“Still eager to take him on?”

Jennifer turned to Milton, who’d walked up behind her. “Eager?”

A touch of defiance glimmered in his eyes, but he didn’t elaborate.

“Why did he blow it early?”

“He said no cops. He obviously learned that your department had been informed—”

“They always say no cops. You’re not a cop?”

“According to Kevin, he said FBI only.”

Milton scoffed.

Jennifer frowned. “No cops. Evidently the history he has with us figures into his game. Bottom line is, he laid down a rule; we broke it; he blew the bus early.”

“And what if he said no FBI? Would you back out? I don’t think so. This is my city. You don’t have the right to cut me out.”

“I’m not cutting you out, Milton. Your men are all over the place.”

“I’m not referring to mopping up. He’s going to call again and the city knows that. They have a right to know.”

“The city? You mean the press. No, Milton. The press has a right to know anything that might lend to the city’s safety. You’re looking at a bus this time; the next time it could be a building. You willing to risk that for the sake of protocol? If you’ll excuse me, I have a case to attend to.”

Milton’s stare grew hot. “This is my city, not yours. I have a personal stake; you don’t. Unfortunately, it seems that I’m powerless to do anything about your jurisdiction, but I was assured by your bureau chief that you would cooperate. Slater so much as coughs and you withhold it, I’ll have your replacement here in five minutes.”

Jennifer was tempted to slap his smug mug. She’d have to call Frank and explain. In the meantime, Milton was a thorn she would have to deal with.

“I don’t like you either, Detective. You’re too interested in your own good for my tastes, but I suppose that’s personal. I’ll keep you updated through Galager and I’ll expect yourcooperation in assisting us in any way you can. We’re not stupid enough to refuse all the help we can get. But you will do nothing without my authorization. If Slater suspects your involvement, he may do ‘your’ city more harm than you’re willing to take the heat for. Agreed?”

He eyed her carefully and then relaxed. Didn’t expect that, did you, Colombo?She had no intention of keeping him materially involved, she realized, and the thought surprised her. In fact, in more ways than one, she welcomed Slater’s restrictions. This was between her and Slater and Kevin, regardless of how personal Slater wanted to get.

“I want to put a full-court press on his house,” Milton said. “Complete electronic surveillance, including wiretaps. You haven’t ordered them?”

“Not wiretaps. Slater’s not using the landline. The cell wizards have been monitoring the frequency on the cell phone he gave Kevin for the past forty minutes—I put in the request as soon as I left his house this morning. Slater called Kevin thirty minutes ago, just before he blew the bomb. Nothing even registered with our wizards. He’s not dumb enough to talk without scrambling. This isn’t your typical hack. I have an order in to fix a recording device, an AP301, to his phone ASAP, but we didn’t have it on this call.”

Milton glared. “I’ll put someone on the house.”

“No. No cops, or didn’t you get that part?”

“For crying out loud, woman! You just chewed me out less than three hours ago for not having someone on him last night!”

“I’ll put my own agents on the house. Keep your men clear. If you want to go head-to-head, I’ll leak this to the press.” She hesitated. “You get anything on the officer I asked about?”

Milton looked away and answered with some reluctance. “Officer Rick Sheer. He moved back to the San Francisco area ten years ago. Died of cancer five years ago. There’s no record that we can find of any incident involving the boy you mentioned. But that doesn’t surprise me. Cops routinely deal with neighbors off the record. You say he threatened the boy’s father—the incident obviously blew over. No official complaint, no arrest.”

Jennifer’s heart sank. That left Kevin. And Samantha. Hopefully one of them would recall something that might give them a clue to the boy’s identity. All they currently had was Kevin’s description, which was practically useless.

“Can you have them look again? What about a personal notebook or—”

“We wouldn’t have anything like that.”

“Cooperation, remember? Have them look again.”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. I assume you’ve met Agent Galager. You’ll be dealing primarily with him from here out.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to do what I was trained to do, try to figure out who Slater is. Excuse me, Detective.”

She walked past the bus, found Galager. “What do you have?”

“Same guy who did the car.” Bill Galager was a redhead with too many freckles to count. He glanced at Nancy, who knelt over fragments of twisted metal at the flash point.

“She’s good.”

Jennifer nodded. “Work over the evidence in her lab with her and then send it on to Quantico for more testing. Bring this to Milton’s attention, and please do your best to keep him off my back.”

“Will do. What about any evidence they find at his house?”

A team had arrived at Kevin’s house twenty minutes earlier and was scouring the place for anything Slater might have left. She doubted they would find anything. The victims’ houses in Sacramento had yielded nothing. Slater might have no scruples, but he had plenty of discipline.

“Same. Let’s do our own sweep as well. If you find anything, let me know. I’ll be by your office in a couple hours.”

He nodded. “You think it’s him?”

“Until I find evidence that contradicts it.”

“There are some differences. Could be a copy cat.”

“Could be. But I don’t think so.”

“And I’m assuming Kevin matches the victim profile?”

Jennifer searched Galager’s eyes. Bill was one of the only agents who’d known Roy well enough to call him a friend.

“He could be Roy in another life,” she said. Then she turned toward the coffee shop.

At least five hundred onlookers had gathered behind the police lines now. The news crews were set up, sending live feed across the country. Both Fox News and CNN were undoubtedly running alerts. How many times had the American public seen pictures from Israel of twisted bus wreckage? But this was California. Here, you could count the incidents over the past ten years on one hand.

Milton was giving the vultures an update. Good for him.

11

JENNIFER’S VOICE JARRED KEVIN from his thoughts.

“Hey, cowboy, you want a ride out of here?”

He looked up from the corner table and blinked. “Sure.”

“Let’s go.”

She didn’t take him home. Detectives were still searching the place for anything Slater might have left. It would take them a few hours.

“They’re not going to dump my underwear drawers, are they?”

Jennifer laughed. “Not unless Slater left his shorts.”

“Probably just as well I’m gone.”

“You like things neat, don’t you?”

“Clean, sure.”

“That’s good. A man should know how to do laundry.”

“Where’re we going?”

“You have the phone with you?”

He instinctively felt his pocket. Amazing how small phones could be. He pulled it out and flipped it open. It fit in his palm, open.

“Just checking,” she said, turning onto Willow.

“You think he’ll call again?” he asked.

“Yes, the confession wasn’t what he was looking for.”

“I guess not.”

“But he does want a confession. You’re sure about that, right?”

“That’s what he said. When I confess, he goes away. But confess what?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? What does Slater want you to confess? You have no inkling whatsoever?”

“I just ruined my career and only God knows what else by telling the world that I tried to kill a boy—believe me, if I’d thought of any alternative to that confession, I’d have spilled my guts.”