“When the first bombing happened?”
He shrugged. “Probably not connected, but I know some of the SSU were explosives and munitions experts. What if they studied Jasper Swain’s MO and decided to mimic it?”
Her brow creased in thought. “It’s a pretty old fashioned MO. His style is primitive compared to the electronically triggered explosives available these days. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would use that kind of bomb if they had other options.”
“Unless it’s sentimental somehow.”
“Sentimental?”
“Maybe the serial bomber is a fan of old Jasper. Maybe he builds the bombs the Swain way as a tribute.”
Isabel looked skeptical. “Wouldn’t a more famous bomber be a better choice? Someone like the Unabomber or Rudolph—”
Scanlon shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m just spitballing at this point.” He held out his hand to her, bracing himself for the feel of her warm, strong hand in his.
She took his hand, and the tingling commenced, but he managed not to let her see how she affected him as he pulled her to her feet. She gave him a quizzical look but followed as he led her into the hall.
“I keep the files in here.” He opened the linen closet door and pulled up a loose floorboard. Besides the lockbox with the satellite phone, he also kept hidden a rectangular plastic box marked MISALGA, the Bureau shorthand for the bombing cases in Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia. He opened the box and handed her the thick portfolio where he kept copies of all the files on the case. “You up to a little light reading?”
She took the portfolio and grinned at him. “You bet.”
They both turned to head back into the living room when a sound from the front of the house brought them up short.
A second later, someone knocked on the door.
“Closet,” he said tersely, nodding toward the bedroom.
Holding onto the portfolio, Isabel disappeared behind the bedroom door, while Scanlon hurried to the living room and took a quick look at the porch through the window beside the door.
A curvy blond woman dressed in a linen suit stood in front of the door, glancing at her watch. Scanlon closed his eyes and released a sigh of frustration.
Dahlia was back.
“Mark, are you in there?”
He opened the door and pasted a smile on his face. “When did you get back in town?”
“Just a little while ago.” Dahlia McCoy lifted to her tiptoes and brushed her pink lips against his. “I ran into Davy in town and he said you were home, so I thought I’d drop by to say hello before I go back to the office.”
She entered without being asked, shrugging off her jacket to bare her toned, sun-kissed arms. She went straight to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Diet Coke. Settling on the sofa as if she intended to stay awhile, she smiled at Scanlon.
He smiled back, hiding his dismay with the skill of a now-practiced liar.
He’d forgotten to tell Isabel about his girlfriend.
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