Sure, she’d made some good connections with colleagues. More after she’d moved from patrol to training duties. As a trainer, her fellow officers had viewed her more as a teacher than as a cop. Regardless, she’d absolutely made more enemies in her years of service than pals. It was the nature of the beast.
That brought her to point number two. The supposition that whoever was doing this felt they had a score to settle with her. It was clearly someone who thought they knew her well. At least well enough to make assumptions. She could probably eliminate servicemen and women she’d encountered in more mundane circumstances such as traffic checkpoints or dealing with identification issues. Most of the day-to-day misdemeanors were unlikely as well. Drunk and disorderly conduct arrests we’re a dime a dozen. Plus, the people she’d busted in those cases were usually angrier with whoever had ratted them out than with her.
This was likely somebody she’d encountered under more serious circumstances. She’d made numerous arrests in her career. Many of them significant crimes. Was the person who was doing this the perpetrator of her twelfth arrest? The twelfth overall, or that resulted in a felony conviction? Was the “dozen” part significant, or was she overly fixated on the number twelve?
She pondered all the possibilities, weighing each one carefully. They each had pros and cons, but none felt quite right. Cassidy’s gut told her she was on the right track when it came to major infractions versus minor. But minor transgressions could also become major quickly if they piled up on top of one another.
She was startled from her rumination by the clatter of toenails on metal. A cool, damp muscle inserted itself into her ear.
Max was back. Jake was here.
“Hey now, player,” she said, laughing as she heaved herself into a sitting position again. Looking down at the somber-eyed dog, she smiled. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for those kinds of greetings, Max.”
“He’s not great with boundaries,” Jackson quipped, playing along with her teaching tone. “I keep telling him curiosity is for cats, but he doesn’t believe me.” At the mention of felines, Max tipped his head to the side and eyed his partner skeptically. Jake grimaced. “He’s not the biggest fan of c-a-t-s.”
“Really?” She found herself genuinely curiously intrigued. “I always thought that was a myth.”
“I don’t think he wishes them any ill. He’s simply baffled by their existence.”
“Ah, I see,” Cassidy said, nodding slowly then reaching out to pet the side of the dog’s neck. “I feel the same way about a lot of people.” Tipping her chin up, she eyed Jake warily. “Anyone hurt?”
He shook his head. “A couple of cuts from flying debris, but nothing serious.”
“Jake, I think we need to talk about whether these devices should be disarmed or not.”
Much to her surprise, he nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“You were?”
“But we might be too late,” he conceded. “They’re already ticked we messed with their timeline, and considering they expended two of the devices of their own volition, I have to think we can’t put too much stock in them holding the line with the rest. They’ve proven they’re willing to pivot when they need to.”
“Agreed,” Cassidy said with a sharp bob of her head. “Colonel Aronson came down and spoke with me. He’s going to ask the governor’s office to forward my request for information from Little Rock Air Force Base. The colonel also asked me to remind you report to him and not me.” She arched an eyebrow. “Have you been neglecting your chain of command?”
Jake sucked air in between his teeth, but two spots of color rose in his cheeks. “Yeah, I need to run up there and get his feedback on the timeline situation.”
She fixed him with a patient stare. “You don’t need to keep checking on me, Jake.”
“Says you.”
Cassidy’s heart leaped and then flipped in her chest. What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t dare ask. “I have a really nice probationary firefighter hanging around,” she said with an airy wave. “Go check in. Do what you need to do.”
“I will,” he assured her, but the stubborn tilt of his chin said something entirely different.
“I’m waiting for Bud to bring me a phone. I’ll reach out to the base as well. Try to light a fire under them. But not literally,” she added.
At last, Jake looked directly at her, but when their eyes met, her breath tangled in her throat. The stark fear she spotted in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.
“What is it?”
He shook his head as if he was still trying to wrap his mind around their current circumstances. “Whoever this is isn’t messing around, Cass. The device at the cattle barn packed a wallop. I didn’t stick around in the poultry house long enough to assess whatever was hidden in storage container, but I have a feeling we’re dealing with somebody who knows explosives well.”
“I agree. It’s someone with experience in building and detonating bombs or IEDs. Or an electronics expert who spends too much time on YouTube,” she added dryly.
Jake picked up the thread. “There was a sort of timeline suggested in the beginning, but we know they can detonate them remotely. Because they are surveilling the scene and have the capability to change the game on a whim, it makes locating and disabling devices more of a risk.”
She pondered the possibilities. “I think we’re better off assuming it’s somebody with a military background,” she said. “I know there’s a lot out on the internet these days, but I’m also going with the assumption it’s somebody with real training. Possibly someone I arrested during my time with Security Forces.”
“Sounds plausible.”
