Wexford nodded. “What we still don’t know is if these three men, or four if you want to include Ray, are part of a larger organization or if they’re doing this all on their own.”

  Morgan crossed her arms as she slid into the free chair next to where she’d been standing. Wexford mimicked her move and sat across from her. “We know they are part of a larger organization. Ray told us that. It was how he met Ian and Tim. They were part of National Freedom Party.”

  “But we don’t think that group is masterminding the attacks?”

  Shaking her head, Morgan gave Fiona a hard stare. “No. It’s a very nonviolent group, mostly just angry people who rarely if ever make it to the action stage. Like I said before, Ian is the wild card. I’d love to get some more background on him because I’d be willing to bet he’s part of more than one group and there’s something in his psyche that would push him to this level of violence, and from what we’ve seen, once he was pushed to that level, he ran with it.”

  “Agreed,” Wexford muttered. “Three massive attacks in such a short period of time.”

  Morgan paused. She stared at Wexford with wide eyes. “You’re right.”

  “What?”

  “These were two massive attacks. He doesn’t fit the bill as someone who would jump from nothing to huge. There was the factory bombing in there, but even then that’s big enough to attract attention.”

  “You think there was another bombing.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “I do.”

  “Spencer?”

  “Yup.”

  The two of them went straight back to the room with Spencer. Morgan didn’t bother sitting. She stood by the door, her feet planted as if for battle as she stared down the young man in front of her. He was so young, so lost, and he really could not have been in the more perfect state for her question.

  “Tell me about the first bombing.”

  “What bombing?”

  “The first one.” She was vague for a reason, and she wanted to see which way Spencer ran with it.

  “It didn’t work.”

  “What do you mean it didn’t work?” Morgan wanted to add more to the question, but she restrained herself. The more open-ended questions the better it seemed to work with Spencer, and she didn’t want to assume the factory was the first bombing.

  Spencer shrugged. “It didn’t work.”

  “The bomb didn’t go off?”

  His chin went up and down.

  “Where were you trying to bomb?”

  “Convenient store.”

  Morgan turned a look on Wexford that said she was pissed she hadn’t thought of it before. “Which one?”

  “It’s a few blocks from the apartment building.”

  Morgan would have to get video footage from there, but she bet Ian likely frequented the shop and knew that it was filled with people he would want to attack. “Tell me about it. When was it?”

  “Month or so ago. Ian put it in the trash can outside the door, but it never went off.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Morgan inwardly cursed. She should have seen the factory bombing wasn’t the first one. She should have known better. “Tell me what the plan was.”

  “Ian was doing it all. He’s the one who made the plan. Tim and I just kept a lookout so no one would see him, but then, I don’t know, something went wrong and it didn’t work.”

  “Was Ian mad?”

  “Really mad.” Spencer shuddered. “He…he gets really mad sometimes.”

  “Mad about what?”

  “When things don’t go right.”

  Morgan pressed her hands together, folding her fingers, and then straightening again. “What happens when Ian gets mad?”

  “He yells.”

  “Is he violent?”

  Spencer shrugged. Morgan risked a glance to Wexford who looked just as rapt as she was. This would absolutely be helpful when they were bringing Ian in and it lent to what they might be facing when they went to go get him. It solidified the fact that Morgan would be present when Ian was arrested.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket again, and she ignored it. “Is he violent, Spencer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Violent how?”

  “He throws shit. It’s hard to tell with him.”

  “Okay.” Morgan drew in a breath and stepped out of the room. She checked her phone that was still buzzing. “Carrie, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong here. I just heard about there. Are you all right?”

  Morgan sighed. “I’m fine. You don’t need to call. I’m rather busy.”

  Carrie scoffed. “You’re my big sister, and I just heard there were bombs going off all over Chicago. Don’t tell me not to worry.”

  Morgan slid a glance to Fiona and shook her head in shock. “I’m fine. I have work to do though if you want me to solve this.”

  “How did you not know it was going to happen? I mean…you’re the best profiler according to you, so how did you not know? Is the FBI just inept?”

  “Now you sound like Mom, and I’m hanging up. Have a good day, Carrie.” Ending the call, Morgan reoriented her brain as best she could.

  “Sister?” Wexford asked.

  “Who else?”

  “Well, your mom—”

  “Oh, no, she called earlier. Be glad you only have one brother to worry about. I expect the rest, Amya excluded and perhaps Clyde, will call in the next few hours. If I didn’t need to keep my phone on me for work things, I’d just leave it at my desk.”

  “Don’t answer.”

  Morgan snorted. “That’ll just make it worse.”

  “Have one of them play communicator.”

  Morgan nearly choked. While it was an idea in theory, she’d tried that several times through the years and it never worked in the long run. “Been there, done that.”

  The smile playing at Fiona’s lips tugged at something in Morgan’s chest, but she wasn’t going to play into it. She was still pissed about what she’d figured out.

  “Come on, let’s finish this case.”

  “Couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The sun wasn’t even up when Ian pulled up outside of Tim’s house. Tim sat on the front steps of the whitewashed porch, a cigar between his lips and a glass with a brown amber liquid in it between his fingers. Ian parked and stepped out, moving to sit next to Tim on the porch.

