Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) (27 page)

“No. The one foster brother I liked turned to drugs and crime and ended up in prison, and I never bonded with the parents. They were only in it for the money.” Rockman shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Why do you think your company was targeted by the firebomber?”

Now he looked irritated. “Some people think plastic water bottles are evil because they end up in landfills. But so do
disposable diapers and old couches and everything else we throw away.”

“I think the idea is that disposable water bottles are unnecessary.” Sophie realized that was too strong a statement and backtracked. “I mean, in most situations, tap water is available and people can refill the same drinking container.”

Rockman looked at the clock on the wall. “I have an online conference in a few minutes.”

Disappointed, Sophie slipped in one more question. “I’ve heard that David Emerson is going to run in the primary. Are you worried about him as a challenger?”

“Not at all.”

Sophie stood and realized she really needed to pee. She had several other stops to make before she drove back to the newspaper, so she asked, “Do you have a restroom I can use?”

“Sure. It’s through this door and to the right.”

The hallway opened into a kitchen on one side, but Sophie resisted the urge to look around. She used the restroom, stepped back into Rockman’s office, and closed the door to the hall. Across the office, the door to the lobby opened, and the receptionist came through. “Mr. Rockman, someone is here to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

Rockman, who stood near his desk, said, “Not right now. I have a conference in a moment.”

A young man with a mohawk haircut rushed up behind the receptionist and shoved her forward.

CHAPTER 26

Friday, March 15, 9:20 a.m.

Dallas started her car and ran the heater for a while to keep warm. She’d woken at sunrise, stiff and thirsty, and had made a quick trip to a nearby Dutch Brothers for coffee and a restroom break. She hated leaving her post in front of Russell Crowder’s house, but she was human and his car hadn’t moved all night. By now, she was ready for him to do something. As much as she loved undercover work, she wasn’t that fond of surveillance. Her gadgets could only keep her entertained for so long, then she had to move. Maybe she could risk a quick walk. She shoved her tablet under the car seat and grabbed the door handle, feeling disappointed that River hadn’t given her any information about Russell. Was he using an alias? Or was just too young to be in the system? Were her instincts wrong?

The rumble of an engine caught her attention, and she looked back at the target’s driveway. Behind the wheel of the Subaru,
Russell headed out. Glad her own car was already running, Dallas waited thirty seconds, then pulled out. She forced herself to hang back. The worst of the morning traffic had already found its way to work and she was more worried about being spotted than losing him. She popped in her earpiece and called River on her work phone. Her supervisor didn’t pick up, so Dallas left a message: “I’m following Crowder and he’s headed downtown. Do we know anything about him yet?”

Dallas tried to keep only one car between her and Russell, but as they neared Willamette, a car cut in front of her. Dallas resisted the urge to honk, but she was boxed in and couldn’t see the Subaru.

The minivan made a sudden left turn and jetted out of her way as quickly as it had interfered. Ahead two blocks, Russell’s Subaru moved into the right lane. Dallas waited for a count of five, then eased over too. Russell turned on the next cross street just as she had to stop for a light.
Damn!
She practically bounced in the seat waiting for the light to change. When it did, she hit the gas, then had to slam the brake for an idiot on a bike who crossed in front of her. What the hell was he thinking?

She raced up to Mill Street and careered around the corner. The street was empty except for a car in the distance, at least six blocks away. Where was Russell’s car? Pulse racing, Dallas forced herself to slow down. She had to check parking lots, driveways and alleys, because he must have turned off. But what if he’d turned on to another street and was moving quickly away?

Dallas scanned in both directions, then crossed Fourteenth Avenue and didn’t see him.
Damn!
Picking up speed again, she passed large old houses but didn’t see the green car. Reluctantly, she crossed Fifteenth, then moments later spotted Russell in a small parking lot. Dallas passed by, noting the sign out front: R&L
Enterprises. As soon as she was out of his line of sight, she pulled to the curb, climbed from her car, and called River.

Her boss answered this time. “Hey, Dallas. Sorry I missed your earlier call. I was in a task force meeting. What’s the update?”

“Russell Crowder just pulled into R and L Enterprises. Can you get me something on that business?”

She heard River draw in a sharp breath. “That’s Ted Rockman’s office. He owns the bottled water plant.”

“Holy shit. What is Crowder up to?” Russell was going through the front door, wearing a bulky jacket. “He’s going in. I think I’d better too.” Dallas started to run. She passed two large houses, most likely occupied by students, then came to the R&L business.

“This could be a confrontation,” River warned. “Fouts and I are on our way. Let me know if we need more backup.”

Dallas scrambled for how to play this. If Russell saw her, he’d know she had followed him. Could she bullshit her way through this and keep her cover? She ran up the sidewalk and tried to push through the door. It was locked. What the hell? Had Russell locked it behind him?

Her pulse escalated and she struggled to think straight. If Russell had locked the door, his intentions weren’t likely peaceful. There had to be another entrance. Dallas redialed River as she ran around the building and through the side parking lot. “Crowder’s inside and he’s locked the door behind him. I’m looking for another entrance.” She saw the back door with the State Senator Rockman political sign. “I’m going in the back, but I’ll leave us connected.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed the doorknob, and pushed inside.

A young woman was taking off her jacket and preparing to sit down at the desk. She looked startled to see Dallas. “Can I help you?”

Dallas pointed at the other door in the small, spare office. “Does that connect to the front?”

