Chapters (25)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Tor Books by Mercedes Lackey
- Praise
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
The total was four dead—two of them, the ones who had actually been on the bulldozer, were hardly more than assorted body parts—and a dozen injured. He rubbed his temple anxiously, trying to figure out if these would be workman’s comp cases or not—if the police proved sabotage, did that let him off the hook?
On the other hand, if he fought the cases, the local media might pick up the story. Bleeding-heart liberals. They could make him look very bad. Better not.
“Mr. Calligan?” the detective said, as if he had asked Rod a question.
“What?” Rod said automatically. “I’m sorry, I was kind of preoccupied. What did you say?”
“I asked you if you thought there was any reason why someone would try to sabotage your operation here.” The detective’s face was bland, but Rod had seen the Forensics and Explosives people swarming over the wreck of the bulldozer, and he was fairly certain he had also seen them carrying something off.
The Tulsa Police Department, for all their internal troubles and the incompetence of some of their patrol officers, was no half-baked and slipshod operation when it came to forensics. They had the use of some very sophisticated lab facilities. Rod had no intention of underestimating them.
“My foreman called some time before the explosion,” he said, carefully. “It was on his cellular phone, so I’m sure you can find out exactly when that was. He said that the crew had uncovered some kind of Indian remains, bones or something, and that the Indians on the crew were rather upset about it and refused to go back to work.”
“But that was only a few minutes before the explosion,” the detective replied, dubiously. “There wouldn’t have been any time for anyone to get a bomb in place.”
“Perhaps not,” Rod replied, watching the detective’s expression very carefully, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve had trouble with Indians on my crew here. They—” he paused, and selected his words very carefully. “They have what I would call a ‘flexible’ idea about time and work-schedules, and I am very precise man. I don’t tolerate unnecessary overtime or goofing off on the job.”