Kill Shot Read online

  “So he was big and strong,” Shane said. “Did you catch his hair color or any additional details to help us find him?”

  “I didn’t see anything else. Sorry.” She shifted her focus to Rick. “Just that he was built like Agent Cannon.”

  So the bad guy resembled him. Not surprising. If a witness had a choice between him or Shane to compare to their villain, they’d choose him. Rick got that. People told him often enough that he gave off a tough vibe, and Shane had a boy-next-door look. Okay, to be fair, Shane had a rugged presence, but his personality was warmer than Rick’s, and that made people find him less intimidating. Or she simply liked Shane’s personality more and wanted the suspect to look like Rick. Shoot, maybe she was even right and the killer actually did resemble him.

  “So tell us more about Ace,” he said to move them forward, even though he was supposed to be observing.

  She crossed her legs and settled back in her chair. “What do you want to know?”

  “He was former military, right?”

  “Sounds like you already know he was a marine.”

  Her nonanswer irritated Rick, but then she was right. Kaci’s preliminary report had told them about Griffin’s stint in the military, but they’d need his service record book to gain more details. “How did he wind up homeless?”

  “The same way most people end up homeless.”

  “I’m not asking about most people. Just Ace,” he said evenly, though he was starting to get annoyed with her vague responses.

  She eyed him for a moment. Maybe his questions aggravated her as much her lack of answers frustrated him. Or maybe she was thinking of a way to answer without answering again. The only reason he could imagine for either was that she had something to hide.

  She picked a speck of lint from her skirt, then looked up. “When Ace returned to civilian life, he worked as a security guard.”

  “Security guard?” Rick echoed. The smart bullets had been transported by a private security company. Could Griffin have worked for that company and, as Shane had speculated, been involved in the theft?

  “Ace’s mental health issues kept him from holding down a job,” she continued. “So he entered into a cycle of finding employment as a guard with different companies, then quickly losing the jobs.”

  “Do you have the names of the companies he worked for?” Shane asked.

  She shook her head.

  Rick struggled to contain his disbelief. “You don’t remember a single company’s name?”

  “He’d been unemployed for a long time and didn’t mention company names.”

  Kaci would likely find Griffin’s former employers when she performed her more detailed background investigation, but Rick made a mental note to talk to her about it.

  “Can you think of anyone who would want to kill Ace?” Shane asked.

  She shook her head. “As far as I know he didn’t have any current friends, and he wasn’t working, so he didn’t have any coworkers.”

  “Our reports say he didn’t have siblings, and his mother is still living,” Shane said. “We have no information on a father.”

  “His father took off when he was a child, and you’re right, he didn’t have siblings. His mother lives in Macon, where Ace grew up. In fact, she called me after she learned of his death. She wants to know how he died.”

  “Did you tell her anything?” Rick asked.

  “The detective told me not to.”

  Again with the nonanswer.

  “But did you share what you know about Ace’s death?” he asked, more insistently this time.

  “No, but I want to.”

  “We need you to keep everything you know to yourself for now.”

  “I don’t like leaving her in the dark.” She frowned.

  Rick crossed his arms. “Still, I have to insist.”

  “You’ll tell me when I can share with her?”

  Rick nodded. “Why didn’t Ace move in with his mother when homelessness was his only other option?”

  “He wanted to be independent, even if that meant not having a roof over his head.”

  “Do you think he could be involved in illegal dealings?”

  “Ace?”

  “Yes, Ace.” Rick pressed the wrinkles out of his shirt. He had to do something to keep from going off on her for the way she was making him work for every answer. “I did some reading on PTSD on our flight and saw that nearly a quarter of PTSD sufferers end up committing a crime. So it seems logical that Ace could be involved in crime.”

  “Your statistics are accurate, but Ace could barely keep his own life straight, let alone participate in something illegal without getting caught.”

  “Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try, right? Especially if he had a partner.”

  “He was capable of taking directions, so I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Was he trusting of others?”

  “For the most part.”

  “How did he feel about the military?” Rick asked. “Did he resent his service? Want revenge for his PTSD?”

  “Look.” She met Rick’s gaze, her chin jutting out. “I’ve been forthcoming so far because your questions were pretty generic. But you’re starting to get into information protected by doctor-patient privilege, and I can’t continue to comment.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Rick muttered under his breath as frustration took hold. Doctor-patient confidentiality extended fifty years beyond death, so she was well within her rights to withhold the information, even if Ace had been murdered and releasing his file could help solve the investigation.

  She turned the full force of her gaze on him. “I told you I want to help find Ace’s killer, and I meant it. I just have to be careful about what I say.”

  He looked for any sign that she might be lying or withholding information. He found none, but given the seriousness of the weapons theft, he couldn’t be too careful and had to push her. “If you really want to help us find the killer, you’ll answer all of our questions and more.”

