Grady stiffened. "Were you hurt?"

"I was in the back," Sophie said, patting his arm rea.s.suringly. "I wasn't in any danger. It was on the news. I can't believe you didn't hear."

"I've been focusing on this all day," Grady said.

"And what is this?"

"This is the closest rendering the sheriff's department can come up with for the device under Mandy's car."

"And what does it tell you?"

"It's pretty basic," Grady said. "It doesn't look like there was a timer."

"And that means that someone set it off with a remote," Sophie said. "That means they were watching, and just pushed the trigger because they knew she was walking away."

"How do you know that?"

"A couple of years ago, there was a guy planting bombs under the cars of area veterans," Sophie said. "It turned out to be a guy with post-traumatic shock. He'd done three tours in Afghanistan and was stop-gapped. He just kind of lost it."

"So, now you're an expert on bombs?"

"I found this guy through the VA who was a munitions expert," Sophie said. "He walked me through the process."

Grady leaned back, wrapping an arm around Sophie's shoulders and pulling her in closer so he could give her another kiss, this one lingering. "You never cease to amaze me."

"I'm a gift," Sophie agreed, smiling.

Grady rubbed his nose against hers, thinking. "I don't suppose you're still on good terms with this munitions expert, are you?"

"He's left the area," Sophie said. "I do have another idea, though."

Grady smiled. "You always do. What's the idea?"

"There's a woman named Jennifer Paget who runs the homeless shelter in Roseville," Sophie said.

"How does that help us?"

"That particular shelter is mostly filled with homeless veterans," Sophie said. "I think that might be a decent place for us to track down someone else who might know what we're looking at. I also think we should consider that whoever built the bomb probably had a military background."

Grady stilled. "What makes you say that?"

"Because making a bomb this sophisticated doesn't just happen," Sophie said. "Someone has to teach you. It may look simple to you, but this isn't something you can just slap together after watching a tutorial on the Internet."

Grady, bit the inside of his mouth, glancing up at the wall clock. "Do you think we can go now?"

"You're worried about Mandy?"

"I am," Grady said. "We haven't been able to determine that she was specifically targeted. It would be ... hard to believe that her car was picked at random. I mean, why pick her car?"

"It still could be random."

"I don't believe anything is random," Grady said. "If someone planted that bomb as a way to send a message, it would make sense that they would pick someone affluent. That was a party of movers and shakers. Mandy was only there because she's so tight with the judge."

"And if someone was targeting the affluent, why pick a Ford Focus to bomb," Sophie supplied. "You're right, it doesn't make any sense."

Grady squeezed her hand. "Let's go talk to the woman at the homeless shelter. The faster we go there and look into that angle, the faster we can come back here."

"And why is it important for you to get me back here?"

"I want to get you naked, sugar," Grady said. "I can't do that until we check this out."

"Let's go."

HOMELESS shelters are depressing under the best of circ.u.mstances. For someone like Grady, a man who had spent three years in the U.S. Army, seeing one dedicated to veterans was almost too much for him to bear.

The building itself was in a rundown area. It was four stories high, and surrounded by a variety of businesses that made Grady's skin crawl.

"So, who thought it was a good idea to put a homeless shelter in the same area as a s.e.x shop and a liquor store?"

Sophie shrugged. "The building was donated as a tax write-off," she said. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"I know but ... ."

Sophie reached over, lacing her fingers through his. "Do you want me to go in alone?"

Grady scorched her with a look. "You think I can't handle it?"

"I think it's going to be hard for you to take," Sophie said. "I've been here before. I know what to expect."

"I've seen homeless people before."

"This is different," Sophie replied. "A lot of these people, well, they have war wounds. You can see a lot of them."

"I've seen people with missing limbs before," Grady said. "I understand the psychology a.s.sociated with it."

"Well, a lot of these men have lost limbs, their sanity, and their homes," Sophie said. "They're ... sad."

Grady brought Sophie's hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her hand. "Let's do this together, sugar."

"Okay."

Sophie led Grady into the building, stopping by the front window to inform the man behind it who she was looking for. The wait gave Grady a chance to look around.

"They have a security door."

"You have to be buzzed in," Sophie said. "There's a curfew. They lock this place down at six and everyone is searched before they come inside. No weapons. No drugs. No liquor. No visitors beyond the door."

"So, they try to keep it clean?"

"It's not easy, but they try," Sophie said. "I think they do the best that they can."

Grady nodded mutely, turning as the door to the inner sanctum opened and a middle-aged blonde stepped outside. "Ms. Lane, it's so good to see you. I can't thank you enough for the story you wrote. The donations we received ... well, they were a G.o.dsend."

"I told you to call me Sophie," she said, stepping forward and shaking hands with the woman.

"Only if you call me Jen."

"Deal."

