"Can you give me a list of the current ones we're watching closely?"

  "Sure."

  "Thanks. Just uh...email it over." Morgan stood up, realizing she was far too close to Adena for comfort. She did not want to give the wrong impression. "This was helpful. Thank you."

  When she got to her floor, she knew Pax was back. He had refilled her coffee for her, which made her smile, but he was nowhere to be found. Sitting at her desk, Morgan checked her email, still not having anything from Adena. Instead, she shut down her investigation into the bombing and pulled up her reports on the trafficking case. Surely some of their undercover officers would have something new to report by then. Losing herself in the case she really wanted to be working on, Morgan lost track of time.

  Chapter Ten

  Ian made sure to watch the news reels as much as he could. He wanted answers. They had talked, briefly, about an explosion, but that was it. Anger surged in his chest every time he thought about it. If they thought it was just some stupid explosion and not an actual threat, it wouldn't scare anyone. Well, it might, but not enough. They needed to do something bigger, something that would truly make the filthy dogs want to go back where they came from.

  It wasn't going to make a lick of difference if they weren't scared. The impact they had made was next to nothing. Spencer had pretty much been drunk since he heard they'd killed three of them. But it was good. It was good they had at least some small impact. Three families scared was better than none scared. He had to get rid of them, get back his job as soon as he good. He deserved it, so did everyone else around him: his brother, Tim, Tim's kids. This was all for them.

  Ian picked Tim up, and they drove to the bar. Spencer didn't need any help getting drunk since he was there already. They sat down in one of the corners of the room with their beers in hand. Tim stared at the table, but Ian was still raging mad.

  "We need to lay low for a bit," Tim whispered.

  "I know," Ian answered. His foot bounced on the rung of the bar stool, his fingers tapped against his glass. He was jittery as hell. And if anything, he was the one who needed to calm down, not Tim and not Spencer. "They didn't take it seriously."

  "Who didn't?" Tim asked.

  "Anyone," Ian whisper-screamed across the table. "No one took it seriously."

  "Yeah." Tim shrugged. "I thought it would be a good place to start out, but maybe I was wrong."

  Ian clenched his jaw. It had been a good place to start, to test out what kind of impact they would have, what changes they would need to make. "It was a good place. Next time we just need to go bigger."

  "Bigger?" Tim's eyes widened. "You sure?"

  "Yes." Ian swallowed down a swig of beer. "Much bigger."

  "When?"

  "Few weeks from now? You want to figure this out without Spence here?"

  Tim leaned back on his stool. "Let's face it, he's not the brains of the operation."

  "He's not, but he is useful."

  "Some days." Tim took a slow sip of his beer. "Where?"

  "Somewhere easier to get to. Don't get me wrong, the factory was a good idea, but we couldn't get close enough to the building to get anything inside. This time, we need to make a good impact."

  Tim let out a slow breath. "I'm just tired of it all. It's too hard to keep working with them, too hard to keep up the ruse that I don't see good people losing out on good jobs because they're not the right color to fill diversity requirements. I hate having to pass up someone for a hire so I can do that."

  Ian paused, staring up at Tim. "It's not your fault. You know that. It's their fault for not standing up for what this country was built on. The backs of our ancestors. We're the ones who fought for this freedom, who fought for the right to have jobs and to earn money to not have to worry about them raping our daughters."

  Tim nodded his agreement. "I know, Ian. It's so hard to watch our neighborhood go to pits."

  "Least you still have a neighborhood." The last of it was said into Ian's beer, which he promptly downed the rest. Waving over the waitress, he ordered another one. Leaning in, he kept his voice low. "Two weeks."

  "Where?"

  "Don't know. We'll figure it out. Until then, let's see what really comes of this factory thing. I'd hate for someone to get the wrong idea about it." Saying the last bit a little louder for those in the back who no doubt hadn't heard him yet or knew what had happened, he shook his head. "It's all just a bunch of shit."

  "A big bunch of horse shit."

  Snickering, Ian grinned. "Yeah. Horse shit. You think Spence will be up for joining us?"

  "I really do," Tim answered. "He may not be with it, Ian, but look at him. He never stood a chance. Unlike you, he didn't grow up when there was a time for people like us to get jobs. He grew up when there were none, when we'd already let them all into this country. He didn't grow up with a family that had a strong backbone or morals. The kid is lost, and he's just that—a kid."

  Ian agreed. "He is just a kid. That's why I worry about him. If anyone is going to take up this cause, it should be us, the ones it won't matter to much. We can do this for them, make it better for them. Then his kids, and yours, won't have to deal with it."

  "I don't want my kids to have to deal with this. They deserve so much better than what we've been handed."

  "That's why we're doing this!" Ian shut up quickly when he saw the waitress coming over with his beer in hand. As soon as she was out of earshot, he repeated himself. "That's why we're doing this."

  "I know. I just wish Ray could see that."

  Ian snorted. "Ray's an old idiot. He doesn't know his left from his right, and he doesn't know what to do with himself unless his wife tells him to do it. She probably even tells him when to shit and when to piss."

  "I guess."

