“Probably a dud,” the ballistics officer told Patrick while they watched his men remove the unexploded shell from the ruins of the workshop. “The Confeds don’t have the same kind of manufacturing quality we have. Less than half their ammunition does what it’s supposed to do, but you were smart to call us. You never know.”
“I appreciate your boys getting it out of here.” On the other hand, he’d rather deal with this situation than an irate woman. Machines and devices were predictable in what they could do. Women, hardly so.
Patrick didn’t envy Chad. It seemed Claire’s mind was a ticking bomb that would explode when they least expected it. And then Patrick would have to put Chad back together all over again. He only wished he’d insisted further on looking at the engine chamber on Chad’s ne
