“Yeah, but he controls it,” Millie retorted.
“True enough,” Buckle noted. Someone knocked on the door, and she turned to accept a stack of papers.
“What do you have?” Millie asked.
Buckle quickly read through the stack. “The video from your home captured the scene clearly, Agent Frost. The Molotov cocktails were thrown from a 1973 Ford F-100 pickup.” She squinted. “There’s dirt and I would have to say some very heavy window tint.” She moved over to the computer bank to the right and quickly typed in several commands. The video came up. Millie had already viewed it briefly at her still-burning home, but Tate had quickly confiscated it.
Millie caught her breath and moved closer. The screen easily topped the one in her workshop. She watched as the driver passed by several times, then pulled into the driveway, rolled down the window, and threw the projectiles right through her front window.
“I need to invent a better glass,” she muttered. “I don’t like the current bulletproof because it’s so thick. I bet I could do better.” She needed to get on that as soon as possible.
“Do you recognize the thrower?” Buckle asked tersely.
Millie leaned closer to the screen. Dressed from head to toe in black, the attacker wore gloves, a hat, and a hockey mask. The bomber looked more like the guy from thoseFriday the 13thmovies than anybody she’d ever recognize. The size of the person remained indiscernible, and the interior of the vehicle remained in shadow.
“I can’t tell,” she said. “The person had a good arm.”
“That could be anybody,” Buckle muttered, squinting. “They did a decent job of staying out of sight. It’s shocking, really.”
Millie didn’t have much to go on. “All we know is this person can drive a truck and throw with pretty decent accuracy.”
“I could do the same,” Buckle said glibly.
“Yeah? You play softball?”
Buckle’s lips turned down. “I have for years. I’m on a coed team. This coming spring, I think we’re going to take it. We only got second last year.”
“Sorry about that,” Millie said, staring at the truck. Several dents and scratches marred the paint along with a smattering of rust along the side, which matched the old and worn tires. Buckle stopped the video, and they both looked at the spot where the license plate should be. It had obviously been removed.
“You don’t recognize the truck?” Buckle asked.
“No, I’ve never seen it before.” Millie looked closer. “I mean, it’s old and obviously well worn. Chances are the arsonist stole it before heading to my house.”
Buckle sighed.
Millie gave up on the truck and looked back at the interview. “I highly doubt that jackass drove an old truck or could even throw a Molotov cocktail.”
“Agreed,” Buckle murmured. “We don’t have enough probable cause to obtain a warrant for his financials—there’s no doubt he’d hire something like that out.” She looked at Millie. “Since HDD has an investigation ongoing against him, surely they have his records?”
“It’s my understanding that the techs are going through them now,” Millie said. “I don’t know that anybody at HDD headquarters will give me the information, but I have my sources on the outside.” She needed to check in with Brigid soon.
Buckle refocused on the interview happening in the larger room. “Good. I’ll make a formal request for that information, but my gut instinct is that you’ll be able to get it sooner from your people than we will.”
Millie liked that Buckle didn’t ask about the source because she wouldn’t have told her about Brigid anyway. Not that Buckle probably didn’t have her own sources.
In the other room, Dearth pushed away from the table. “I’m bored with this. I have no clue where Julie is and couldn’t care less.” He rolled his eyes and then he winked. “Millicent Frost, if you’re in there, know this is just the beginning. I’m truly looking forward to getting to know you better.” With that, he smirked at Scott and sauntered his arrogant butt out of the room, his stride measured and calculated as if he enjoyed them watching him.
“What a twat,” Buckle muttered.
“Yeah, but is he a dangerous one?” Millie murmured.
Buckle pushed hair out of her eyes. “I think he is, Millie. I don’t know if he hired somebody to attack you, but there’s no question you’re in his sights. You need to take precautions.”
As if he heard them, Scott looked over his shoulder. Even through the window, Millie could feel the punch of anger sizzling in his stark blue eyes.
“I think I’m covered,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Three
