“You could set him straight. Just read off all those commendations you’ve got on your office wall. Last time I was in Houston on a case I walked past your office.”

“I couldn’t do that. Sometimes I think trying to save me from a wicked life is the only thing that keeps the old guy alive.”

They pulled in front of a coffee shop. “Fill me in on your progress with the pipe bomber before my mind turns to mush. Millie wants to watch the Hallmark Channel every night. All the sweetness is killing me.”

Colby laughed. “I like the ‘fall in love over a weekend’ movies. Piper and I curl up on the couch and watch one or two a week. Of course, we’re usually naked before it ends, so, to me, I don’t really think of them as G-rated.”

Once the men took a corner table, Colby got down to business. “I’m not sure what’s going on. We’ve found four more pipe bombs. The guy started with rural mail boxes, but now he’s moved into town. The guy is getting better. If this keeps up someone is going to get hurt.”

“Do we need gear?”

“They are far more dangerous.” Hank whispered the obvious.

Colby nodded and continued, “No telling how many are out there that no one’s stumbled across. Two were found at vacant houses, another in one of those ‘tiny libraries’ people put in the front of their houses. And get this. One was at the house next to where you grew up. The only one that looked like it was made with any skill was that one.”

Hank’s brain began to try and find a pattern. “Someone who hates ‘little libraries’? Or empty houses? Or the whole town. Where was the pattern?”

“The day you pulled into town was the starting point. The sheriff asked me the same question. That is the pattern. Plus you are the only one the sheriff knows of who hates Clifton Bend. If he knew you worked with explosives, you’d be in jail right now.”

“The sheriff’s right,” Hank admitted as he stood and tossed his coffee in the trash. “It has to be me. I’m the bomber. And I must be really smart, ’cause I’m doing this while driving a huge old red Lincoln that everyone knows belongs to the preacher. How is it possible I haven’t been caught?”

Colby grinned and followed Hank out. “Is this some kid just playing with us, or someone trying to make a point? Should we circle around every location where a bomb was dropped one more time?”

“No use. Drop me here at the library.”

Hank’s cell beeped. He checked the ID and picked up. “Are you all right? Did you fall?” Both men climbed in the van as Hank switched the cell to speaker.