Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“The kid got out of the car and far enough away that just some shrapnel hit him,” Mitch said, taking in everything Kreed told him.
“It’s designed to send pieces flying. It would be near impossible to identify who was inside once it blew.” Kreed got to his feet and Mitch stood with him. They both just stared at the car.
“What went wrong? If it was designed to kill him, then the detonation didn’t respond on time… Or they thought he was already dead? Sometimes I’ve wondered if they were allowed to live on purpose to tell the story. But he was beaten badly. There’s no reason he’s alive right now,” Mitch spoke, thinking over the scenarios as he went.
“The guy who did this would wanna stick around, see the explosion,” Kreed replied.
“But the kid was too high profile. They’d know we’d be looking,” Connors spoke from behind him. Mitch hadn’t even heard him walk up and had no idea how much he’d heard.
“Then maybe it’s an inside job. Maybe this is agency-related,” Kreed added, ignoring Connors altogether and staring at Mitch. Through all the discussion they’d had on this case, never once had Mitch truly accepted this could be a political game, let alone an agency insider gone rogue. As he let the possibility resonate, Connors jumped in.
“Not even on the radar. You better have all your ducks in a row before you start pointing your fingers at one of them.” Mitch listened and knew Kreed too well. He didn’t play well between the divisions, something they had in common. Instead of firing off a smart-ass remark like he knew his friend wanted to do, Kreed stuck his greasy, dirty hand out to Connors, introducing himself. Lost in thought, Connors took the bait and shook Kreed’s hand, almost immediately realizing his mistake.
“Kreed Sinacola, nice to meet you,” his buddy finally let go of Connors’s hand. All Connors could do was stand there looking down at his oil- and soot-stained hand.
“Really?” Connors asked, still looking at his hand.
“In the justice’s case, he could have lived through his if it hadn’t been a direct hit. This one right here should have killed anyone who was in range. This car was placed in that field for a reason,” Kreed continued, staring back at the car. Connors walked away, looking for something to clean his hand. “I can’t see how it’s not organized, by multiple people. They are too well-trained and diverse. They have international experience. Probably US ex-military. If not military, then some sort of special technical training. These people are pissed off at something. There’s the National United Association. I know for sure ex-military joins that group.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t violent,” Connors chimed in, holding his hand out away from his body. Mitch tried not to laugh at the rumpled, wet, and now soiled agent. This had to be killing him.
“It’s only a matter of time until a splinter-group forms. You got the League of Freedom, New Resistance Party, Keywest United, every one of them draws ex-military, and they’re packed with resigned law enforcement. I also can’t see how you can discount an agency insider.” Kreed had apparently been here awhile, his mind already going ninety to nothing.
“At this point, we can’t discount anything,” Mitch said before Connors could speak.
“I’m gonna write this up in an official report. I’ll get Ellen to send it to you within the next few hours. What’s your plan of attack?” Kreed asked, his focus back on Mitch.
“Maybe someone saw something. They had to drive through town to get out to that field,” Mitch reasoned. “The car was stolen from the owner of the field it blew in. He reported the car stolen about thirty minutes before he heard the explosion on the other side of his property. That was around midnight, right?” Mitch asked Connors.
“Correct. Local police have put together a list of possible people of interest,” Connors answered.
“Aaron Stuart’s pulled together a more targeted organized hate groups list for me. I got it late Friday night. He’s pulled all the registered members who were military-related and government-related. He stayed with groups that had memberships of under a hundred people. My gut says it’s four or five people max, probably off the radar. It’s planned, executed, and never mentioned again, but someone has to be leading the pack. They don’t want fame from this. They’re doing this for a different reason. We can interview, but they aren’t here anymore. I guarantee it,” Mitch said as they left the stall.
“For the first time, I agree with you, Knox, but I don’t like Aaron Stuart being involved. You need to discuss these things with me. He’s under investigation…” Connors started again, but Kreed cut him off.
“I bet he never played team sports as a child,” Kreed hooked a thumb in Connors’s direction as they headed toward the restrooms on the side of the building.
“My thoughts exactly,” Mitch gave Kreed a knuckle-bump as they kept in perfect stride.
“You know, Knox? I’ve had enough of all the disrespect. I’m a graduate of Harvard Law. I’m in charge of this case. I’ll have someone on my team narrow this down. Stuart’s out. Period. End of discussion. I’m not comfortable with him,” Connors called out from a couple of steps behind them. Mitch glanced back at him as he opened the door to the bathroom. Connors still held his hand awkwardly in front of his body to keep the grime from touching anything else.
“What’s his problem with Stuart?” Kreed inclined his head toward the FBI agent.
“Who could really know? You know how the feds are. All I know is what Stuart’s told me. He was apparently involved in some questionable activity in college. He broke into the FBI security system as a fraternity prank. Since then, they watch him, but they fucking hired his ass to find their breaches. So it’s like give him a job, but never forgive him for what he’s done.” Mitch let the door shut as Connors approached.
“So he’s that badass then?” Kreed asked, washing his hands.