Page 27 of Holmes, Margaret and Poe

“Hit him right in the plate,” she said, sounding disgusted.

“That’s why you wear them,” Blades growled.

Mahoney appeared. “Mr. Blades, I am Agent Ned Mahoney, FBI. I’m in charge of the investigation into the shootdown of the American Airlines jet.”

“What?” he said, looking bewildered.

“You threatened to shoot down an American Airlines jet last year.”

Blades shook his head. “That was just me being ticked off, that’s all.”

I said, “On a chat room called Silent Warriors, Hand of Fate celebrated the fact that more than one hundred people died when that plane crashed.”

The former army bomb-squad member blinked and said nothing for several moments. Finally, he said, “I frickin’ hate American Airlines is all.”

“They lost your mother’s ashes,” Mahoney said.

“Damn straight they did,” he said, the anger apparent in his expression. “Cold frickin’ swine. Didn’t give a damn about the pain it caused me and my sisters. Offered us one ticket voucher. A goddamned ticket voucher for losing our mom’s ashes!”

I said, “Cameron, we are going to search this entire farm. An army of FBI agents is on its way here now. Are we going to find bomb components and fertilizer? Evidence that you own a fifty-caliber machine gun?”

The anger in his eyes turned to hatred.

“Cameron?” I said.

“I think I want a lawyer before I say another thing.”

CHAPTER 27

BREE DIDN’T KNOW WHETHERto trust Rolf Himmel’s description of his marriage to Leigh Anne Asher — or Maggie Fontaine or whoever the founder of Amalgam really was.

She took an Uber home. On the way, she called Elena Martin and filled her in on what Himmel had told her about his marriage to the tech mogul.

“All true, but don’t quote me,” her boss said. “And I didn’t understand the tax-haven thing either. But she said it was significant.”

“So you knew her originally as Maggie Fontaine?”

“In school, that’s right.”

It made Bree a little dizzy, but she said, “Okay, different direction before we go to the FBI and the police with what we have. After Jill gets me Leigh Anne’s credit card records —”

“She’s already gotten into the accounts. Zero activity in the past three days.”

“I’ll request cell phone records through a friend of mine right now,” Bree said as the Uber pulled up in front of her home. “With luck, we’ll have them by morning.”

“We’re going to find her, right, Bree?” Martin said, sounding heartbroken.

“We’ll find her, Elena,” Bree said, getting out of the car. “I’ve been looking less than twelve hours.”

“Whatever you need. Whatever it takes.”

Bree ended the call and walked to the porch, suddenly feeling whiplash from the events of the day. All she wanted to do was lie on her back on a hard floor and let gravity realign her spine and take the tension away.

“Bree!”

She turned to see Sampson trotting up the sidewalk. “I’m late for Willow. Again.”

“It’s only six thirty,” Bree said. “And she’ll understand.”

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