  “Pretty sure they have Spence.”

  Tim snorted. “Yeah. They got him first. I feel bad for the poor kid. Who knows what he’s going through in there.”

  Ian shrugged. “What are you doing out here?”

  Sliding his gaze from the sidewalk in front of him to Ian, Tim sighed. “You know what I’m doing. I don’t want to scare the kids.”

  “You going to kill yourself?”

  “No.” Tim finished his drink and set the cup to the side before refilling it with the bottle Ian hadn’t seen before. The bottle only had a quarter of it left.

  Ian held his hand out. “Do you mind?”

  Tim hesitated, but he did hand the liquor bottle over. Ian stared down at it, snorting when he saw the logo on it and drank straight from the bottle. It burned as it went down his throat, but the alcohol he had drank earlier that night already warmed his belly.

  They sat there in silence for another ten minutes, drinking and smoking. Ian wasn’t sure he had ever seen Tim smoke anything before, but it didn’t surprise him to see the cigar between his fingers. If Tim was going to smoke anything it would be that. Ian knew that unless Tim went with him that morning they wouldn’t ever see each other again. Ian had a plan, and he was going to stick with it.

  The dew on the wood they sat on was almost too much. It wetted the back of Ian’s pants so the fabric stuck to his skin. Shifting slightly, Ian let out a sigh. He enjoyed the time they had together, refilling Tim’s cup several times as they sipped.

  “When do you think they’ll come?” Tim asked.

  Ian shrugged. “Not planning to wait and find out.”

  Tim took the last drag of his cigar before he snuffed it out into the wood next to him. The sun started to rise over the city. They couldn’t see the ball of fire, but it was just the light peeking through the buildings and houses. Tim lived in one of the nicer neighborhoods compared to where Spencer lived and where Ian had lived before he’d moved into his brother’s basement.

  There wasn’t much they could do to avoid the inevitable. Ian had always know Spencer was the weakest link in their chain. If he was captured, surely they would be after Tim and him shortly. That was why he’d made his plans. That was why he’d figured one last impact he could make into everything. He wasn’t going out without standing fully for what he believed and what he knew to be truth.

  “How are the kids?” Ian asked, not quite sure why he was making small talk, but they were at the end of the line, there was no reason to not.

  “They’re good. TJ is excited about going to high school next year. AnneMarie is boy crazy as ever.”

  Ian snorted. He hadn’t spent nearly as much time with Tim’s family as he had thought he would. The kids were always running all over the place here and there, but Tim’s wife took care of most of that. With another drag from the tequila, Ian handed it over to Tim.

  “You should come with me,” Ian started.

  Tim shook his head. “No.”

  “You can’t stay here.”

  Tim turned to Ian, his eyes wide but clear when he spoke next. “I won’t have my kids watching me be arrested on the news, Ian, and I won’t have them be traumatized by what they’ll do to me.”

  “I can understand that.” Ian stole the booze back and chugged the last of the bottle. “See you.”

  Standing up, Ian walked to the end of the yard and his car. The tequila sat in his belly, warming him. It took him two tries to get the key into the ignition, but he finally started the engine. Ian sat in the car, staring at the sunrise as the rays warmed the cold dew he’d just been sitting in.

  Staring at the sky, Ian bolstered himself. This was going to be his last stand, his last chance to make an impact, and his last moment to show people what they needed to see. He had to burst the bubble of political correctness, and this time, he was on his own for it all.

  Ian glanced once more over at Tim, who still sat on his front steps like he was waiting for them to come and take him away. Tim was resigned. He was empty. He had no more fight left to give, but Ian had every fight left and every reason to carry on the war.

  Leaning into the passenger seat, Ian pulled out one last backpack. He checked everything inside. This one was different than all the rest. There was no timer. There was no clock. This time, he had a button. He was going to go when he wanted to, when it was the perfect timing and he was in the perfect position.

  Ian settled the kill switch he’d hooked up into his lap, and he pulled away from the curb after lighting another cigarette. Smoke filled the cab as he drove out of the neighborhood. It took his full concentration to make it to the main road leading in to where Tim lived.

  Ian’s eyes widened in surprise as he saw the SWAT cars moving in. His heart ramped up as he tracked their movements. Tim wasn’t wrong. They were there. He was going to be arrested. At least Tim would get exactly what he wanted and his kids wouldn’t hopefully be witness to it.

  Police cars followed from a distance. Ian watched a few pass him going the direction he had just come from, but he stepped on the gas and very carefully coaxed his car away from what was about to happen. If they were there, then there was no way Ian could go back to his brother’s. Not that he had planned on it.

  His chest rose and fell as he focused everything he could on driving and not letting all the officers in the area think he was drunk or involved. He kept his head down. Ian drove forward until he came to the stoplight. Waiting for it to turn green, he lifted his chin and stared out his side window at a black SUV, no doubt part of the police brigade about to take down Tim.

