mostly because she was so frustrated. She washed out the gel, scrubbed her face, stood under the water until she felt calmer.
When she was done, she pulled on a tank top and panties, keeping her sweats draped over a chair, her shoes on the floor next to her bed, in case she had to run out quickly. She sat down at her laptop and banged out an “official” report and sent it to Matt. Just the facts. What she saw, why she followed Ashley Dunlap, everyone she met, spoke to, what they said, how they sounded, and why she thoughtifCraig Martin or Valerie Sokola was responsible they could nail Craig on the guilt card. He was no killer, and if he bombed the boat his guilt would be eating him up.
Then she added her opinion.
Craig Martin wants to belong as well as do good. He’s head over heels for Valerie, but he’s also a family kid—close to his kid brother. He’s not a criminal at heart, though I’m not surprised he followed his girlfriend down that path. Valerie Sokola is a crime waiting to happen, but you can’t arrest her on that. She’s angry and volatile and an agitator. If there’s any more vandalism in town, my money is on her. She’s the kind of activist who would throw rocks at cars and hit cops in the eye with a laser. But murder? I don’t see it. Make sure you separate the two if you run at them. Valerie won’t talk, but Craig will—just play on the tragedy and he’ll break down if he was involved, or if he has useful information.
Earlier, she had longed for a good night’s sleep, but now she was tense. She stared out the lone window into the night and wished she wasn’t in the same house as the others.
She heard people walking around upstairs, then the house fell silent.
It was midnight.
She left her room and, without turning on the kitchen light, opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. Twisted off the cap. Drank. Sat down on the counter and considered her options.
She’d expected Matt to back her up. Not because they were sleeping together, but because she was right—and he should have seen it. He should have been there for her, professionally.
And he wasn’t.
Matt walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxers.
“Kara,” he said, surprised.
“Good night,” she said, putting her beer down and sliding off the counter.
He took her arm. “You’re angry.”
“No, of course not.” She stared at him. “Angry? Me? Being lectured like I’m a fucking rookie cop who doesn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground?” It took all her willpower to keep her voice low.
“I’m sorry I came off like that—”
“You didn’t. She did. And you didn’t back me up.”
“It’s a matter of protocol.”
“Bullshit.”
“Please—I miss you.”
“Miss me?”
