raised her cell and relayed the Fulton County tag number to CID Headquarters. “Run the plates. Find out who the truck belongs to and get me an after-duty hours contact number for the company.”
After disconnecting, she and Colby entered the second building through an open doorway. Their flashlights illuminated inner walls that were framed but lacked drywall.
Colby pointed to his left. “You go that way. I’ll head right.” Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the maze of two-by-fours. The only sounds within the building were their muffled footfalls on the concrete-slab floor and the wind that blew through the open doorway.
They met up at the far end of the structure. A rustle caused them to turn their lights on a rodent scurrying for shelter.
“That’s one culprit we don’t need to follow.” Colby chuckled and then flexed his shoulders, hoping to ease the growing tension in his neck.
“I keep thinking that abandoned maintenance van might be important,” Becca said as they exited the building and retraced their steps to the fire scene.
Sergeant Flanders looked up as they neared. “Find anything?”
“One of the construction vans,” she said. “We’re running the plates and getting a phone number for the company. Probably an Atlanta-based firm that landed the building contract.”
“Any sign of the driver?” he asked.
Colby shook his head. “We searched the building. It’s clean.”
“Maybe the guy caught a ride home with a buddy.”
The fire chief hustled toward them. He was tall with serious eyes that stared at them from under his helmet. “The fire’s contained. I’ll have some of my guys keep watch throughout the night. We don’t want any hot embers to rekindle. One of my men is checking out something he saw in the unoccupied apartment on the bottom floor.”
The chief’s tone caused Colby’s gut to tighten. He sensed the entire investigation was about to change.
A younger man in full turnout gear approached the chief. “There’s a problem, sir. We found a body in the rubble.”
Colby turned to look at Becca. This time she didn’t avert her gaze. Instead she stared back at him.
“Was it Jacob?” she had whispered earlier.
Did the dead victim have anything to do with Becca?
* * *
“Hurry up and wait” was a standing joke in the army, although there was nothing funny about waiting for the medical examiner to arrive on site. After inspecting the body, he scheduled an autopsy for the following afternoon.
Crime-scene tape surrounded Becca’s quarters. A name tag found on the victim identified him as the project manager for Peachtree Construction Company.
At this point, foul play couldn’t be ruled out, but the most likely explanation was an accidental gas leak. Either the project manager had entered the unoccupied apartment suspecting a problem or had caused a malfunction once he was inside.
Becca kept thinking of what could have happened had she not awakened. Dark thoughts she had no reason to mention. Certainly not to Special Agent Voss, who hadn’t left her side since the explosion.
His presence played havoc with her internal calm. She needed space and a few moments to compose her tired and confused mind. The reoccurring dream of running from Jacob Yoder continued to haunt her. She sighed in an attempt to distance herself from the memory.
“Something wrong?” Colby asked.
Becca shook her head.
“You need some rest.”
“I’m fine.” A statement she had uttered too many times tonight. She wasn’t used to having someone underfoot, although she did appreciate his concern.
“The chief reserved a room for you at the Lodge, Becca. It’s time you headed there.”
Special Agent in Charge Craig Wilson had arrived onsite shortly after Arnold’s body had been uncovered. The CID commander now stood talking to the post provost marshal and Special Agents Jamison Steele and Brody Goodman.
Wilson was a tall African-American with broad shoulders and an innate ability to hone in on pertinent information that often solved a case. The high regard with which he was held in the entire CID was one of the reasons Becca had accepted the Georgia assignment. She could learn much under his direction.
Tonight she feared her credibility had been compromised. Wilson kept telling her to get out of the cold, yet he hadn’t mentioned the temperature to Colby nor to the other CID personnel on scene.
Maybe it was the oversize coat she wore and the baggy sweatpants that made her seem needy. Something she never wanted to be.
Wilson slapped the provost marshal’s back and nodded to Jamison and Brody before he walked purposefully toward where Becca stood.
“I’ve assigned Brody the lead on the death investigation.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You were the only occupant of the BOQ, Becca. Any chance the explosion was targeted at you?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“Has there been something in the past, a person who’s given you trouble, someone who threatened to do you harm?”
“There was an incident in my youth, sir, but that person died some years ago.”
Wilson rubbed his jaw. “It might be prudent to run down anyone you’ve arrested in the past few years, especially those who were incarcerated. Let’s ensure you can account for anyone who might have a grudge to bear.”
“Yes, sir.”
The chief glanced at Colby. “Becca’s new to post and doesn’t know the surrounding area. Look into the explosion, Colby, and ensure it doesn’t have anything to do with her past.”
“I can handle it, sir,” Becca objected.
Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you can, but this might get personal. I want Colby to watch your back.”
“But, sir—”
“Time for all of us to call it a night,” Wilson said before she could state her objection. “The military police will guard the building. The crime-scene folks plan to go over the area as soon as the fire marshal gives them the okay. In spite of the investigation, General Cameron wants every available unit on post to participate in the half marathon tomorrow.” He paused and stared at Colby. “You signed up to represent the CID?”
Colby nodded. “Yes, sir. Becca did, as well.”
Wilson turned to her. “No need for you to run, if you don’t feel up to it.”
“I’m fine, sir.”
“Then I’ll
