Page 11 of Delusional

I figured I’d make Walter’s large office, with his desk and bookshelves full of manuals and intelligence bulletins, my first destination, to say hello and get a feel for what was going on. I barely looked up as I made my way over, but as I approached the door, I realized he had a visitor.

Then the visitor turned and smiled. “Wow, I wish I had NYPD hours,” she said.

I was so shocked I didn’t speak for a moment. I looked at Walter, who didn’t understand my confusion. Finally, I managed to say, “Hey, Maggie. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I told you yesterday I was going to work on the case with you. What did you expect?” Maggie Chin let a grin spread across her face. “Oh, you’re used to working with the FBI. I’m an ATF agent. We work when cops work. Or, in your case, a little before when cops work.”

That got a hearty laugh from Walter Jackson.

Maggie didn’t wait for my reply. “I gave Walter everything we had on the break-in at the arsenal. I also gave him a summary of the failed bombing at the bank in Newark over the summer. His grasp of the case and what we need is really quite impressive. I hope you guys appreciate his contributions.”

I bristled a little. “Trust me, we have appreciated Walter for many years. If you want to help on this case, you can come with me while I keep looking for the ex-boyfriend of the victim in yesterday’s bombing.”

Maggie shook her head. “That’s not logical. If Abby Boyd’s ex planted the bomb as some sort of revenge plot, how come we can connect the bombing to the burglary at Picatinny Arsenal? You’re the one who pointed out that a large pry bar was used on both locks in exactly the same way. I think it’s more likely the events are connected and the boyfriend’s not involved. I think looking into that is a better use of our time than chasing down a suspect who, in all likelihood, doesn’t even have any idea how to make a bomb.”

“I don’t deny that logic. But it doesn’t change the fact that we have to at least talk to Abby’s ex-boyfriend, and I’d rather get that out of the way up front.”

Maggie said, “Now that you’ve explained it so clearly, I’d be happy to come with you. What’s the ex’s name?”

“Jimmy Pinter.”

“Doesn’t seem like the bomber type.”

“And you don’t seem like a federal agent type. You’re in the office early, you’re agreeing to go out and do police work with me, and you’re using logic.”

Maggie smiled and said, “I get a kick out of local cops making federal agent jokes. It’s cute.”

I could tell that Maggie was going to be a handful to work with.

CHAPTER 13

ROB TRILLING SHOULD’VE been excited to be back in Montana. He hadn’t been home in years.

But his sense of duty made him regret leaving Michael Bennett on his own in New York. Not that Rob thought he contributed that much to investigations. He was still learning every day. But he knew enough to watch Bennett’s back. He’d also learned to trust his partner’s judgment. The guy lived by a certain set of rules and Rob couldn’t disagree with any of them, or with how Bennett’s life had turned out. As far as Rob was concerned, Bennett literally had the perfect family, the perfect wife, and the respect of virtually every cop in New York.

Rob was especially impressed by Bennett’s oldest daughter, Juliana. He could barely believe that she seemed interested in him too.

The flight out from New York and the layover in Minneapolis had been relatively easy. It turned out his insomnia came in handy on long trips.

Rob carried his backpack through the Bozeman airport, marveling at the idea that he used to think of this place as gigantic. After living in New York City for the last couple of years, he had a better understanding of why New Yorkers tended to consider most things outside of their city small. At least that’s the way it seemed to him.

He spotted his brother, Gary, and his grandfather, Chet, waiting for him by the main exit. The old man still looked spry, wearing khakis and a padded jacket to buffer him from the cold. But Rob did a double take as he approached Gary and saw that his brother had a black eye.

After he’d hugged his grandfather, Rob turned to his brother and said, “What happened?”

Gary mumbled, “I’ll tell you later.”

His furtive tone and manner told Rob it was something Gary didn’t want Pops worrying about. Rob understood. They all protected the elderly man, like he’d protected them for their entire lives.

As soon as they reached the sidewalk, a high-roof van with the logo from the family car lot splashed across the side rolled up and stopped. Rob slipped into an added back row of seats with his brother. He didn’t mention it, but there was an odd smell in the van. He restrained himself from looking around, so it wouldn’t be obvious. No one else seemed to be bothered by the odor.

The driver, an older woman, turned around and smiled at him. “I figured you were the smart brother for getting out of here,” she said. “But I didn’t realize you were the good-looking brother too.”

Rob’s grandfather laughed out loud at that, then said, “Wish you would’ve been my bookkeeper when I ran the car lot.”

Gary said, “Rob, this is Lillian Mathis. She’s been working at the car lot since you left for the Army.”

Lillian said, “Someone’s got to make up for Gary’s fear of math and bookkeeping. Besides, this good-looking guy also stops by once in a while.” She reached over and playfully grabbed Chet’s forearm.