Page 51 of Near Miss

The sound of muffled movement was followed by Samuels whispering, “This really isn’t a great time.”

“I’ll be sure to let the Greek know that.”

The cop cursed under his breath. “Okay, okay. Give me a second.” It was more like twenty before he came back on and said, “How can I help you?”

“Email me everything the police have on the car bombing from last night.” He recited the throwaway address he’d created for this purpose.

“I, um—”

“You’re not going to tell me you can’t do it, are you?”

“No. No. I—I’ll get it. I just need a little time.”

“You have one hour. If I do not receive it by then, I’ll assume you are refusing to cooperate.”

“Hey. There’s no reason to—”

Korolev hung up.

Forty minutes later, Samuel’s email arrived, with an up-to-the-moment police report on the incident attached. Unfortunately, the police did not have much about the bombing so far.

The IDs of the victims—there were two—were still pending DNA tests. Trench’s name was listed, along with that of Thomas Bozeman, the owner of the car.

Bozeman worked at the gym that Trench used, so that’s where Korolev headed.

One of the first things he learned when he arrived was that Bozeman, who apparently went by Bozo, was the second gym manager to die that month. Both due to unnatural circumstances.

He also found out a trainer named Reggie Hogan had done a job for Trench and Bozo only an hour or so before the bomb went off. Hogan knew little, though, and was more hung up on the fact that he hadn’t been paid for the work. He did reveal that there was a woman on the job with him, who had played a larger role. For a hundred bucks, the man gave him the woman’s name and the location where she could be found.

Candy Parker started work at the diner at fourpm. Korolev arrived at 4:15 and took a seat at the counter.

After she poured him a cup of coffee, he said, “You’re Candy Parker, correct?”

“I am. Do we know each other?”

“We have a mutual acquaintance. Trench Molder.”

“Trench? That’s Bozo’s friend, right? I’ve seen him but never met him.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they were both killed last night?”

“What? Oh, my God!”

The outburst drew the attention of one of the other waitresses. “Candy? Everything all right?”

“Watch the counter,” Candy said, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for a response, she disappeared through a rear door.

Korolev followed and found her in the alley behind the restaurant, sitting on her heels, her back against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it’s shocking.”

It took a moment before she looked up at him. “How?”

“Someone blew up the car they were in.”

She put a hand over her mouth. “I went into the gym this morning to see Bozo, but was told he hadn’t arrived yet. I just saw him last night.”

“Near Patroon.”

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