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“Where were you last night between three and four a.m.?” Matt asked.
“Home,” Craig said. “I didn’t do anything. I swear to God, I didn’t do anything.”
Barker said, “Just answer the question asked, Craig.”
“But I didn’t. I didn’t set any bombs. You said three and four, and I was home. My girlfriend and I have an apartment on Carter.”
Matt knew that from his file.
“What time did you get home?”
“After the IP meeting last night. It broke up around nine forty-five. Val and I went to get food, and got home at eleven. And that was it. Watched TV, went to bed. I swear.”
“Craig,” Barker said, putting his hand on the young man’s arm. “Agent Costa, I know that the security guard was killed shortly after his shift was over, at three a.m. My clients were home together at their apartment at that time. You have nothing, and we’re going.”
“No, you’re not,” Matt said. “Your clients need a better alibi than each other, considering they were arrested last year for vandalizing the dock adjacent to the boathouse that exploded this morning. I have a morgue filled with ten dead. Ten people, including friends of yours, Mr. Martin. I know you graduated high school with Kyle Richards. You both played baseball together, isn’t that right?”
“Yeah. Kyle and I were friendly, well, until last year.”
“What happened last year?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” Barker said.
Catherine said, “Is it because of the vandalism? Was Kyle angry because of what you and Valerie did?”
“Yeah, exactly. I mean, it was so stupid and I’m really sorry. I’m still paying for it. I apologized to all of them, and Kyle—but you know.” Craig shrugged.
Catherine asked, “Was Valerie home last night?”
“Yeah—” he began at the same time that Barker said, “You don’t have to answer that.”
“But she was! I don’t want them to think Val could have done this. We were both home. We were together all night. I swear to God, we didn’t set that bomb.”
“Do you know who did?” Catherine asked.
“No. If I did, I’d tell you. I’d tell you so you’d know it wasn’t me or Val. But I don’t know who would do this. I swear to God, I don’t know.”
Valerie wasn’t as forthcoming. She only gave yes and no answers, but ultimately confirmed everything that Craig had said. Matt had no option but to cut them loose.
“Well?” he asked Catherine.
“I don’t think either one of these kids are capable of planning something like this, though we should keep the pressure on them for a while, in case I’m wrong.”
Deputy Redfield approached them. “Bobby Martin is here. I have him at my desk.”
Matt followed the deputy and saw a taller, skinnier version of Craig Martin sitting there, a ball cap twisted in his hands. “Bobby Martin?” Matt said.
He stood. “Yes, sir.”
Polite.
“Thank you for coming in. This won’t take long.” Matt introduced himself and Catherine. “Can we get you a Coke? Water?”
“No, sir. I have to get back to work. I mean, I can go back to work, right?”
“Of course. This won’t take long.” Matt led him to a small conference room. Bobby hadn’t asked for his lawyer, and Matt didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or suspicious. He closed the door and motioned for him to take a seat. “I called you in because a witness saw you walking along the edge of the West End property between four thirty and five this morning. Were you there?”
“I—Yes, sir, I was.”
