Page 186 of Somebody's Watching Me
“Here.” Dr. Cohen pointed to the space between Sinclair’s discharge in the spring of 2019 and the first batch of bombings that summer. “Something happened here. A break in the psyche? I’ve yet to meet a soldier like Sinclair who didn’t come home jaded, but this first bombing in Nevada was sloppy. Not like his previous work, or his later domestic strikes. Three empty government buildings blown so carelessly. There’s no finesse to it.”
“That no finesse bombing killed nine people,” Klausen reminded him. “Including children.”
Dr. Cohen shook his head, brows knitted. “The other bombings are orderly and show a clear snapshot of how Sinclair operates. But this first one doesn’t fit the profile at all.”
Rowan was familiar with Dr. Cohen’s work like everyone else on the planet. His sister Caitlin was a huge fan, and endlessly watched the movies and documentaries made about the man. Yet, when William Cohen and his wife arrived, Rowan couldn’t help but feel a tiny twinge of disappointment. In person, Liam’s dad came off as a regular guy. An older version of his son who you would feel comfortable having a few beers with.
But the second introductions were over, Dr. Cohen immediately switched gears, and became the man most would expect. Rowan hated to bethat guybut working side by side with him in a dead room felt pretty awesome. He couldn’t wait to rub it in his sister’s face.
“What makes you think this theorized psychotic break isn’t from the discharge?” Bernie asked. “Dissociating after a lengthy high-risk career is difficult, especially for men. I think you two can attest to that.”
Liam and his father smirked at the comment. They were obviously a close family, with the men coming off extremely protective of Bernie Cohen. Rowan understood completely. If one of the women in his family had been attacked and nearly killed by a homicidal manic, he would likely be just as vigilant.
“Sinclair has been blowing things up since he was twenty. There’s no reason, career dissociation or not, that the first civilian strike should be so lacking,” Dr. Cohen countered. “Something upset him. Something deeply personal. Perhaps it was politically motivated, or perhaps not, but that first one will always bug me.”
“The victim’s backgrounds show no connection to Sinclair,” Klausen said. “But it seems nothing ever does.”
“Toby’s arrest.” Ben stopped pacing to come to the front of the room, and Rowan switched the information to scroll through the timeline of 2019. “Toby’s arrest happened in March. Sinclair is discharged a month later, and the bombings begin that summer.”
“Then the preliminaries for the trial start right after the new year. People were joining Zanmi at an insane rate,” Liam said. “But there was zero activity from Sinclair during the trial.”
“Those first months were horrible,” Annabeth said with a shiver. “And then the lockdowns made it worse. So many people with nothing to do and watching that streaming series they made about Toby and us.”
“They never could get good actors to play you or me,” Abe mumbled. “I’m still bitter about that.”
“But even then, Sinclair is not involved.” Liam moved around to stand with Jamison at the screen. “Not during Zanmi’s peak membership draw, nor when they infiltrated Fairweather, and other places connected to Toby. It’s only when this breeding plan is created that Sinclair enters the scene.”
Rowan shook his head. They had circled the information repeatedly, never landing. “And he’s suddenly accepted into a main leadership role.”
“Is BOP still claiming they have no record of Sinclair or any of his people visiting Toby?” Liam asked Klausen.
“Not that they’ve found, although since the U.S. Marshals office is handling Toby’s transfer to ADX,” Klausen tipped his nose upward in distaste, “there’s now a delay in receiving information.”
“Holden’s uncle is with the Marshals,” Liam replied. “I’ll have him make a call.”
Dr. Cohen dropped into the folding chair next to his wife. “But this isn’t telling me thewhy. Why is Sinclair involved?”
The clock was ticking, and Rowan didn’t want to rush them, but time was not on their side. “Izzy,” he said quietly so as not to disrupt the ongoing conversation. “Are you ready?”
“I’m ready when you are.” She continued to work on her computer, doing her part in preparing for the onslaught of data about to hit. “They’re knocking, but they can’t come in.”
Annabeth leaned forward to whisper. “Ready for what?”
Rowan winked at her. “Get ready to be impressed, sweetheart. Your man is about to fuck shit up.”
Jamison’s raised voice drew their attention. “No, I don’t know Michael, nor have I ever met him.” She threw her hands up over whatever Dr. Cohen was saying. “Liam already interrogated me!”
“You weren’t rude, were you?” Bernie asked her son. “Please tell me you didn’t let your emotions get the better of you.”
“He was very rude, Bernie,” Jamison replied before Liam could. “And it was glorious, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know Michael.”
“You can’t blame us for thinking that way.” Dr. Cohen held up a paper with Emily’s kidnapping information on it. “Claudia and Emily aren’t receiving phone calls. It’s just you. Sinclair seems to be obsessed with you.”
“Don’t forget Evie,” Izzy spoke up. “He doesn’t call, but as yesterday proved, Sinclair gets extremely agitated when we block access to her.”
Abe had rolled over to Izzy, flipping through the photos featuring Sinclair’s work. “Y’all don’t piss him off too much, or he’ll start blowing stuff up. Like maybe one of the Fairweather offices.” He turned a photoaround, showing a blast site in Omaha. “It looks like he could handle something of that size.”
They had already thought of that. Ben gave the order earlier for all staff to resort to pandemic measures and work from home, claiming the company was conducting a Fire and Community Risk assessment at every Fairweather location. Any mandatory meetings were to be conducted off-site or from home.
