I had worked a case with Shooter where we’d found a device like this. If it was wired properly, a set of AA batteries or a fuse could spark a tiny shell filled with magnesium or glitter or pepper spray, causing a small burst of light that someone on watch would notice. Even if Hemmings had fallen asleep and didn’t notice, he would see the evidence in the morning when he woke up and walked outside. That’s why he’d set the trap. To make sure he wasn’t being followed.
I headed back to the van, messaging Frank while I did.
Is there a smell? Any powder on the ground.
My phone buzzed.
Yes and yes. Metallic smell. White powder. I also see a battery now. Something tied to the bumper of the U-Haul.
“Damn it,” I said to myself.
Stay put. We have to reattach that line or we’re dead in the water come morning.
I shook my head, surprised I’d not stopped Frank from crossing the street. There could be security lights on the house or other defensive measures. By trying to see if Cassie’s tracking device had been spotted, we’d put the mission in jeopardy. Now Hemmings would see a broken wire and call off the drive to D.C.
I got back to the van and had Cassie get on the road, telling her I’d explain what happened as we drove.
“How much time do you think we have?” she asked after I’d gone through the details.
“If he gets up at four?” I said. “Forty-five minutes to an hour.”
She drove through the dark, only switching on her headlights when we got near the interstate. In the meantime, I’d googled home improvement places and twenty-four-hour stores but had found only one open in the area.
Cassie pulled into an all-night Dollar General, and we split up.
“Look for anything with electrical wire in it,” I said.
Inside, Cassie brought me a pair of jumper cables and an extension cord. I shook my head. “For this setup, we need a thin strand of copper. Hobby gauge.”
Cassie bit at her lip, her eyes big. “At this hour?”
I walked over to the counter with some AA batteries. “Do you sell gunpowder?”
The woman laughed. “Are you kidding me?”
“How about magnesium?” I asked. “Or magnesium citrate?”
She pointed. “There’s a health area over there.”
I found the powder and paid for that and the batteries. Then we got back in the van, knowing Frank was still crouched by the back of the U-Haul, waiting. The sun would start coming up soon.
“Find a bar,” I said.
“What?”
“Just drive,” I raised my voice.
I pointed at a light down a dirt road, and Cassie headed in that direction. “Is there a plan?” she asked.
“Yes.”
A mile down, we pulled up outside a small country bar, and I hopped out. Pushed open the front door to the place.
“We’re closed,” a voice from the back hollered.
I waited until a face emerged. A man in his late sixties wearing a gray T-shirt and jeans.
“Law enforcement,” I said, holding out my badge.
