Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) by L.J. Sellers Page A

room.”
    “What was he wearing?”
    “All black, with a black ski mask.”
    It was the first time anyone had seen the potential eco-terrorist, and River was disappointed not to get a description “Did he notice you?” She had some concern for Bromwell’s safety.
    “Yeah. He tried to run past me and I grabbed him.” Bromwell gestured with a clenched hand. “I tried to cuff him with the plastic slip cuffs they issued me, but the prick hit me and ran off.” Bromwell paused.
    River sensed he wanted praise. “That was brave, but maybe not a good idea.”
    The night watchman’s face fell. “I didn’t go after him because I saw the bomb, and I wasn’t sure what to do.”
    “What did you do?”
    A slight pause. “I ran from the building.”
    His story didn’t sit right with her, and River returned to the idea that he had someone with him. But she needed physical details first. “Tell me about the guy in the ski mask. How tall was he?”
    “Big guy. Maybe six-two and muscular. He had forty pounds on me and I weigh two hundred.”
    Here we go
, River thought. The watchman wanted to make himself feel better about running away. “This is critical,” she said. “Without a description of his face or ethnicity, we need to know his exact size and shape.”
    Bromwell bristled. “I told you. He’s at least six-two and two-forty. And strong.”
    River studied the witness’ face. No bruises or red marks. Was he exaggerating? “Where did the attacker hit you?”
    He patted his chest. “Right here.”
    “So he ran out, and you looked at the bomb. Where was it?”
    “On the floor in the hallway.”
    “You recognized it?”
    “Oh yeah. It was obvious.”
    “What did it look like?”
    “A shiny metal thing attached to a stick of dynamite.”
    The metal cylinder had likely held a flammable liquid that burned when the dynamite exploded. Sweat began to roll down her chest into her bra. Time to switch gears. “Have you heard of the group Love the Earth?”
    Bromwell shrugged. “I think I’ve seen the name in the paper.”
    “Do you know any of its members?”
    “No. Why?”
    She let that one go. “What are your environmental politics?”
    He narrowed his eyes in irritation, but worry lines appeared on his forehead. “I don’t know what you mean. I recycle at home, but I’m not a nutcase about it.”
    “What else can you tell me? Any sign that the perp had been here before?”
    He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
    “Any threats? Letters, e-mails, or texts complaining about the company?”
    “We had some protestors last year, but that’s all I know about. The owner recently added the night watch shift, so he must have been worried.”
    “When did that shift start?”
    “Two weeks ago.”
    “Do you know the owner?”
    “I see him at the Christmas banquets. Nice guy.”
    “Okay, Jerry. We’ll wrap this up. But as soon as the building is cleared, I’m going in there to look around. And if youhad company tonight, I’ll find evidence of that. And tomorrow, I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.” She patted his arm. “Anything you want to tell me now?”
    A long pause. “No.”
    River stuffed the bomb evidence under her seat, they climbed out, and she locked the car.
    “Can I go home?”
    “Yes, but I’ll want to talk again tomorrow.”
    The rain had let up, and River felt strangely energized. This was the kind of case she loved. Tracking a perpetrator who kept hitting new targets and taking more risks until they caught him. It was usually a bank robber, but she would enjoy this challenge. She had worked a similar eco-terrorist case in Portland, which was why her new boss had assigned this one to her.
    River called the owner, Ted Rockman, left him an urgent message, then jogged back toward the building, ready to take a look inside. But first she had to examine the entry door and see just how secure it was.
    The man-sized door had an electronic lock, operated by a key code. Anyone