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What the hell was going on? Matt turned to Ryder. “Where are we on Neil’s cases?”
“I’m meeting with Jessica Mott tomorrow. She may have some information about Neil’s investigation into her brother’s death,” Ryder said. “She told me over the phone that Neil believed they were murdered and was also interested in another allegedly accidental death that she brought to his attention. But six months ago, he told her over lunch that he didn’t want her coming to the island anymore, that he was concerned about her safety. He didn’t say why.”
“She can’t give us the information over the phone?”
“She told me everything she knew, but I asked if she could come here to go through Neil’s files. I believe some things are missing, and when she told me about the other accidental death he was looking at, I couldn’t find anything about it in his notes—he only has information about the drownings. I believe her input will be valuable.”
“Okay. And Neil’s computer?”
“He used his computer primarily to Skype with his children and send email. I’ve been going through his email, but it’s not archived and it’s taking some time to re-create the messages. The emails auto-delete after two weeks, but I cloned the hard drive and sent it to the Seattle office. They think they can undelete the files.”
“So nothing so far.”
“No, but I have his contact list and have been putting names to the emails.”
“Good. What about Brandon Fielding? Did Zack report back? Seattle?”
“He may have had a grudge against Neil, but the Seattle office confirmed his alibi. Fielding hasn’t left Seattle since being released from prison. He is bitter, according to the interviewing agent, but doesn’t have the means or ability to hire someone to do the job for him. Zack says there’s nothing in his finances that said he could afford it, and he’s dug down. Assistant Director Greer’s staff has ruled out many of Neil’s previous cases—either the felons are still in prison or were cleared. He has only a few more to review.”
They were back at the beginning. Island Protectors had dropped down the suspect list—not off it, because Matt didn’t know what was going on—but the second explosion made no sense in the grand scheme of things, especially if someone from IP was involved. It could be an individual, unaffiliated with the group, who might have a personal grudge against West End, but so far, no one fit that bill.
Matt said, “Michael, follow up with ATF every step of the way. We need to know where the C-4 came from. Right now, that’s our only real lead. Catherine, motive. We’re back at square one. Victim profiles, any like crimes, what are we looking at? And, Ryder—keep digging into Neil’s files and let me know if Ms. Mott says anything that gives us a new direction. Until then, this is what we have.” He motioned to the files in the room, the whiteboard with Catherine’s meticulous script. “The answers are here. We just have to find them.”
21
After talking to the FBI detective, Ashley walked slowly to her dad’s pub feeling out of sorts, almost guilty—except she had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn’t hurt anyone. The idea made her sick. She had hardly been able to sleep since last Friday. Every time she fell into a deep sleep, she relived in slow motion Neil’s body flying up, out of the boat. She couldn’t stop the image and she desperately wanted to.
She opened the door of the Fish & Brew. Uncle Damon was chatting with Timmy and Sam, two old veterans who were here almost every afternoon. Sam was missing a leg from the Vietnam War, a war that seemed so far removed from Ashley that she barely remembered learning about it in American History last year. But now, looking at Sam’s right pant leg knotted just below his knee, she could picture exactly how it had happened.
Her stomach churned.
“Good afternoon to you, Ash,” Uncle Damon said with a smile.
“Hey,” she mumbled.
“You okay?”
“Long day at school,” she said as she passed by and walked down the hall to the kitchen to get some water. She needed something to settle her stomach. But the smell of fish and hamburgers had her stopping outside the swinging doors. She put her back against the wall and closed her eyes, willing herself to stop thinking about the bombing.
It didn’t work.
Something Valerie said last night came back to her.
“It’s karma, Ashley. What goes around comes around.”
“How can you say that?” she had said, tears burning in her eyes. “Peopledied.”
“I’m not saying it’s good, but West End has been fucking the environment for years and Mother Nature doesn’t like that shit.”
“No. That’s not how it works,” Ashley said, defiant. “God doesn’t work that way.”
“God.” She snorted. “Right.”
“Knock it off, Val,” Bobby said. Ashley was used to being ridiculed for going to church and wanting to do missionary work, and she appreciated Bobby standing up for her.
“You knew Kyle,” Ashley said. “He was a great guy.”
Val shrugged. “But he worked for those people. And you know, it could have been an accident, something that West End screwed up and they’re the ones who got those people killed.”
