“In my office. At home.I was doing what I always did on the days I didn’t teach. What I’d been doing every free day for the past five months: sifting through every piece of information I could find on the case. Every document. Every sliver of evidence.Looking for some way I could tie the bus blast to Dominic Cavello.If anyone saw my study, my disheveled desk, they’d probably think they’d stepped into the lair of some obsessive, pathological nutcase. Good God, I had photos taped everywhere. The b...last site. The van. The juror bus. Thick binders of FBI reports on the explosive device stacked high. Interviews with people on the street who might’ve seen the two men in work clothes running away.More than once I thought I had caught a break. Like when the stolen New Jersey plates led back to some horse trainer in Freehold who had links to the Lucchese crime family. But that turned out to be coincidence. None of it led anywhere. None of it directly tied to Dominic Cavello or his people.I was sipping my morning coffee, having to admit that my mind was drifting back to Andie DeGrasse, when the phone rang.“Pellisante,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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