Warning Signs

CHAPTER 37

Lauren waited until we were in bed to ask me who I thought had killed Naomi Bigg and severely injured Marin. Her question came after I filled her in about my conversation with Sam.

I'd been thinking about that exact question-who had set off the bomb?-all day long, of course. Prior to the moment when Adrienne informed me that Paul Bigg had been dead for six years, I'd been assuming that it was Paul who had placed the bomb that had killed his mother and maimed his sister. I figured that he'd somehow managed to slip the device into Naomi's Vuitton bag during their confrontation in the parking lot outside her office.

I said, "Before my visit to that ranch today I would've thought it was Paul. After I met Ella Ramp, I would've guessed that it could've been either Ramp or Paul."

"But it wasn't Paul." Lauren spoke gently, wary perhaps of the unpredictability of the reaction of someone with closed head trauma. "We know that. Why do you think Naomi did that? Why did she keep Paul alive the way she did?"

"I don't know. I'm not convinced that Naomi actually lied-not in the sense that she was trying to fool me by creating a grown-up version of her son. I think Naomi was just inviting me into her delusions. Maybe she'd split Marin in two and given half her daughter's life to her son in order to keep him alive. I'm not sure. But we know that Ramp is real and that he's connected to Marin in some way that's not clear.

"I am convinced that before Naomi came over to my office, she had just spoken with somebody in her office parking lot."

"Ramp?"

"Yes, has to be."

"And you think he placed the bomb then, right?"

"She carried this big Vuitton bag around with her all the time. It always looked like it weighed a ton. I think he met with her at her office and managed to get the device into her bag."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe Ramp wanted to kill her because he found out she was talking to me about her fears about the wouldn't-it-be-cool games. She'd called me and implied that she was about to do just that. So Ramp met her at her office, and he placed the bomb. The alternative is that Naomi was carrying the thing around on her own. I don't see that."

"Maybe the person who put the bomb in there was trying to kill both Naomi and Marin," Lauren suggested.

"If Marin recovers, maybe we'll know the answer to that. She was terrified that her mother was in danger. She'd come to my office to warn Naomi about something. Marin was frantic, hysterical. She yelled at her mother not to turn off her car. It makes me think that she expected that the car was wired with an explosive."

She asked, "Did Sam say how the bomb was set off?"

"No, he didn't say. Hopefully the police can figure that out from examining the debris. The one they found in Nora's garage had a radio control. They blew it apart with that thing, that-"

"Disruptor. The bomb squad calls it a disruptor. And it will be ATF and CBI doing the figuring, not the police." Lauren gazed at me warily, watching my reaction. I think she was still unconvinced that the condition of my brain would permit me to recognize either the acronym of the Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Administration, the federal agency responsible for investigating bombings, or that of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation.

"I know what the letters stand for," I said.

"I heard from Elliot that the ATF is mobilizing a Special Response Team. That means that they're taking this seriously. A forensic chemist deploys as part of the team, so we should know something soon about the explosive residue. I've been thinking, from the way the bomb went off outside your office the fuse had to be connected to either a timer or a radio signal. Do you see it that way?"

I'd considered the options, of course. "That, or some kind of motion switch. She'd just thrown the bag over her shoulder when the explosion happened. Aren't there switches that respond to that kind of thing?"

"I'm sure there are. But it seems like a risky way to set off a bomb to me, don't you think?"

She was right, of course. I shuddered at the thought of the alternative. "If it was a radio switch, whoever set it off had to be close to Naomi. Close enough to see what she was doing, right?"

Lauren said, "Yes."

We both grew quiet as we digested the image of the bomber witnessing the carnage. Finally, I said, "Sam said every cop in the state is looking for Ramp."

She allowed my words to dissipate like smoke and began caressing my neck. The taut muscles that stretched up from my back barely yielded to her touch. She said, "Alan?"

"Mmmm?"

"Did you think Grace and I were in danger?"

"I was never really sure. Naomi hinted at things, but she was never really clear about what she knew. I tried to make decisions… as though you were at some risk."

"I don't get it. What do you mean? If you thought we were in danger, why didn't you tell me what was going on? Why didn't you go to the police?"

There was no mistaking her words. They were an accusation. She was asking how I could put my family at risk.

I made sure she was looking at me. "Like I said, I was reading between the lines. And Naomi warned me that if I told anybody about her concerns, she'd stop talking to me, and then I would have never known whether you were really at risk or not. And I wouldn't have known what the two boys were planning or how to protect you. Or anybody else."

"Even after they found the bomb at Royal's house?"

"While we were at dinner the other night with Adrienne, I had a cop friend of Sam's bring her K-9 over here to check for explosives. She had the dog search the house and your car."

"You did?"

"Yes. She didn't find anything, obviously."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I didn't want to answer that question, but I did. "One, privilege, which, given what happened today, is lame, I admit. But yesterday, it made some sense. Two, I thought you'd insist on going to the police, and then Naomi would stop talking to me. Three, your health. Although I was afraid, I really didn't know that you were at risk and I didn't want to add stress to your life by alarming you. I've been worried about an exacerbation of your MS."

She digested my words. "And now?"

"I'm still worried about an exacerbation. But now Naomi's dead. She won't be giving me any more clues. The police are all we have."

Silence settled on the room like a comforter snapped over a bed.

I broke the silence. "I didn't have any good choices, Lauren. I did what I thought was best. I thought I was protecting us."

"I know," she said.

"Maybe I blew it. Maybe I made the wrong call," I said.

"Somebody's dead," she said. The words were her way of agreeing that perhaps I had made the wrong call.

"Yes. But I'm still not convinced that things would have been better if I had opened my mouth." I didn't know what else to say. "What exactly would you have wanted me to do, Lauren?"

"I'm not sure. I'll think about it, okay?"

For some reason I thought of Lucy Tanner just then. I was eager to change the subject anyway, so I asked, "Did you and Cozy hear from Lucy today?"

"You mean about Susan?"

"Yes. How she feels about all the news coverage about… Susan being her mother."

"Cozy got a message this morning. Lucy said she was planning to spend the day in Denver-I suspected to try to avoid the media-and she was going to get back in touch with him this evening. The last time I spoke with him was a couple of hours ago, and he hadn't heard from her again.

"Before the bomb went off, Alan, I was thinking of calling Susan. Just to see how she was. This has to be terrible for her, too-all the stress. But the day sort of got away from me, you know?"

"Yes," I said. "I know."

The phone beside the bed rang. For the third time that night, Sam Purdy was calling.