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out in time.”
    â€œMaybe.” Cash let the idea roll around in his head.
    â€œOr maybe the partner said he only intended to damage the building and the bomb wouldn’t go off until after everyone left for the night. Or he might not have told her about the cell phone and only mentioned a timer. When she realized he could call to detonate the bomb at any time, she knew she couldn’t get Otto out of there in time, panicked and ran for your help.”
    â€œAll possible, I suppose.”
    â€œBut you don’t buy any of them.”
    He shrugged.
    â€œFine.” She sounded irritated, an unusual stance for Skyler. She was their peacemaker. The one who brought people together on their team. But tonight he was seeing a different side of her. The tough investigator. “We can disagree on this as long as we’re clear that Ms. Curry is a suspect.”
    â€œWe’re clear.” He saw Krista and Opa returning, both of them slipping into their raincoats. Cash pushed off the wall. “I promise to give them a ride, then come running home like a good little boy.”
    â€œRight, joke about this as you always do but remember this conversation.” Shaking her head, Skyler turned to Krista and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else that might help, give me a call.”
    Cash escorted the pair down a ramp to ground level, where he nodded at the officer guarding the exit. Outside, the rain had let up and wispy fingers of steam rose up from the asphalt, disappearing into the dark night. Police cars, both county and city, sat in the lot. Red lights twisted into a swirly cotton candy of fog. A perimeter had been set up and officers dressed in rain gear stood sentry, holding the public at bay.
    Cash peered at Otto. “Employees park in an auxiliary lot. It’s a bit of a hike. You up for that, or do you want to wait here while I get the car?”
    Krista stared across the lot, her expression dark and unreadable. “Maybe we should wait here. We should be fine with all the cops around.”
    â€œStop fussing, Liebchen.” A stubborn look claimed the old man’s face. “I am able to walk.”
    Cash didn’t want to offend Otto, so he started walking at what he hoped was a slow enough stride to be comfortable. They neared police barricades holding back media crews fairly salivating to one-up each other in their coverage. Paul Parsons from the local News Channel Four TV station was making his way to the front of the crowd. He wore a damp white shirt, and his nondescript brown hair was plastered against his head.
    Cash stifled a groan. He’d expected reporters, but he’d rather not face the overly zealous Parsons. He’d tried the patience of FRS team members recently when he’d hounded Skyler after someone tried to kill her. Parsons had made it clear in his reports that he could do a better job in the investigation than the sheriff’s department or even better than Skyler’s FBI agent fiancé.
    But worse, in Cash’s opinion, was the way the man had harassed Skyler when she was injured and fragile. Parsons was a bully, plain and simple. If he started hassling Krista or Opa, Cash would have a hard time not pushing back.
    As expected, Parsons slipped past an officer and rushed toward them, his cameraman in tow. Cash put his head down and continued moving.
    Krista quickly flipped up her hood, seeming to shrink into her coat. “Do you think he knows who we are? That I saw the bomber?”
    â€œDoubtful, but if he
has
somehow learned you’re a witness, just say no comment and keep moving.” Cash used his body to shield Krista and Otto while easing them past the tenacious reporter.
    Parsons swiveled, planted his feet in front of Krista and shoved the microphone in her face, forcing her to stop. “Is it true, Ms. Curry, that you saw the bomber well enough to give the police a detailed description?”
    She took