“Yes, but it leads to a private space.” The woman shook her head, looking alarmed. “You can’t go through there.”

“I’m FBI. Please leave the building.”

Dallas didn’t wait to see if the woman complied. She had to get to Rockman as soon as Russell did. Should she pull her weapon? Or was it premature? Dallas had no idea why Russell was here. Maybe it was just a meeting, and if she blew her cover, they might never catch Russell, or any of the others, in the act. She decided to get her Kel-Tec out of its compartment and have it ready. Dallas dug to the bottom of her bag and grabbed the zipper. It didn’t budge.
Shit.
The fabric was caught. She tugged but only made it worse. Instinct made her keep moving. Her pepper spray and knife were handy, and she would slice open the damn purse to reach the gun if the situation called for it.

On the other side of the door was a galley kitchen, and she raced through it with only a glance. The end opened into a short hallway with two doors. The first one she tried was a bathroom. Dallas stopped, took a deep breath, and tried to figure out how to keep her cover if Russell turned out to be Rockman’s nephew or something. Her cover was a grant writer, so she’d come up with something. Dallas grabbed the handle of the second door and twisted. It opened, but a force pushed back.

Russell shouted, “Let go of the door and get out of the building.”

Dallas slammed her shoulder into the door, knocking it open a few more inches, then slipped through. Russell grabbed her upper arm and shoved her into a wall, then quickly locked the door. The blow stunned her for a moment, but she glanced around the room. In a quick second, she took it all in. The large office had a corner desk, several guest chairs, and draped windows on the wall facing the street. Two people sat on the floor
against an empty wall, a middle-aged man with jet-black hair and an older woman with short silver hair. She recognized Rockman from photos, but not the woman. Why were they on the floor? Dallas snapped her head toward Russell.

His bulky jacket had come off, and he wore a vest with a bomb taped to it.
Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

In her pocket, River’s voice squeaked, “Dallas? What’s going on?”

“Give me your cell phone!” Russell screamed and held out his hand.

Dallas hung up her call and handed him the phone. “What are you doing, Russell? I don’t understand.” She would keep her cover as long as she could. If Russell realized she was an FBI agent, he might try to kill her. Could she get to her gun without jeopardizing all of them? Dallas scanned him up and down. He had a knife in one hand, but no other weapon she could see. Except the bomb.

Russell tossed her phone on the desk next to the others, then grabbed her purse and threw it down too.
Shit!
Dallas was glad for the knife in her pocket, but had no idea what she could do against a man with an explosive device.

Russell pointed at Rockman. “I’m trying to get this scumbag to admit to what he really is.” He turned back to Dallas with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here, Fiona? Did you follow me?”

“No. I came to see Mr. Rockman about writing a grant for him. He wants to refit his factory to be more environmentally responsible.” The lie might not save her or Rockman, but it might mitigate Russell’s anger.

The bomber turned to Rockman. “Since when do you care about the environment?”

Rockman did his part and didn’t look at Dallas. “I have always cared, Russell. You think I don’t remember you, but I do. You were one of my Boy Scouts.”

“And one of your victims.” Russell gestured at Dallas to go sit next to the others. She had no choice but to comply. Trying to take Russell down could get them all killed.

Rockman looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“No more bullshit!” Russell touched his vest. “We’ll deal with that in a minute, but first you have to call your factory and send everyone home.” The terrorist took a cell phone from his pants pocket. “Give me the number of your foreman and I’ll dial. Then you get on the line and tell him to close down.”

Rockman closed his eyes in distress.

“Don’t even think about resisting,” Russell threatened. “We’re just getting started.”

CHAPTER 27

River charged down the hall to Fouts’ office and stuck her head in. “We’ve got a situation.”

Fouts was on his feet and moving without asking questions. As they jogged to the elevator, River updated him.

“Did you alert EPD?”

“Yes, patrol units are on the way, but they’re on standby mode. I’m worried that we have a hostage situation.”

“Damn. That’s a little crazy even for an environmentalist.”

“And our crisis negotiator is speaking at a conference in Atlanta.” They stepped into the elevator and rode it down to the lobby. “We need intel on Crowder,” River said. “I’ll call the juvie judge again and press for access to his record.”

“If he has one.”

“You know he does.”

“Yeah.” Fouts pulled on his coat. “Did you call Quince?”

“Not yet. But I will.”

The elevator doors opened and they ran for their cars.

After River mentioned “potential hostage situation,” the assistant put her on hold while she tracked down Judge Kramer. As River turned left on Mill and spotted a patrol car ahead, the assistant came back on the line. “The judge signed your subpoena and I’ll fax over the documents in a minute.”

“I need a digital file. I’m on my way to a crisis scene and need immediate access to information that I can use to negotiate with the hostage taker.”

“I’ll have to ask. We don’t usually send files that can be printed or shared.”

“I’m a federal officer; just the send the file, please.” River clicked off.

The patrol car parked sideways in the middle of the street, and the officer began putting out orange cones to stop traffic.
Someone must have called 911
, River thought. Not seeing any parking spaces, River pulled up behind the police unit and shut off her car. A pang of anxiety tugged at her chest. What if this was a false alarm and Crowder was simply talking to Rockman? The media would be on this situation soon, and she didn’t want both departments to look foolish. She remembered the thumping sound from Dallas’ call, as if she’d been against a wall.
Every decision is correct in that moment
, River reminded herself.