  Inside were two women, both brunettes. The one with shorter hair, cut close to her head was driving, and the other one stared directly at him. Ian swallowed. He couldn’t break their eye contact as much as he wanted to. He clenched his jaw, watching as the other one turned the corner to follow the other cops to Tim’s house.

  Ian’s heart swelled in panic when the driver turned her chin up and looked right at him. He was had. He knew it. He shouldn’t have gone out to see Tim, shouldn’t have stayed so long, drinking. But it had felt so good just to sit with Tim, without the worries, with the resignation they both felt for what was going to happen.

  The light turned green. Ian stepped on the gas and went straight through it to the next street. He tried not to look in his rearview mirror, but he needed to know if they had turned around. With his breath held tightly and the tension in his shoulders, Ian looked up and into his rearview mirror.

  The dark SUV headed to the end of the block and then pulled a U-turn.

  “Fuck,” Ian muttered.

  He didn’t wait. Stepping on the gas, Ian took the next righthand turn to try and get rid of them before they caught up. Ian slid his old beat up car in between the large buildings and into an alley. He waited, driving to the end to see if the SUV drove passed or followed him. He needed to be able to make it to one last place where he could make his stand. He just had to get there.

  He made it all the way to the end of the alley and was just about to pull out onto the next road when he saw them. They turned to follow him. Cursing, Ian slapped his palm against the steering wheel.

  With his foot to the pedal, he slammed it down. There was no way to get out of it now. Pulling out into the street, Ian drove like he wasn’t being followed. He didn’t want them to think he suspected anything, although the alley stunt may have given him away, he hoped it didn’t. He didn’t want to alert them too soon before he got to the community center. Spencer had fucked up that target, but Ian was determined to take it down with him, one last statement.

  The weight of the trigger in his lap was heavy even though Ian knew that was impossible. He felt the responsibility on his shoulders. They already had Spencer, then they got to Tim. So it was him left, that was it. He was the holdout on the line, and he had to do the work for all of them.

  Ian turned onto the highway, driving from Tim’s neighborhood back toward the community center. He knew he couldn’t do as much damage as they had originally intended, but he would make the statement and that was far more important. He needed to take someone out with him, take someone who would mean something.

  In some ways, Ian wondered if he had failed. In others, he knew he had succeeded. He’d brought notice to his line of thinking. He’d brought light onto the subject and the problems that rampant immigration was having on their community. He was the one who had made people aware of the problems the next generation were going to have if they didn’t do something about it right then and there.

  Still, there was so much more work to do, but it was going to have to be carried on without him. Perhaps Tim could help wherever he ended up, Spencer too, although their roles would look far different than they did the past few months.

  Ian watched the SUV follow him and wondered briefly when the next cop car would turn around and join in the chase. He snorted at the thought. It was a chase. They had no idea where he was going, what he was doing, or that he even had a bomb in the vehicle with him. But they were still following him—two bitches in a car. He shook his head at the thought. He wouldn’t let two lady-cops bring him down. No, he would be brought in properly by men who deserved the position and title.

  If he was going to be brought in at all.

  Ian carefully wove in and out of traffic, keeping to the main roads as much as he could. He wanted to wait until it was time for morning prayers, and he had two hours before that would happen. Luckily, he had a full tank of gas that he’d filled up with the last of the credit on his card. His hand shook as he tried to get the end lit to a cigarette. As soon as he set his lighter in the cup holder, he inhaled the smoke to help relax.

  Two hours. He could do that. He could drive around, let them waste their own gas and resources until it was time for him to head to the community center and make his last stand. The SUV that was following him, the one with the two women, stayed decently close by far enough. If he hadn’t seen them when he was leaving Tim’s neighborhood, he likely could have missed them following him the entire time.

  No other vehicle seemed to follow in the chase—at least not yet.

  Ian’s drunkenness floated into a buzz, and he became more and more aware of the danger he was in of losing out on his last chance to make an impact. He needed to let the world know everything he knew. He needed to let Chicago know that people like him weren’t going to keep quiet any longer, that they weren’t going to just shut up and suffer in silence. They needed to know the repercussions of the decisions they made and of the people they put into office.

  His tongue dashed out to wet his lips as he took another turn. He knew those streets like the back of his hand. He’d driven them so many times between his various jobs here and there, between his various moves as he was evicted and then as he found a new home until the next job dried up. It had been his life for the last fifteen years, never anything good enough to keep him because he didn’t have the right skin color to make them have to keep him.

  Anger surged through Ian’s chest, and instead of driving slowly, he sped up and cut off the driver in front of him. The SUV followed without a beat. He couldn’t wait any longer. Screw the community center. He’d just take out the dumb bitches behind him. They’d be enough. They’d have to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Morgan had barely slept the night before. She’d gotten enough rest to feel like she could join in the arrest of Timothy Berry, but when she drove with Wexford sitting right next to her, she wished they had taken separate vehicles. She was still pissed, and she hadn’t had a moment to confront Fiona, or Pax for that matter.

  With her vest strapped to her chest, Morgan followed the path that was predetermined for her to take to get to Timothy Berry’s house. They’d decided he would be the easier of the two to arrest so would go for him first so he wouldn’t alert Ian Ballard to the fact they were on to them.