  Tim didn't seem too convinced, so Ian dropped it. Ray and him went back far. They worked together for years before Ray had finally retired. "You going to the meeting tomorrow?”

  "Yeah. You?"

  "Planning on it. I need to be around some like-minded people."

  Tim chuckled. "I get that."

  "You hear if they have any thoughts on who done it?"

  "Nothing. Don't even think they think it was anyone. Why? You hear something?"

  "Nothing." His anger was back. This time it wasn't just because of the injustices he was experiencing but it was because of the failure of him to do something about it. Twice now. He had to do something different next time, something he couldn't fail at.

  ###

  They took a few days to round up ideas. Meeting in Ian's basement, he was ready to get everything moving. The supplies had come in, and he'd begun working on what they would need. He didn't want to wait any longer. Sitting across from Tim, Ian weighed their options.

  "You haven't talked to anyone, have you?" Spencer asked Tim.

  "Who would I talk to? You talk?"

  "No." Spencer's hand fidgeted in his lap. "I keep waiting for the cops to show up and arrest me."

  "For what? Chickening out?" Ian sneered. "The cops have no idea what happened. They think a gas pipe burst or something."

  "Or something," Tim repeated, raising his eyebrows up and down. "They really don't know what's going on, Spence. They've got nothing to go on, nothing to see, nothing at all. They have no idea who we are or what we did. They really don't. They've got their heads so far up their asses with trying to follow the rules the governments makes them follow that they can't even enforce the laws anymore nonetheless spend the time trying to figure out a crime they don't even think happened."

  Spencer nodded. "Okay, yeah. Just checking. What if...what if we hit that street where they all hang out?”

  "What street?" Ian asked as he glanced up from the map laid out on the table.

  "You know, where the store is. There's a few apartments down there, too, where they all live together like cattle. There's supposed to be some kind of big thing going on there next week. We could hit that."

  "Will they be outside?" Ian asked. He wanted to cover all his bases this time.

  Spencer nodded. "Should be. They do it every year. How have you guys not seen it?"

  "You live right across from it, Spence. We don't. We don't see that kind of stuff."

  Spencer nodded, his hands still jittery. Ian had noticed it multiple times, and he was pretty sure Spencer was taking more than just alcohol, but he wasn't going to comment. Like Tim had said at the bar the week before, Spencer had never stood a chance of growing up with a backbone. And that's exactly what Ian believed addiction was, a spineless, cowards act.

  "If everyone is out, how are we going to do it?" Tim asked the obvious question.

  Ian mulled it over. He did know about the festival. He'd always avoided going out that day if he even remembered when it was. Usually he just tried to avoid that street all together. He rubbed his beard that he hadn't shaved in weeks, and stared down at the map in front of him. Spencer was right—it was the ideal place to hit next.

  "Why don't we just drop them where we can and go. Set them to all go off at the same time. That way we know when to leave but no one else does."

  "How many?" Tim asked.

  "Three. One for each of us."

  "We should do six," Spencer added.

  Ian turned to him with open eyes. "You sure?"

  "You get enough for it?"

  Ian glanced at the bedroom where he'd set up his workstation. He'd been working on making the basics for the bombs, had even ordered supplies again. It was going to take some time for them to come in, but he had enough to make five at least.

  "Maybe. I'll have to see as I go."

  "How many?"

  "Four, maybe five."

  "Do it. If we want to scare them off, if we want to tell them like we mean it, then we have to mean it,” Spencer said.

  It was the first time that Ian had thought Spencer was truly with them. One glance at Tim told him he thought the same thing. Spencer was taking the bull by the horns, and he wasn't letting go. It was perfect. Exactly what they needed.

  "When's the festival?"

  "All day," Spencer answered.

  "Saturday?"

  "Yeah."

  "Let's do it, then. I mean, we aren't getting any younger, and we need to show these lowlifes who's boss. I'm tired of living like this." Ian clenched a fist as he stared down at the map. It really was the perfect plan. They might get caught that time, but it would be worth it. He had to keep reminding himself that. This was all to make their town better, to take it back from the people who had stole it from him, to get lives back on track.

  Tim stood up and walked toward the bedroom. "Need help, Ian?"

  "Yeah. If we're going to do this in five days, I need all the help I can get."

  The three of them wandered into the bedroom. Ian lifted the cloth he had put over the work station and started to set everything up. He took three casings and set one in front of each of them. "I'll tell you what to do, okay?"

  "Sounds good." Tim rolled up his sleeves and got ready to work.

  Spencer stared from one to the other. "I'm not sure I'm smart enough to figure this out."

  "Well, good thing you don't have to and I'm just going to tell you what to do." Ian shot him a glare. "Don't worry. I'll double-check everything to make sure you did it correctly, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  The three of them worked, simultaneously putting together three bombs. It took them hours, but they were done before dawn. Tim had begged off close to midnight, heading home, but since Spencer had only his sometimes-girlfriend to go back to he remained, and he stayed relatively sober, which was a surprise for Ian.

  Ian set the bombs to the side, being careful with them. He calculated how much he had left of everything and readied himself to make the next one. "I think I can make two more, but definitely not three."

  "Give me two on Saturday."