  She sat up straighter, her shoulders firming into a hard line. She was a tough cookie, that was clear. During sniper school he’d figured out what made people tick. He knew how it felt to be truly tested. To dig to the deepest recesses of his being to achieve a goal. He’d also discovered that few people had what it took to make it through life’s most brutal tests. He and his Scout Sniper platoon had faced adversity during deployment. Faced mental and physical exhaustion each minute of the day. There he’d developed firsthand experience that gave him the skills to discover who these exceptional people were.

  Most of the time, he could tell if a person was legit or faking it, but he suspected his attraction to this woman was coloring his opinion. She might be all soft and curvy looking and he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts on the interview, but he couldn’t let that continue to impact his judgment.

  “I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “But I’ve said all I’m going to say. Doctor-patient confidentiality prohibits me from sharing that information without a court order.”

  Right. She played that card. Had he hit on something with blaming the military, or was she simply following proper protocol?

  “Ace is deceased, so you really aren’t doing him any good by not sharing,” he said. “Plus we’ll keep any information you share confidential.”

  “Sorry.”

  His frustration was turning to anger now, but he managed to contain it. Just barely. “Do you want to find his killer?”

  “Of course.”

  “Really?” He locked his gaze on her. “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re not a mind reader, are you? You have no idea how badly I want the killer caught. Or anything else I’m thinking.”

  He pushed off the wall and took his time tucking his shirt in at the waist to reclaim his composure before meeting her gaze head-on. “I’ll have that warrant in a few hours, and I’ll get the information anyway. There’s no point in making us jump through
hoops.”

  Her chin lifted higher. “It’s my job. I took an oath.”

  “To withhold information?” He kept his focus on her, hoping to keep up the pressure.

  She simply sat up straighter. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  He respected her for not backing down. Maybe he’d even like her if she wasn’t a suspect. But she was a suspect until he could prove otherwise. If his most intimidating stare didn’t move her, he’d get nowhere without the legal hoops she was demanding he jump through.

  “I’ll go request that warrant while you wait.” He let his gaze linger for a moment longer, hoping she’d capitulate so she could go home. When she didn’t move, he headed for the door.

  He felt her eyes on his back, but he wouldn’t turn to see what she was thinking. Outside he let out his anger in a whoosh of air. He’d almost let this woman get to him. Almost lost his cool. He’d had to work twice as hard as usual to keep things together.

  Not surprising. Childhood issues with his parents and other adults had made trusting people hard for him. But he had no reason to be mad at the doc. Distrustful. Frustrated, maybe, but mad? Nah. His team ran into physicians all the time who refused to share information. If the team had a valid need to know, he simply got a warrant. No biggie. Max would have the document within a few hours, and they’d be good to go.

  He’d simply let his unexpected interest in her unsettle him. He wouldn’t let that happen again. He didn’t want to be attracted to her. To anyone. But a suspect, of all people…ludicrous.

  Chapter 4

  Olivia gaped at Agent Cannon, or more technically at the doorway he’d just stormed through. He was a bully. A big old bully who had an insane need to take charge and get his way. It was there in his tone. In his gaze. Even in the way he looked and dressed. He’d pressed his navy blue polo shirt and khaki tactical pants to military precision, and he continually smoothed out wrinkles. Something she doubted he was conscious of doing. He wore his hair in a popular messy style, but he’d even arranged that to perfection.

  And when she didn’t cave and reveal privileged information, he’d blamed her and marched out. Crisp steps, controlled and measured. She’d wager any amount of money he was former military. All pressed, starched, and by the book. But there was more. A hint of a rebel that most people would miss. As a professional trained in reading people, she’d picked up on underlying emotions and hated to admit she found that side of him attractive.

  “I’m sorry.” A conciliatory expression crossed Agent Erwin’s face and melted a bit of her frustration. He seemed nice and not at all a bully like Agent Cannon.

  “Does he really expect me to sit here for as long as it takes to get a warrant?” she asked. “That could be hours.”

  “He’s talking to our team leader to get the ball rolling, and I’m sure he’ll be right back.” He offered a tight smile. “If Agent Cannon understood how his questioning upset you, I know he would offer his apology.”

  I just bet he would.

  “He’s lead on this investigation,” Agent Erwin continued. “Each moment of delay could be catastrophic, so he’s under a lot of pressure.”

  “How could Ace’s death lead to something catastrophic for anyone except Ace and the killer?”

  Agent Erwin’s eyes flashed wide for a moment before a blank expression took over. “That’s something I’m not allowed to share.”

  Olivia thought to argue, but just as she expected the agents to respect her doctor-patient privilege, she had to understand his inability to share about the investigation. She sat for a moment wondering what to do next. The silence with Agent Erwin wasn’t uncomfortable, but she also didn’t feel like making small talk, so she leaned her head back against the wall and tried to put Agent Cannon out of her mind as she waited. She took several cleansing breaths, but the way he was hulking over her, pushing her with questions she couldn’t answer, kept running through her brain.

  Wait! Did he think she was involved in Ace’s death? Now that would be preposterous. Still, she could see this guy believing the worst in people.

