“Did Coburn set up VanAllen?”
Hamilton chuckled. “If Coburn had wanted VanAllen dead, he wouldn’t have troubled himself to use a bomb.”
“Then what are you telling me, Mr. Hamilton?”
“Somebody besides Coburn and me knew about that meeting, and whoever it was wanted Mrs. Gillette dead. Somebody planted that car bomb expecting to get two birds with one stone, a cop’s widow and a local FBI agent. Somebody was made awfully nervous by that pairing, so they acted swiftly and lethally to prevent it.”
“ ‘Somebody.’ Any idea who?”
“Whoever is listening in on this conversation.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Like hell you don’t. Your department is a freaking sieve. So is the P.D., and I sadly suspect Tom’s office, too.” He paused to let the deputy dispute that. It was telling that he didn’t. Whether Crawford was dirty or not, he must not have seen the point in denying the
allegation. “I’m not telling you how to do your job, Deputy—”
“But?”
“But unless you want a higher body count than you’ve already got, double your efforts and manpower to find Mrs. Gillette and Coburn.”
“Is she with him voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Does Coburn work for you?”
Hamilton said nothing.
“Did Coburn, I don’t know, recruit her for some reason? That’s what it looks like to me. What are they on to that’s got people wanting them dead?”
Hamilton didn’t answer that one either.
The deputy sighed. Hamilton could imagine him running his fingers through his hair. If he had hair. “They’ve successfully stayed under the radar for three days, Mr. Hamilton. I don’t know what else I can do, especially since, as you say, other forces always seem to be several steps ahead of me. But if I get lucky and manage to flush them out, what then?”
Hamilton said tersely, “I’m the first person you call.”
Chapter 42
When Coburn pulled the car to a stop at the curb in front of Stan Gillette’s house, Honor said, “I envisioned us sneaking in like we did this afternoon.”
“I’m tired of dicking around. It’s time he and I had a face-to-face.”
As they moved up the front walkway, she looked at him nervously. “What are you going to do?”
“You ring the doorbell. I’ll take it from there.”
He could tell she was conflicted about what they had to do, but she resolutely stepped onto the porch and rang the doorbell. They heard it chiming inside the house. Coburn pressed his back to the wall adjacent to the door.
Honor saw him slip the pistol from his waistband, and that alarmed her. “What are you doing with that?”
“He may not welcome our company.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
“Not unless he forces me to.”
“He takes medication for high blood pressure.”