“Expect a phone company response within the hour.” Cassidy disconnected the call.

“Healy, when the list of names comes through from the phone company, bring it to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Within minutes Healy’s phone rang.

“Healy,” he answered. The cell phone company asked for his fax number. The fax machine spat out the student information. He delivered the fax to O’Brien.

“Thanks, Healy.” O’Brien glanced at the list. “Remind me to give you a raise,” his clenched teeth grasped the soggy cigar butt.

“Yes, sir, I’ll remind you tomorrow,” Healy chuckled as he left O’Brien’s office

O’Brien cross-referenced the list of texts and calls with the list of names from the cell phone company, and compared the result with the list of students from MacGowan’s class. He came up with twenty names. “Healy, get in here!”

Healy appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

“I need these twenty students brought in this afternoon or tomorrow. I want to interview each individual.”

“Yes, sir.” Healy took the list from O’Brien. “Do we issue warrants or suggest they volunteer to appear?”

“Let’s try the volunteer route first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll resort to warrants.”

“I’ll have the desk sergeant contact them.”

“Thanks, Healy. Remind me to send your mother flowers.”

“My mother is dead, sir,” Healy chuckled.

Despite tense situations, O’Brien kept his humor about him.

Ten of the twenty students came to the Gardaí station in the afternoon. The lads, nervous at being called to the police station, stood eager to share information.

O’Brien asked if they knew Moynihan and if they studied in his group. Of the ten, five of them answered yes to both questions.

All five confirmed Moynihan suspected MacGowan planned for the projects to overlap. All five confirmed Moynihan spoke about the connection. All five confirmed MacGowan may have a grand plan involving all individual student projects.

One student, Garrett Burke, appeared more nervous than the others.

“Mr. Burke, we’re not accusing you of anything. We need information.” O’Brien tried to soothe the lad, but his stature and natural gruffness did not help the situation.

“I-I-I’m sorry. I-I’m uneasy about Dr. MacGowan.” Burke studied his clasped hands, knuckles white from the tight grip.

“What about MacGowan?” O’Brien pressed.

“He reminds me of my father. All sweet in my mother's presence, but angry the second she leaves. Like my dad, Dr. MacGowan always simmers below the exploding point.”

“Why does your dad criticize you?”

“He wants me to work in the mines like him. He says I’m wasting time working with computers and attending school.”

“You stick to your schooling, lad. The world runs on computers.”

“Aye, sir,” Burke said.

“Has Dr. MacGowan done anything to any of the lads at school?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I only see him in class. He’s so driven about this project it’s almost scary. Mistakes are not tolerated.”

“Has he threatened anyone?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Burke, you are a huge help. It's best not to tell anyone what you shared with me, and there's no reason to alert anyone else to your suspicions. Come to me if you spot anything odd or unusual. And let me contact me if you feel threatened on campus. You can be my eyes and ears.”

“Yes, sir,” Burke said.

“You may go, and Burke? I’m proud of you. Best not to mention you talked with the police to your dad.” O’Brien figured a bit of boosting would help nervous lads like Burke be more forthcoming.

An expression of relief crossed Burke’s face. “Thank you, sir.” He stood and hurried away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tuesday morning early. “Healy,” O’Brien yelled, “I need the cell phone and landline records for Ailbe MacGowan and Declan Knowlan. I want to determine if either one contacted any of these students.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

A few minutes later, Healy appeared with the requested phone records.

“They’re not stupid enough to do anything connecting them to the students. At least not anything out of the ordinary,” O’Brien thumbed through the print-outs. “Obtain the call lists of their office phones.”

“Yes, sir.” Healy turned to leave O’Brien’s office.

“Remind me to buy you a box of cigars, Healy,” O’Brien shouted.

“I don’t smoke, sir,” Healy said from his office. They each chuckled.

A few minutes later, Healy appeared with the additional phone records and handed O’Brien the lists.

He flipped through them and handed them back to Healy. “Take these two office phone call lists and document the time and date they called each other,” O’Brien said. “At first glance, they communicate at the same hour every day. I may be grasping at straws, but if I find a break in their normal routine, I may have something to investigate.”

“Yes, sir.” Healy took the lists. “I’ll do this now.”

“Thanks. I’ll buy you two boxes of cigars.” They both ignored the comment.

O’Brien’s cell phone rang. The caller ID displayed James Pearson.

“Pearson,” O’Brien answered. “What’s up?”