  He came back into the truck and sat on the edge of the small workstation to swing his leg as if he couldn’t wait to get moving. His attitude should intimidate her, she supposed, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She even had to admit she found him intriguing. What made him so focused? Something in his childhood? Had he been bullied?

  Sure, she was sounding like a psychologist here, but that’s what she did for a living. Besides, analyzing him helped keep her mind off the muscled thigh stretching the seams of his pants. Helped her ignore his handsome face with a wide jaw and a hint of dimples in his cheeks.

  Dimples, really? On him. Mr. Grouch. Couldn’t possibly be, could it?

  “You mentioned talking with Ace’s mother.” He bent closer, his eyes connecting with hers.

  Her heart somersaulted at his nearness, and she moved back, though there really was nowhere to go.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I need you to keep all information about this investigation to yourself, and not only with Ace’s mother.” He paused, and his gaze dug deeper. “Is that clear?”

  She nodded, but his over-the-top reaction combined with Agent Erwin’s comments suggested there was more to this investigation than just finding Ace’s killer. But what, and did it involve her? She opened her mouth to ask, but he got up and stepped away, his powerful strides carrying him to the back door.

  He paused at the exit and turned to look back at her. “You can go now, but keep your cell phone on and remain in the area in case I have additional questions.”

  With that he was out of the truck in a few steps.

  Fine. Run away before she could ask any of her own questions. If she saw this over-the-top agent again, she’d do her best to forget about her attraction and wouldn’t let him run roughshod over her again.

  * * *

  Rick banished his crazy attraction to Dr. Dobbs from his mind so he could give his entire focus to calculating the bullet trajectory. On the way to retrieve his equipment, he stopped by Brynn, who squatted near a large bloodstain. She had her field kit next to her and was unpacking supplies. He got his first look at the blood spatter—rusty splotches sprayed over the sidewalk. A large bloodstain covered the cracked concrete, a river of blood trailing away to the gutter, declaring the exact spot where Griffin had crumpled.

  Rick pulled up scene photos on his phone and ran through them. “Griffin dropped parallel to the building and was heading east when the bullet struck. That’s consistent with Dr. Dobbs’s statement. She said he was heading for the Salvation Army up the road.”

  Brynn shone a light over the area. “Spatter’s in agreement, too.”

  She frowned and grabbed a spray bottle labeled LUMINOL. A highly sensitive blood reagent, luminol detected latent bloodstain evidence. If blood was present, the luminol would reveal a strong, steady chemiluminescent reaction. In this case blood was obviously present, but Brynn would use the luminol to detect the tiniest of splotches to help determine the bullet trajectory.

  “Someone kill the lights,” she called out.

  “Got it,” Shane yelled, and jogged to the control box. The klieg lights snapped off, and only a distant streetlight illuminated the area.

  Dr. Dobbs had found her client lying in this spot, but where had she stood? Had she been close enough to Griffin to see how much blood he’d lost? Perhaps not, given the way the single streetlight left the area shadowed. Could she have been telling the truth about not seeing the man’s face, or had Rick’s interest in her left him wanting her to be telling the truth, and consequently missing the obvious?

  One way to find out. “Do me a favor, Brynn. Put on the hood from your suit and stand up.”

  She didn’t question but complied. He backed away until he could no longer see the details of her face, but could still see her field kit sitting about where Griffin’s shoes would have been. He moved toward the corner, where he could keep the kit in focus and yet the shadows k
ept him from clearly seeing Brynn’s face. So the doc’s story could very well be true.

  “Thanks.” He shared what Dr. Dobbs had claimed.

  “With this low light coupled with fear she must have been experiencing, I can see it happening,” she said. “You get a good feeling from the doctor?”

  Good, yeah, but it was all personal. “Not sure what to make of her yet.”

  Brynn arched a brow and watched him for a long moment. “That’s unlike you. Maybe you need to talk to her again.”

  That was the last thing he needed as a man, but as an investigator, after they processed the scene, he would make a list of additional questions and get in touch with her. “I need to know exactly where she was standing when she saw the man with the knife. Only way to do that is to have her come back down here and retrace her steps.”

  “Roger that.” Brynn’s attention shifted back to her work, and she sprayed the luminol. Misty drops of blood glowed blue on the sidewalk and revealed the spatter pattern. “Back spatter’s consistent with a high-force impact from a large-caliber bullet and a long-distance shot.” Brynn got out her camera.

  Rick trusted Brynn’s assessment, but while she photographed the area, he bent to look at the minimal spatter that the bullet tearing into Griffin’s body had created. The low volume and small drops did indeed help confirm that the shot had been taken from a distance.

  Brynn moved to the forward spatter on the far side of the stain, which was elongated and more elliptical in shape. In fact, a single satellite had broken off to form a second stain looking much like an exclamation point. All these points told them the shot had come from a low angle of impact, meaning a long-distance shot.

  “I’ll go ahead and measure these stains and get an angle for you, so after you calculate the trajectory we can compare notes.” Brynn rested her arm on her knees. “Once you map out the trajectory then it’s a matter of boots on the ground to find the shooter’s exact location, right?”