Laurel seriously doubted that statement. She looked up, expecting fury on Walter’s face. Instead, his eyes glimmered and a smile flashed for a second. He caught her gaze and sobered instantly. “What bar did she find you at?”
Foster picked mud off his chin. “I don’t know the name. Neon owl sign. Cheap beer. She walked up while I was smoking.”
“Did she tell you what might be in the envelope?” Walter asked, tone low and flat.
“Nope. She said it might show up and that I should watch for two weeks. Just look for the name of Tyler Griggs, or one without a return address. Or anything handwritten. But you didn’t get anything like that. You get all junk and bills, man.”
Walter snorted.
Laurel paused, looking up at him. He was amused?
He sobered again. “You didn’t ask the woman any questions?”
Foster shifted his weight and winced. “She was offering five hundred bucks to grab a letter. Or destroy it if I couldn’t. She paid half up front.”
Walter took a step back, crossed his arms, then gave the faintest, briefest smile.
Laurel blinked. Noted it. Continued. “All right, Tom. Here’s the deal. If you help us, we’ll help you. Right now you’re looking at a felony.”
Foster groaned. “Dude. I was drunk. Didn’t see her car, didn’t even see her arrive or leave. I want to help. I do.”
Walter glowered. “You’re a moron.”
There was the Walter Laurel adored. What in the world was going on with him?
“Ha,” Foster said. “A moron wouldn’t have brought firecrackers just in case he got caught, now would he? My job was to steal the info, and I would’ve, but you saw me. So I destroyed it.”
The manwasa moron.
Walter glowered. “You could’ve killed somebody.”
Laurel shook her head. “So just to make sure I have this correctly. You carried out a potentially lethal act for an unnamed woman, on behalf of an anonymous sender, targeting a letter you weren’t sure existed?”
Foster looked up at the ceiling and groaned. Loudly. “I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds like conspiracy, tampering with federal property, and destruction of evidence,” she said. “Among other probable crimes.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said, quieter now.
What had been in that box? Laurel glanced at the one remaining piece.They’ll kill everyone, I’m afraid. It made sense that Tyler had sent his half brother, the FBI agent, information in case of his death. Why hadn’t Laurel thought of that? Was her head still on vacation? Or did the sniper have her more concerned than she believed? At least Walter and Ena had tried to collect all of the pieces before the rain ruined them, and right now evidence techs were out at the scene. She wasn’t holding out hope for anything substantial, though.
She pushed a notepad toward Foster. “You’re going to write everything down. Physical description. Location. Exact time. Verbatim conversation if you can manage it.”
Foster nodded and cast a glance over at Walter. “Hey. I’m not sure what happened between you and the tough-looking, dark-haired chick after you tackled me, but I feel like you asked an important question.”
Walter glared at him.
Foster’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “That was in Chinese, right?”
“Japanese,” Walter corrected.
“Same thing,” Foster said.
Walter pushed away from the doorframe. “Not even close.”
Foster glanced back at Laurel, picking up the pen. “Whatever he asked her—I’m pretty sure she said yes.”
Laurel finished reading through all of the autopsy reports, part of her mind wondering what Walter had asked Ena, and the other part on the glass boards behind her. Nagging at her. Whispering at her to turn around and find the missing piece. Walter had taken Foster to the local jail for processing and to await bond since the FBI had an agreement with the local police. The U.S. Marshals would take over from there.
