“Officer, Mr. Chang was acting strange when he came in today. He had a backpack on, but I didn't think much of it. Then, as he was leaving, he hugged me and whispered that he was sorry. That they made him do it.”
“Who made him do it?” The cop looked up from his notepad eagerly.
“He didn't say. But then he dropped the backpack, and I heard a whirring sound. He didn't activate that bomb. I think it was remotely activated.”
The officer wrote it all down and looked over at Rune. “Why didn't you mention any of this?”
“I didn't hear any of that,” Rune said. “I only heard him shout, 'Run' at her.”
“You could have mentioned that.”
Rune shrugged. “I thought he intended to take down the building and maybe he had a twinge of conscious over killing Lora.”
The officer grunted. “Still, you should have mentioned it.”
“I heard the whirring,” Elaine said. “And I saw him hug Lora. It was the expression on her face that made me pay attention. And then she yelled at us to run outside, but before we could, Rune grabbed the backpack and tossed it through the door.”
The officer blinked. “Well, damn. It sounds as if we have a murder, not a suicide bomber.”
“Yes, Sir,” Simon said. “I saw all that too. And I heard the guy shout to run.”
“He really was a nice man,” I said. “He collected indigenous art to support native people. He was very wealthy.”
“Wealthy you say?” the cop asked. “Now, this is getting even more complicated. This could have been a hostage situation gone bad.”
“But why target us?” Elaine asked.
“Lora was followed a while back,” Rune said. “Could that be related?”
“You were followed, Ma'am?” The officer looked at me.
“Yes,” I said. “The man called me some nasty names, but he didn't attack me.”
“That's called a verbal altercation, Ma'am. It's a type of attack. Did you report it?”
“No. I didn't think much of it. I've been the target of racists before, officer.”
The man blinked as if he couldn't understand why I'd be targeted. Then it registered, and he made an angry sound. For the most part, Seattle was a very open-minded town. Not as open-minded as Portland, but nearly. It was rather nice to see a policeman surprised that there had been a racially motivated attack in his city. That said something about Seattle. Something positive.
“I'm so sorry to hear that, Ma'am. But we can't help you if you don't report things like that. Please, if there's a next time, report it.”
“I will.”
The man sighed. “Do you remember what the guy looked like? The one who said nasty things to you.”
“He was blond,” I said. “Slender, maybe 170.”
The policeman widened his eyes. “Great. Anything else? Anything at all?”
“Oh, I remember him well. He had dark eyes and was young, early twenties. He had on a . . . damn, I can't remember his shirt.”
“That's all right, Ma'am. The clothing doesn't matter after so long. Not unless it was unique.”
“It wasn't,” I said. “Oh, he had a small nose. I remember thinking it was too small for his face.”
“She's an artist,” Rune said to the man's surprised look.
“Really? Do you think you could sketch him?”
