Kent had ignored the phone vibrating in his pocket as he interviewed Bo Lawrence about his wife’s background. Whoever it was could wait until he was finished.
But then Rick, the front desk sergeant, stuck his head into the interview room. “Kent, Barbara’s on the phone. She says it’s an emergency.”
That never happened. Barbara understood that if she called and he didn’t answer, he was in a situation in which he couldn’t take the call. For her to call the police precinct and tell Rick it was an emergency . . . something had to be seriously wrong.
He excused himself, stepped out of the room, and asked Rick to get Bo a bottle of water or coffee. The man had shed quite a few tears since reality had sunk in, and was probably getting dehydrated and thirsty. If they kept him comfortable, he’d be more willing to talk.
He found a quiet place in the stairwell, pulled out his cell phone, and sat on the steps as he dialed Barbara’s number.
She answered quickly. “Kent?”
“Hey, babe. Sorry I haven’t been answering. I was working a case — ”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. “Someone planted a homemade bomb under Emily’s car — ”
He sprang to his feet. “What?”
She spilled out the story, her voice raspy with tears. He couldn’t stand the thought of her so distraught. “Kent, I don’t know what’s going on. She’s been staying out late and hanging out with AA friends — ”
“That doesn’t mean she’s relapsed, Barbara. She’s a college kid. They stay out late.”
“But this is crazy. It’s one of those drug-addict things, you know? Ridiculous, inexplicable things happening to her. I don’t know what to do.”
Kent glanced back toward the interview room. He supposed he could let the husband go and pick up with him again later. The man should probably look in on his kids, talk to his wife’s family . . .
“Look, I’m coming over. Tell the men who are there to wait for me. I want to see the scene, talk to the CSI.”
“Good. We have to find who did this before they really hurt her.”
“We will.” He pushed through the door back into the precinct room. “So she wasn’t burned or hurt in any way?”
“No. She’s just shaken up.”
“That’s a miracle,” he said. “God’s looking out for the kid. Just remember that. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He cut off the phone, went back to the interview room. Bo had already finished off his water, and sat with his face in his hands. “Bo, I’m gonna let you go now, but stay around the area in case I need to talk to you again. And if you think of anything else we should know, or if you hear anything that could be a lead on this case, call me at this number.” He handed Bo a card with his cell phone number on it.
Bo got up, moving slowly, as if walking through water. As if he didn’t know where to go, who to talk to, what to do.
“You should probably notify your wife’s family,” Kent said.
Bo nodded. “Yeah, I will.” The man just stood there, staring into space.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I . . . just don’t have my car here, so . . .”
“I’ll get one of our men to take you back to your car at the store. You can’t go into the house yet, though. They’re still working the scene.”
He rubbed his face, his mouth trembling. “Can I see her?”
They hadn’t yet moved the body from where she’d been found. “No, not yet, but we’ll have someone call you as soon you can.”
Bo nodded, staring vacantly, as if searching his mind for a starting point to tackling this nightmare. Kent made arrangements to get him to wherever he wanted to go, then hurried out to his own car and headed for Barbara’s house.