"It's obvious, isn't it? You think I'm the Bomber. It's typical. If there's a problem, it must be the guy in the blue suit. Let's blame the blimp! I mean, how come nobody suspects that it might be the guy who is really responsible for it all? You need to find that guy, whoever he is."
May was not going to allow herself to be sidetracked.
"Give me your movements over the past forty-eight hours, please. And I want detail."
Humphrey's shoulders slumped.
"What do you want from me? Do you want me to have a camera following me around, so that you can find out what I was doing second by second?"
"No," said May flatly. "I want you to tell us."
He sighed.
"I work from seven a.m. to six p.m. Only because it takes me nearly an hour to get into this suit, I’m at work just after six. I get an hour for lunch and two other ten minute breaks during the day. So that's where I was during that time, the past two days. Then the day before yesterday, I had a parole check-in after work. You can confirm that if you like. It finished at seven, and I then went to the bar down the road from the police department, and you can confirm that, too. I was working, I wasn’t setting any bombs. I’m reformed, like I said."
Being at work during those hours did preclude sending threats from the forest cabin. May acknowledged that, but wanted to make sure that he didn’t have any incriminating evidence on his phone.
"Open your phone for me," May said.
They'd seized it and put it in a tray as soon as they'd gotten him to the police department. It had then been out of battery and had been recharging on the side of the room.
Now, it was charged again.
Scowling at her, Humphrey opened the phone. He handed it to her reluctantly.
"Look, I know you'll think I've been a bit adventurous in my online searches,” he said. “It wasn't me, I swear. It was a friend of mine, asking me to do research. That's what some of those site visits were for. I, myself, definitely don't have a thing for spanking, or for latex. As far as latex goes, I can take it or leave it after hours. I mean, I have to wear it all day at work! Why would I be obsessed by it?"
May ignored him. She was only interested in his online roaming in as far as it related to bomb sites. But she was interested to see if he had any stored videos, or else if he’d sent any threats from this phone to the police department.
He didn't and he hadn’t. She looked very carefully in all the areas where they might be, but found nothing obvious.
And his online check-ins had been activated, she saw. He had been where he said he was.
May felt as if the case was collapsing around her. This suspect had seemed so strong. So guilty. And yet now, it was all fizzling out, like - like an unexploded bomb. Discouraged, she put the phone down and left the room. And, as she did, her phone rang.
It was Kerry on the line.
Eyes widening, May grabbed it. Had some evidence been found? But Kerry sounded highly annoyed and rather stressed.
"Hey, sis. Bad news."
"What?" May asked, her heart accelerating.
"There's just been another bomb blast. I'm going to text you the coordinates right now. I suggest you and Owen get there, as soon as possible. Because this is now a major disaster."
"I'm on my way," May said.
Her hands were cold and her mouth felt dry. The worst imaginable had happened. The killer was out there, ahead of them, and picking off more victims.
This new blast confirmed without a doubt that Humphrey Andrews was not the man they needed, and that the real killer was still out there. All they had done so far was waste precious time on interviewing the wrong suspect.
She felt a sense of desperation as she rushed back to the interview room, to tell Owen about the latest disaster, and that they needed to race to the scene.