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“Yes, sir.”
Dante slowly opened the passenger door and examined the bomb. “It’s well made. I need a bomb kit.”
“I’ll get one for you,” I said.
Sergeant Bergman advised, “I left the door open.”
“Yes, sir.” I sprinted into the training center, typed in the pass code for the supply closet and took a bomb kit.
Julie dragged the hysterical woman into the center and put her in a holding cell. “She tried to make a run for it.”
“Bad move. My partner has won a bunch of medals for the fifty-yard dash.”
Julie put on her menacing cop face. “Which house did you take the package from?”
“You don’t understand. We needed the money.”
“Which house?” Julie repeated sternly.
“It’s a couple of miles from here. The mailbox looks like a boat engine.”
Damn. That house belonged to Chuck Hennessey, a trigger-happy retired postal worker. “I’ll let the sarge know.”
Julie nodded. “Your mom and dad are out there too and he’s still a bit snappy.”
“Oh yay.” I raced back to the Camry and handed Dante the bomb kit. “They took the box from Chuck Hennessey’s porch.”
Dad grimaced. “Chuck spent four years as an explosive expert in the Army.”
“He’s also in the early stages of dementia,” Mom added.
Sergeant Bergman rubbed his face. “Hennessey also has enough guns to start a small war.”
I waved wildly at Nate as he pulled up in his big red GMC dually.
He jumped out and hurried over to us. “What’s up?”
“Get your bomb gear,” Dad ordered.
Nate took one look at the timer “Yes, sir.”
“Gemma, I want you to do a welfare check on Chuck Hennessey. Make sure he’s okay and see what bomb making materials he has on hand,” Sergeant Bergman directed.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going with her. Chuck likes me,” Mom said.
Dad nodded. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” Mom retorted.
Dad snorted.
“You armed, Mom?”
Mom shot me a look. “When am I not?”
“I wasn’t sure since you were getting it on with Dad.”