Free Shockwave (Calendar Men: Mr. May) by D.L. Jackson Page A

shouldn’t be able to. But the bigger question is how they got your number—knew I was with you. I’ll see if they can track the call back to a name, but I doubt well find anything. The bomber seems too smart to hand information to us.” He glanced at the hole again. “State police shut off cell service and the power as a precaution—in case there are any other bombs.”
    “I don’t think there are. She called the blast a warning.”
    “A warning—hunh. It’s a hell of a way to make your point.”
    “Sergeant North,” the fire chief called out, motioning for Tanner to come over to a nearby truck. “Building’s clear. We have some minor injuries, nothing major.”
    “Go inside and hang out in the office. Until we know who the bomber is, you’ll be placed in protective custody. She’s around here somewhere, I’m certain. And if she could blow up your car in a public place, she’s crazy enough to do anything to get rid of you, including killing innocents who get in the way. We’re going to need to go down to the station and give them a statement later. Could be a while before I’m done here.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s not my jurisdiction, but I am ordnance and my expertise can help until the state bomb squad arrives.
    “While I’m out here, I want you to make a list of any women who might have your phone number—friends, family. Anyone. We’ll start there. Been my experience we won’t find anything, but on the off chance, I want to rule out the obvious first.” He nodded toward the entrance. “Go.”

 
     
     
Chapter Six
     
     
    Five hours later, Lannie sat at a desk in the hotel office and listed her grandmother, Peggy, friends from the past whom she didn’t see anymore since she didn’t hang out in war zones, and anyone who might have her number. She wracked her brain, feeling as though she’d missed something. She lifted her chin and watched Tanner talking to several State Police officers who wore ballistics gear. Among them, a familiar face, Catherine Dawson, Tanner’s ex.
    Her scalp tingled and her reporter’s sixth sense went on alert. She looked down at her list. No way . The woman was an FBI agent, and it wouldn’t be a coincidence to see her at a bombing anywhere in New York State, especially Upstate, since she worked out of a field office nearby.
    Still, the voice on the phone had seemed familiar. She bit her lip, pressed the pen to the page, and stopped. The woman investigated bombings. Stupid to include her, but she did have the knowledge—the connection to Tanner—her number from when she’d interviewed her for the article. And she might have a motive. While interviewing her, Lannie sensed deep-rooted anger over the breakup, and maybe a touch of sadness. Catherine hadn’t quite accepted they were over.
    Lannie scrawled her name down on the pad and returned her attention to the window. They’d taped off the area, and CSI combed the scene with the help of ordnance experts. EOD didn’t just defuse bombs, they investigated threats and explosions, even those not intentional, like propane tanks and gas leaks. No doubt this one had been intentional, and the smallest fragment could break the case wide open—or sink it like the Titanic if mishandled. The investigation would take a bit longer, so she had a few more hours before Tanner came for her.
    She watched Catherine cross the parking lot to a black sedan. She opened the door, grabbed something, and then returned to where a group of officers huddled together. The agent touched Tanner’s back, leaning in to say something in his ear. Lannie’s stomach twisted into knots.
    He nodded and Catherine turned to look at the office. She stared for several seconds before Tanner said something, catching her attention. He pointed to where her Camero had blown, and together they crossed the blacktop to ground zero.
    She needed to get into Agent Dawson’s car to see if anything inside could link her to the bombing. Since she was a