do. Unfortunately we can’t know unless there’s another one.”
“I hope there’s not,” she said honestly. “It might make it easier to find the perp, but I’d rather not see it happen. Not at all.”
Just then Darcy’s cell phone began to vibrate in the breast pocket of her overalls. She pulled it out and answered the call.
“Agent Eccles, this is the sheriff’s office. We’ve picked up an intruder in the school gymnasium. Do you want us to keep him here or take him in for questioning?”
Her gaze leaped to Alex’s face. “Intruder,” she said. “Any ID?” she asked the deputy.
“Jackson Castor.”
* * *
Alex rode along with her in her black truck. He kept drumming his fingers on the window ledge, and his tension was almost palpable. He didn’t say anything, but Darcy had a good idea what he was thinking. Jackson. The kid he’d defended. What the hell was he doing poking around the evidence they had sequestered in the gym?
She was wondering exactly the same thing herself. Could they have really caught the bomber this easily? Experience had taught her that it wasn’t always difficult, and dealing with a kid Jackson’s age might make it a whole lot easier.
But strangely enough she didn’t want it to be Jack, even though she’d refused to let herself or Alex give the young man a pass. Warning flags. He was wearing them all.
She drove into the parking lot near the gymnasium end of the school. Several police cars were there now, lights swirling. “Jackson got himself into a mess,” she remarked as she parked and turned off the ignition.
“Sadly” was all Alex said. She glanced at him. Night had begun to deepen but the glow from the dashboard illuminated his face. His game face, she thought. Hard as granite. She wouldn’t have wanted to sit across an interrogation table from him right then.
They climbed out. Automatically Darcy carried her small evidence kit, which contained a digital recorder, among other smaller tools of investigation. She discovered she was hoping Jackson Castor had a really good explanation for this trespass.
She displayed her credentials to a deputy she didn’t know and was waved on through. Inside, two deputies sat on the bleachers to either side of a very chastened-looking Jack.
“Hey, Beau,” Alex said. “Hi, Cadell.”
The middle-aged deputy whose name tag said he was Sergeant Beauregard stood. “Lots of excuses, no real answers,” he said. “Jackson Castor. Age seventeen. But I guess you know him, Alex.”
“That I do. Is it all right if Agent Eccles and I question him ourselves?”
Beau nodded. “That’s why I called before I took him in. Hate to mess up a young idiot’s life unnecessarily.” He nodded to Darcy. “Agent. You need anything, let me know.”
“I certainly will, Sergeant Beauregard.”
“Just Beau. Nobody calls me anything else except my wife.”
“What does she call you?”
He flashed a grin. “Mostly nice things.” He and the other deputy, Cadell Marcus, moved around the edge of the gym.
Which left Darcy and Alex with a shamefaced Jack.
“Well?” Alex asked.
Darcy let him take the lead willingly at this point. Since he knew Jack, he might get further. Right now her insides felt as tight as an overwound spring.
Jack looked down. “I was curious. I saw all the stuff being moved, and I wanted to see how it was all laid out. How it works. I should have known there’d be a guard.”
Well, thought Darcy, that sounded naive enough to be believable. “How’d you get in?”
“I work as a trainer for the basketball team. I have keys.”
That caught her attention instantly. Forgetting that she wanted to look intimidating, she sat down beside Jack. “Keys, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you the trainer?”
“’Cause I’m not good enough to be on the team, but being the trainer gets me to all the away games for free.” He shrugged. “I was stupid, huh?”
“You could say that,” Alex replied, still standing, still looking intimidating.
“I just wanted to know.” Jack looked up. “I’ll never get to do this for real. Nobody will talk to me because I’m just a civilian. This’ll probably be my only chance to get up close to the ATF.” He flushed. “Darn, I sound like a girl with a crush.”
A remarkably astute observation, Darcy thought. She sighed. “How much do you know about what I do, Jack?”
“What I can read online.”
“Okay. Have you ever read what we look for around the scene in terms of people?”
“Profiles, you mean?” He glanced up at Alex as if seeking confirmation. “Oh, man. It’s me, isn’t it?”
“You how?” Darcy asked.
“Hanging around, showing too much interest, wanting to be in ATF and then this.” The young man jumped up. “But I didn’t do it!”
“I’m afraid,” said Alex heavily, “that Agent Eccles is now going to have to check you out. Thoroughly. Sorry, Jack, but even I can’t explain this away.”
Jack paced a few steps, then clenched his fists and closed his eyes. “Damn, I didn’t even think about that. I was just curious.”
“Maybe so,” said Darcy. “Did you notice anyone else who was interested?”
Jack’s eyes popped open. “I wasn’t paying attention to anyone else. Oh, man...”
Darcy wished he’d had a different answer. “Do I need to get a warrant to check out where you live?”
Jack shook his head. “Not for me. Come look. I’ll just tell my parents, I don’t think they’ll object because they won’t want me to be under suspicion. You can look at anything you want. When?”
“Now,” said Darcy, standing. “Sergeant Beauregard?”
“Yes, ma’am?” He came striding over.
“We’re going to need a few deputies to help us out. We need to investigate the Castor homestead.”
“How many?”
Darcy looked at Alex. “Are you familiar with the Castor place?”
“Been there several times.”
“Big?”
“I’d bring at least six deputies.”
