“Are you certain?”

“DNA databases are pretty accurate.”

“Does he have a criminal background?” Somehow that wouldn’t surprise her.

“Nothing serious, as far as I can tell. We made the connection through the military DNA database.”

“So he’s a vet.”

“Yes. What do you know about him?”

“Very little.” She relayed the few pieces of information Meg had shared with her.

“Have you met him?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“What did you think?”

“I hate to pass judgment on someone I’ve only seen twice, at work-related gatherings.”

“I hear you. But you seem to have excellent instincts. I’m after impressions, not facts.”

She played with her straw. “We didn’t talk long. He was cool. Abrupt. I got the feeling he didn’t want to be at the events. He was also short with Meg, which I found offensive.” Eve explained the connection between her and the administrative assistant. “Those meetings, and a few comments from Meg, gave me the impression he’s selfish and thinks the world should revolve around him.”

“Any idea why he’d target you?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think he’s crazy about Meg working at the station, but I can’t believe anyone would go to such extremes for something like that.” She exhaled. “This is going to devastate Meg. I know you have a DNA match—but are you sure he’s the one who’s been doing all this?”

“My gut says yes—but I can’t definitely prove it . . . yet. The hair is circumstantial evidence. However, it seems too much of a stretch that it would just happen to be beside your car on the night the tires were slashed. On the other hand, if he has an alibi for that evening, we’re sunk.”

“Have you questioned him yet?”

“No. I’ve been getting a court order to access his cell records and digging into his background first. I also wanted to get your read on him.”

Eve rested her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her palm. “Much as I want this to be over, I hate for him to be your man—for Meg’s sake. And while I’m not discounting your instincts, I suspect he’ll have an alibi for Saturday night. Meg says they stick close on weekends. Plus, on the day the fake bomb was left, he was probably at work.”

“We don’t know when the package was put on your porch. He could have slipped away from his job over his lunch hour.”

“True—but it feels like a stretch. I can’t imagine anyone would take that kind of risk because he’s mad about his wife’s job.”

“Depends how controlling he is. From what you’ve told me, he wants Meg at his beck and call. If your radio program folds—or you quit—the job goes away.”

Eve grimaced. “That’s sick.”