Conard County Revenge. Rachel Lee

it. Then we can go look over the site. Have you checked if anyone around here has received a tank of anhydrous ammonia for fertilizer?”

      “Running it now,” Gage said, “but I haven’t heard of any, at least not in a while. We’re not intensive farming country for the most part. We rely mostly on ranching, sheep and cattle, and I hear there’s plenty of manure compost.”

      “Bags of dry fertilizer can be used, too,” she remarked. “It’s just harder. Thank you, gentlemen.” She rose. “Point me to someplace where I can eat and I’ll be back here in a half hour or so.”

      “I’ll show you,” Wayne said, rising. “Maude takes a little getting used to.”

      Darcy wondered what in the world he meant by that. They hadn’t exited the front office, however, before a tall, well-built man with blond hair and blue eyes arrived. A beardless Viking. He looked at Wayne. “This is her?”

      Darcy halted, surprised.

      “Yeah,” said Wayne. “Darcy Eccles, ATF, meet Alex Jansen, our shop teacher. Also former FBI.”

      Oh, boy, Darcy thought as she shook his hand. Former FBI? Helpful maybe. Trouble maybe. Hunk, definitely.

      “Yeah, the explosion was in my part of the building,” Alex said. “I’m naturally...involved.”

      Yep. Great. She forced a smile. “I was on my way to lunch.”

      “I’ll join you,” Alex said without hesitation.

      Double great.

      “It’s just a half block from here,” Wayne said as they stepped out onto the quiet street. “Afterward, we’ll meet my wife out at the school. She’s our arson investigator.”

      How interesting, Darcy thought. In her world, such a relationship would have resulted in reassignment. Out here, it probably never made any difference. The chief and his wife most likely shared the same goals and interests.

      But in a criminal investigation? Well, that depended, didn’t it? She almost sighed.

      Alex spoke. “Maude, the diner’s owner, is a law unto herself, Agent. So are her daughters. Just ignore the rudeness. The food and coffee more than make up for it.”

      Well, there didn’t seem to be any other place to eat along the street. She was sure she could handle a little rudeness. Must be a little beyond average, though, if both of these guys thought she had needed a warning.

      The diner showed its age. Colored duct tape had sealed cracks on some of the red benches and chairs, but aged or not, the interior appeared spotless. Alex guided them to a table as far from other patrons as they could get, which wasn’t far. The restaurant wasn’t huge, and a number of people were scattered around in booths, all of them engaged in conversations that stopped the minute they saw Darcy.

      Hers was a new face, something interesting around here. She smothered another sigh and joined Wayne and Alex at the table. Almost instantly menus were emphatically slapped down in front of them. Conversation resumed around them.

      Darcy looked up into the face of the gorgon, sour and unfriendly. “Coffee?” the woman demanded.

      Alex spoke. “You want a latte, Darcy? Or just regular leaded?”

      A latte? Why should that surprise her, but it did. It certainly wasn’t on the menu. “Latte, please.”

      The men chose black coffee, then turned their attention to the menus. Darcy scanned hers with a vague surprise that it didn’t feel sticky. Cleanliness around here evidently went past the floor and tables. It wasn’t a long menu, but all the offerings, except the salads, appeared to be rib-sticking food. No one with a cholesterol problem ought to eat here, she decided, allowing herself another moment of amusement.

      Why not be amused? She was in the middle of nowhere on an assignment she didn’t want, and she felt like Alice slipping down the rabbit hole. This was so far from her usual environment she had to be careful she didn’t offend needlessly with an absentminded comment.

      She hadn’t eaten since last night, so she passed on the salads and asked about the steak sandwich.

      “It’s the reason most people love to eat here,” Wayne told her. “But it’s huge. You might need a doggie bag.”

      “That’s fine. I need to eat tonight, too.”

      After the woman, whose name tag identified her as Maude, took their orders, Darcy looked at her two companions. “So your wife is the arson investigator?” she asked Wayne.

      He nodded. “She was an investigator for insurance companies until we married a couple of years ago. Now she’s with the department as both an investigator and a firefighter.”

      “Cool,” Darcy answered, though was wasn’t sure she thought so. Then Alex. “You used to be FBI?”

      “Behavioral Science Unit.”

      Well, that could be useful, she decided. Her latte arrived in a tall foam cup and she wrapped her hands around it. Her fingers felt chilled and she hoped enough heat would escape to warm them.

      “And you?” Alex asked bluntly.

      “Ten years with ATF as an investigator. Right across the spectrum.”

      All right, then, with creds established among them they fell silent as their sandwiches were slammed in front of them. No one seemed surprised by the loud clatter.

      Darcy hadn’t expected to be working alone—that would have been ridiculous—but she wasn’t sure how Alex fitted in unless someone thought he could profile a perp. She knew better than that. The idea that anyone could pull a suspect out of their hats was for the movies. A so-called profiler could use evidence to piece together a behavioral picture of a perp, but there was no magic to it. Just skill and a lot of ugliness, from what she understood.

      She finished her first bite of sandwich and forgave Maude for all current and future rudeness. When their eating began to slow, she focused on Alex. “What brought you to be a shop teacher?”

      “I enjoy working with my hands.” He paused. “And frankly, I’d had enough of the underbelly of humanity. It’s peaceful here, and I enjoy my students. Creating something is a great source of healing.”

      His forthrightness surprised her. She sat looking at him—well, admiring his appearance if she was to be honest—but astonished by how much he had just revealed with a few brief words. So the BSU had left him emotionally scarred in some way. She understood the job could be really dreadful, but she hadn’t ever pondered how it might personally affect those who did it. No reason to. Her own job could get horrible enough at times.

      She looked from Alex to Wayne. “This bombing must be...shocking to the town.” And to them, though she didn’t say it.

      “It’s not something that happens here,” Wayne said. “Although most everything else has at one time or another. It’s not like evil never touches us. But this is a new one.”

      She looked down at her sandwich. “I hope it was an accident. But...”

      Wayne nodded. “I did some research on ANFO bombs. They don’t happen by accident. Usually.”

      “Not unless we’re talking about a fertilizer plant. So nobody uses anhydrous ammonia around here?”

      “Not that I know of,” Wayne replied. “Alex?”

      “Me neither. But I don’t need to tell you how hard it would be to know for sure. Once those tanks are delivered, all identifying information is removed so no one should know it’s there. Basic safety precaution. Heck, even when it gets to construction sites where it’s in heavy use, they take all identifiers off it. It should be recorded somewhere safe but...” He paused and shook his head, smiling faintly. “I’m preaching to the choir. I’m sure you know better than I do. You guys write a lot of the rules.”

      “Interstate