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Chapter 1
Judy Deavers was still silently swearing as she parked her assigned Bureau car in her reserved slot in the parking garage at the Federal Building in Spokane. The pre-Memorial Day weekend traffic had been terrible! The drivers in this town must ingest large amounts of controlled substances for breakfast. It was the best explanation for the erratic manner in which they drove. As she processed through building security, she glanced at her watch and realized she was now ten minutes late. Fine example to be setting for the staff, she railed silently as she waited for the elevator. Pressed toward the back by the throng of people boarding the elevator, she tapped her foot in irritation as it stopped at every single floor before finally reaching the fifth. As the doors opened, the passengers could see the large shield on the wall surrounded by the words that still thrilled her even today: Federal Bureau of Investigation. She pushed her way through the people to exit the elevator before the doors could close.
She walked down the hallway toward her office. Even in sensible flat shoes on linoleum tile, her steps were nearly silent. The others always said she moved like a cat, and she was aware they thought she did it to sneak up on them. That thought always made her smile since she would never have to stoop that low. She had an unerring sense when someone was just marking time or going through the motions, and those slackers usually exposed themselves quickly. Having a woman as Special Agent in Charge had been unsettling to many of them.
Entering her office, she had no sooner sat down than the intercom buzzed. Her assistant's voice was far too chipper for this timeof morning, to her way of thinking anyway. "What do you need, Mike?" she asked.
"You have a call on line two; none other than the Commandant of the Washington State Police himself. He's very adamant about speaking with you personally."
"I wonder what he wants. Thanks, Mike." Pushing the blinking button on her telephone, she said, "This is Special Agent Judy Deavers. What can we do for the State Police so early in the morning, Commandant?"
"I think we've got a case that needs your involvement, Agent Deavers." These were words Judy Deavers knew cost the Commandant dearly to utter. The State Police tried to avoid federal involvement in their investigations whenever possible. For him to be calling this early in the morning with a request for FBI support could not be good.
The Commandant's normally affable personality was subdued as he said, "At approximately midnight last night, an isolated private dwelling up in Tumwater Canyon was destroyed by explosion and fire. When our crime scene investigation unit examined the site, they found residue of Semtex. They also found some kind of calling card at the scene." He paused. "It looks like we may have some kind of radical group."
Judy sat back in her chair. "Well, that's a hell of a way to start the day, Commandant. You got a contact number for me to liaise with the local authorities?"
"The crime scene is presently under the control of Captain Mike Holgrin, the area supervisor for the State Police." The Commandant gave her the captain's cellular telephone number. "Our CSI unit is still on scene and will remain there until your people arrive and take over."
"Thanks. Let me make sure I have this straight. A single-family dwelling located in Tumwater Canyon was destroyed by explosion, presently identified as being caused by Semtex. Whoever did it may have left a calling card, which is now being held as evidence by the State Police. Scene is under the supervision of Captain Mike Holgrin, who is reachable via cell phone at the number you provided." Her flat recitation of the facts masked the fact her mind was racing over what needed to be done next. Thanking the Commandant for his courtesy, she hung up the receiver and pressed her intercom button. "Mike, scramble the troops. I need everyone in the conference room in five minutes."
As she reached for the door handle, she caught sight of herself in the mirror mounted behind the door. Her slightly-less-than-shoulder length auburn hair would need a trim soon. It was starting to get a shade longer than she preferred and was taking too much time to style in the mornings. Her crisp white shirt gleamed beneath the stylish business suit she wore. No jewelry adorned her throat or fingers, since that might afford a suspect something to grab hold of during a struggle. Her slim build made her seem even taller than her five foot nine inches. At least she didn't wear high heels while working; no use being even taller! Cutting her reverie short, she opened the door and went to the conference room.
