Page 70 of On Fire

Chapter Twenty

Nic Silvano

After locking the car, I walk into the police station behind the rest of the Colton crowd, feeling slightly self-conscious. When I enter the building, tucked under the lighthouse museum, nearly every officer there stops what they’re doing and stands and starts clapping. This leaves me even more self-conscious.

This is what is done when an officer returns from medical leave and back to active duty. I smile and try to get them to stop, but they keep clapping. Carlson steps out of his office and waves us in.

Jackson, already here in a light beige sports jacket over a purple T-shirt and black jeans, looking fit and relaxed, is reading a folder. Photos are fanned in front of him on a table.

“You’re back on duty early,” I say.

“Ah, no. I think I could say the same about you.”

Carlson comes over and shakes my hand. “Glad to see you’re here.”

Carlson and I have a lot in common when it comes to talking. There’s not a lot of it.

Finn flips the light switch on when he enters and I ease myself into a chair.

“The FBI and ATF have their own profile of Graham which I won’t bore you with—you are all welcome to read it. And I know Nic gave his statement, but Nic, I want you to think if there’s anything you’d like to add.”

Finn’s composure is professional. I know he doesn’t want me to relive that day, but we need to stop a bomber.

“Jim Graham is quiet. He hardly spoke to me. This means he feels he has nothing to prove in the moment, which makes him a planner. I was pretty much out of it, but my impression of him is that he is not a flexible thinker. He’s all about step A and then moving to step B. Was there ever a remote sensor found on the bomb at the quarry?”

Carlson shakes his head. “He initiated the bomb remotely, got the timer going, but we think he couldn’t figure out how to do that and a trigger. He was relying on you being found and the trip wires.”

I glance around the room. “Why did it blow then?”

Carlson looks at Bryce.

“There was a short timer on it. It was set to go at that time. Either we trip it, you step off the box and trip it, or it goes up on its own. We just got there in time.”

I can’t think about this.

Mateus speaks up. “Those trip wires have me worried. That’s a more sophisticated design. He’s getting bolder.”

I cup my chin in my hand for a moment before reaching for a photo on the table. It’s of the Blue Wave. “This is the end result he wants. It’s more about the chaos and the message of anti-gay than killing people. It’s the power he gets by destruction. It’s not personal.”

Finn states the obvious. “Your attack was personal. So was Henry Holt’s murder.”

“But?” I gently prod. I’ve had three days to do nothing but mull the case over.

Finn’s gaze moves from me to the table as he starts to understand my conclusion. “But for different reasons.”

“Exactly. I think Henry must have seen something, maybe saw Graham at the bar and recognized him from something. Graham wasn’t in Boston that night, but he had to have set the bomb a day or two ahead of time.”

Carlson asks the next obvious question. “Would Mr. Holt be the type to blackmail someone?”

“I will never say never when it comes to motive, but I would give you terrible odds that happened. Henry wasn’t a criminal.”

“But you,” Finn says. “Why come after you? You were specifically targeted.”

“Jealousy?” suggests Jackson.

“You said you knew Henry,” Bryce says. “I assume that means intimately.”

Mateus nods. “Makes sense.”