Jen transferred her attention to Grady, looking him up and down. Sophie made the introductions, and then explained why they were there. Jen listened to the entire story, frowning when appropriate, and then shifted back and forth uncomfortably.

"I understand what you're trying to do," Jen said. "I even applaud it. The man who did this needs to be stopped. I'm not sure how I can help you."

"Is there anyone here who you think could be a danger to others?" Sophie asked. "Anyone with a background in munitions or explosives?"

"A lot of the men who come here are ... damaged," Jen explained. "You basically get two kinds of people. The first group tries to pretend nothing happened and they don't want to talk about their experiences. The second group, well, the second group fixates on what they went through and that's all they want to talk about."

"In your experience, which is the more dangerous group?"

"Those who don't talk," Jen said. "You can pretty much tell when a talker is going to go over the edge. We have three full-time counselors here for just that reason."

Sophie slipped a strand of hair behind her ear, considering. "Can you tell when one of the non-talkers is going to go over the edge?"

Jen shrugged. "Sometimes. It's subjective, just like anything else. You have to understand, a lot of the men who come here are mentally ill. We try to keep them on their medication, and then get them back into the work force. Most of them will never get the lives they lost back, but we want to give them something to look forward to."

"It sounds like you're trying to do something important here," Grady said. "It also sounds like you're stymied."

"Stymied is a generous word," Jen said. "These are men who have given everything to protect their country. When they come back, when they have problems a.s.similating, then the government completely abandons them."

Grady swallowed hard. "I did a tour in the Army. I know about horror. I saw a lot of my friends go home in body bags. I saw a few more go home in pieces."

Jen nodded. "Seeing it there and seeing it here are completely different things."

"I get that," Grady said. "I ... I wish I'd known this place existed. I would have tried to help before."

"And what would you do to help?" Jen asked pointedly.

"Anything I can," Grady replied. "If you need money, I can donate money. My brothers and I run a security firm in Sterling Heights. We're all veterans. I think they'd like to help, too."

"Even the brother who saw his girlfriend blown across a parking lot?"

"Especially him," Grady said. "He wants to protect his girlfriend, but he'll feel strongly about this, too."

Sophie pulled a business card out of her pocket. "I understand you don't want us going in there and questioning people. If you could ask around ... just, anything you can come up with. Call me any time. This isn't for print. This is personal."

Jen took the card, holding it near her mouth as she thought. "I wouldn't usually do this ... ."

"What?" Grady asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"There is one man who ... has caused me some concern over the past few months," Jen said. "I want to stress that I don't believe he's capable of blowing up an innocent woman."

"But?" Grady prodded.

"We had to ban him from the shelter," Jen said.

"Why?"

"He, um, well, he has some impulse control problems," Jen said. "He was in close proximity to a mortar sh.e.l.l about eight years ago in Iraq. He's deaf in one ear, which creates communication problems. He's also missing two fingers on his left hand."

"Why are you suspicious of this individual?" Sophie asked.

"He's a talker," Jen said. "He kind of breaks the mold on the previous rule. It's just that ... I'm not sure I believe all of his stories."

"Can you be more specific?"

"He tells these graphic stories about burning Iraqi children alive and blowing up dignitaries' cars," Jen said. "The thing is, none of those things ever happened as far as we can tell. He's still obsessed with fire and explosives. That's one of the reasons we had to ban him. He kept setting fires in the garbage cans in the bathrooms.

"Still, we didn't have to ban him until he put a makeshift bomb into one of the toilets," Jen continued. "You can imagine the mess."

"What's his name?" Grady asked.

"Cole," Jen said. "Cole Gordon. He was in the Army."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Sophie asked.

"It's been almost three weeks," Jen said. "We ousted him right after the bomb incident."

Grady rolled his neck, the crack audible. "That would have been a few days before Mandy was hurt."

"Maybe it was a test," Sophie suggested.

"Maybe," Grady agreed. He turned back to Jen. "Do you have any idea where Cole would go?"

Jen shrugged. "I'm not going to lie, Mr. Hardy. I'm worried that you're going to take some form of revenge on this man without any evidence. I understand that what happened to your brother's girlfriend was terrible but we don't know that it was Cole."

"Ma'am, I have no intention of going after an innocent man," Grady said. "Going after a man who didn't try to kill Mandy does me no good. We're all in limbo until we find the right man. I won't hurt an innocent man."

"I can vouch for him," Sophie said. "I promise you, we're just trying to find the truth."

Jen nodded, sighing loudly. "Check the tent town in Mount Clemens."

Grady furrowed his brow. "The tent town?"

"There's a homeless tent village near the Clinton River, in the woods off North River Road," Jen said. "A lot of the veterans who can't follow the rules here end up there."

"In a tent town?" Grady was incensed. "What do they do in the winter?"

"They build fires."