Shock Wave

move faster. This bomber is now turning out a bomb a day. Another thing: a witch hunt operates on fear and emotion and rumor. We have to have definitive proof before we can accuse somebody. We’re not going to indict somebody on somebody else’s say-so. We need to find explosives, blasting caps, bomb parts, and motive. We’re asking people where we should look. In a small city like this, where most people know most other people, we have hopes that we’ll pinpoint some good suspects.”
    They went on for a while, and Virgil outlined what he thought about the bomber, and the TV people finally went away, apparently satisfied. Back in Ahlquist’s office, the sheriff said, “You see? She never stopped jiggling.” And, he added, “You’re goldarned near as good on TV as I am.”
     
     
    VIRGIL GOT AHLQUIST to assign him an assistant, Dick Pruess, and between them, they began running the list of names through the National Crime Information Center. Lyle McLachlan, the leading candidate in the survey, had thirty NCIC returns, varying from resisting arrest without violence at the bottom end, to felony theft and aggravated assault at the high end. He was thirty-eight, and had spent fourteen years in prison.
    “Not him,” Pruess said. “Be nice if it was, but the guy can barely make a sandwich. He could never figure this out.”
    They had seven more hits among the twenty names they checked, fewer than Virgil expected, given that all those named were, in the mind of some sober citizen, capable of multiple murder.
    Ahlquist came by and looked at the list, and the hits, and said, “The problem I see with most of the hits is that they involve guys right at the bottom of things—they’ve hardly got a stake in the town, so why would they do something as weird as attack a PyeMart? If anything, these guys would want to take revenge on the town, not defend it.”
    Of the two people with direct ties to Butternut Tech, one came back clean, the other had a drunk driving conviction. The first one had served in the army, and Virgil called a BCA researcher and asked her to get in touch with the army and see if he’d had any training in explosives.
    They were still looking for returns when Davenport called and said, “Your press conference made all the news shows. You looked pretty straight, with that black-on-black coat and shirt.”
    “Pain in the ass,” Virgil said.
    “I’ve got a bet for you—and I’ll take either side,” Davenport said. “Do you think only one, or both, of the major papers will use the phrase ‘witch hunt’ in an editorial tomorrow?”
    “Both,” Virgil said.
    “Damnit, I was hoping you’d pick ‘one.’ ”
    “I can’t help it, Lucas. I’m doing the best I can,” Virgil said.
    “I know it, but everybody’s watching now. It’d be best if you wrapped this up in the next couple of days.”
    “Did Ruffe call the governor and ask him about the Constitution?”
    “Everybody called the governor,” Davenport said. “I think this is what us liberals call ‘a teaching moment.’ ”
     
     
    GOOD THUNDER CALLED: “I took down Pat Shepard this morning, early, because he had a summer school class. He freaked. He cried. You know what? This isn’t going to be any fun.”
    “It never is, when you go after people who think of themselves as honest, upright citizens,” Virgil said. “Because down in their heart, they feel the guilt.”
    “And because he’s going to lose both his wife and his job.”
    “Yeah, it is brutal,” Virgil said.
    “I’m waiting for you to do the ‘Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.’ ”
    “Be a long wait,” Virgil said. “Will he flip?”
    “Yeah, I think so. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as his wife suggested he’d be,” Good Thunder said. “In fact, I’m a little worried. I don’t want to find him at the end of a rope, or with his head in the oven.”
    “Where is he?” Virgil asked.
    “Last time I saw him, he was with his lawyer. I’ve told him that he’ll be arrested, but I haven’t arrested him yet. I’ve laid out the deal. They’re talking, and if he’s not crazy, he’ll go for it. We’re going to need the wire, and the monitoring gear.”
    “I’ll talk to Davenport,” Virgil said.
    “Boy, that survey thing . . . the shit really hit the fan, huh? Pardon my French.”

    VIRGIL AND GOOD THUNDER were talking about who they’d go after first, if Shepard cooperated, to see if they could triangulate on the mayor,