  Ian glanced up at Spencer. "You sure?"

  "Yeah. I need to make up for the last time."

  "All right. You asked for it."

  Chapter Eleven

  It was ten in the morning when Morgan got the call. She had almost missed it between coffee runs to the small kitchenette in her division. She grabbed her phone and pressed it to her ear. “This is Special Agent Stone.”

  “Morgan. It’s Dana. Something…I don’t know…something happened.”

  Every muscle in Morgan’s body tensed with fear. Dana Atwood. She hadn’t expected to hear from her pretty much ever until the trial. “What happened?”

  Dana sighed. Morgan slipped into her chair at her desk and immediately grabbed a notebook and pen, ready to write everything down exactly as she heard it. When there was silence echoing on the like, Morgan checked her phone to make sure it was still connected.

  “Dana?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know. Last week Dimitri told his caregiver he saw Mr. Jimmy. She thought it was just another nightmare.”

  “I assume he has those often?”

  “Yeah.”

  Morgan wrote down the word “nightmares” on her pad. “But this wasn’t?”

  “No, but it took her another week to figure it out because once again Dimitri told her he saw Mr. Jimmy.”

  Morgan twisted in her chair to look for Pax. He needed to know exactly what she was hearing, but he was nowhere in sight. “Where?”

  “Apparently it’s been more than just the twice. He’s been seeing him for months.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No.” Dana’s voice wavered on that word. “I wish I was.”

  “Have you looked into it any?”

  “Yes.” There was a petulant tone to her voice, like Morgan was questioning her abilities when she really was just fishing for information. “We’ve found nothing, but of course, we don’t have a name yet.”

  Swallowing, Morgan pulled up her files. She was sure it was Jonathon Lockland of Lockland Divisions. He had enough power, grit, mystery, and creepiness about it for it to be true, but they hadn’t verified anything. She worried her lip. “Give me the dates Dimitri says he saw him. I’ll compare to the dates we have for traveling.”

  “I did that.”

  Morgan rubbed the bridge of her nose and grabbed her glasses and plopped them on her nose as she went to check the reports from the under-covers that had been turned in, hoping something in them would give her some sort of information. “And none of it matched?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So either whoever he is he’s sneaking under our radar or…”

  “Or…we have no idea who Mr. Jimmy is.”

  “Fuck,” Morgan muttered as her shoulders tensed even more. She didn’t want to have to start from scratch of figuring out who the hell Mr. Jimmy was. They had spent months in surveillance and searches. They couldn’t be that far off the mark, could they? “Where did Dimitri say he saw him?”

  “The store, the house, the school.”

  “Damn it.”

  “I’ve moved him already.”

  “Out of state, I hope.”

  “Yes. It’s in the report, but Morgan, there’s something about this guy that doesn’t sit right with me.”

  Morgan stopped at that. She always listened to gut feelings, and she wanted to know what Dana had to say. She wanted to hear someone else’s opinion of it. “What do you mean?”

  “Why would he come back for some kid? There’s no reason for it, not himself. If he wanted another boy he certainly could find one. Why would he come back for Dimitri, who was nothing more than a toy to him and a runner? It’s not like Dimitri had a high status in the organization. I can see him sending someone to find him and either take him or kill him, but this? This is weird.”

  “You’re right.” Morgan made a few notes. “It doesn’t quite fit our profile, but it may help round it out some more.”

  Dana grunted her agreement. “He’s never come back for one of kids he lost before.”

  “That we know of, anyway.”

  “Right, but Dimitri…he—”

  “I know. He might not have been high in status, but his position was invaluable. How is he handling the transition?”

  “Not well.”

  Morgan rubbed her temple. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s shutting down, Morgan. I don’t know what I can do to help him anymore. He’s been transferred to another agent anyway, but he was so despondent when I took him.”

  “You took him?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t going to trust it with anyone else. I think he needs to go underground.”

  Morgan would hate to put him underground. It would make him shying away from anyone worse. He would see no one except his caregiver and the agent in charge for months if not years depending on how long trials took, and she had a feeling once they found Mr. Jimmy and finally arrested him that the trial would be years, if not longer with appeals he would no doubt file.

  “I’d hate to do that.”

  “I know. I do, too, but I don’t see any other way to keep him safe.”

  “We could figure out who this asshole is.”

  Dana sighed. “Yeah, that’d be a start, but I think he has an obsession with this kid, one that goes beyond just a cell.”

  “Perfect.” Morgan wrote down the word on her notepad right next to nightmares.

  While the giddiness ran deep in Morgan’s chest, the fear for Dimitri was just as equal to it. An obsession with him meant they might more readily find Mr. Jimmy, but it put the kid in far more danger than they had originally thought. She would have to report everything to Taylor as soon as she got off the phone, and she would try her best to head out to wherever Dimitri was and interview him herself, assuming Taylor would let her.

  “Keep him above ground for now. Let’s see what we can come up with, not just to keep him safe, but also to maybe lure this guy out.”

  “Morgan, I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”

  “I don’t either, but I’m tired of this case being at a standstill. We have to make a break sooner rather than later. It’s been two years already, and months since we had our last major break.”