As if that explained it, Trevor opened his door and stepped out of the vehicle. Alina quickly unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out, practically running to catch up with him as he headed for the apartment building.
“You do realize that when he started working at the DCO could easily be a coincidence, right?” she asked as she fell into step beside him. “And as far as quitting right after the bombing, I’m betting a lot of people bailed after that.”
Alina took his silence as confirmation as they entered the building and climbed the stairs.
“Do you have anything else on this guy?” she asked. “Some indication of a payment, a personal beef with Loughlin, a connection with the rogue agents who went on the run?”
Trevor shook his head as he stopped in front of apartment 231. “Nothing like that. But Larson was previously employed by a man John had been trying to apprehend for years.”
“What man?”
“An extremely powerful man who has used other people to do his dirty work for years. As it happens, he’s also the same man who got Seth Larson the job at the DCO.”
That didn’t tell her much. And while Trevor appeared to be searching for the bomber, he didn’t seem to be trying to find any of the rogue agents.
She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but before she got a chance, he reached out and pushed the doorbell. He immediately followed that up with a few knocks that were louder than the bell.
The door was jerked open so fast, Alina automatically reached for the sidearm on her hip but stopped at the last second at the sight of a young guy in jeans and a T-shirt with wire-rimmed glasses and at least three days of stubble on his face, a little blond boy standing behind him.
“I heard the bell,” the man said, clearly pissed off. “You didn’t have to knock, too.”
Trevor frowned and opened his month to say something no doubt abrupt and snark filled, but his words were cut off by a soft, frightened voice.
“Daddy, do you have to go away again?”
Larson glanced over his shoulder at his son. The little boy, who couldn’t have been more than eight, was close to tears.
“No, Cody. Daddy’s not going anywhere. I’m just talking to some old friends.”
Cody moved closer, studying her and Trevor, his blue eyes curious. “Friends?”
Larson looked at them, a pleading expression on his face. “You two are friends, right?”
Alina smiled at Cody. “Yes, we’re friends of your dad. We worked with him a little while ago.”
That seemed to satisfy the little boy, who turned without another word and headed back into the living room. When he was out of earshot, Seth Larson frowned at them.
“I don’t remember seeing either of you from the time I was at the DCO, but I’m guessing that’s where you know me from,” he said.
“Yes,” Trevor said, his tone softer than Alina would have expected. “I’m Trevor Maxwell, and this is my partner, Alina Bosch. We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about the morning the bombing happened.”
Larson threw a quick glance at his son, as if he was afraid Cody might have heard, but Cody was lying on the floor coloring and didn’t even look up. “Sure, I can talk. Just…don’t use that word—bomb. I don’t think Cody knows what it means, and I really don’t want him to. He’s autistic, and sometimes he gets upset easily.”
Alina nodded. Beside her, Trevor did the same.
Larson led them into the small, tidy apartment, past an eat-in kitchen, and into the living room. There was a couch against one wall, with a TV and bookshelves opposite it. A fancy computer sat on the coffee table, some kind of accounting spreadsheet showing on the screen, but Alina barely took notice of any of it. Cody was far more fascinating.
Spread out on the floor around him must have been nearly a hundred completed pictures torn out of coloring books. Every one of them was absolutely amazing. While the colors were unusual—trees in blues and purples, people in every shade of the rainbow, skies in yellow with orange clouds—there wasn’t a single crayon mark out of place or outside the lines. In a word, they were breathtaking.
Seemingly oblivious to them, Cody finished the picture he was working on, then carefully pulled it out of the book and set it aside before starting the next one.
Larson motioned them toward the couch. “You two want a soda…or water? Sorry, but that’s all I have in the house.”
Alina shook her head as she sat. “No, I’m good.”
Trevor declined the offer as well, moving carefully around the pictures on the floor as he grabbed a place beside her on the couch and pulled out a pen and spiral notepad from a cargo pocket. Larson sat down on the floor with Cody, making sure to move his son’s artwork aside first.
“To be honest, I’m kind of surprised no one stopped by before this,” he said.
