At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  On the bad side, that suspect was a law enforcement insider who had actually worked the crime scene. From a legal perspective, it was nothing short of a nightmare. If this case ever went to trial, a defense attorney would have no trouble calling the ballistics evidence into question. And if the ballistics evidence was in question, what about all the other evidence that had been handled by the Delphi Center? A skilled attorney could tear apart the entire case.

  “Damn.” Sean rubbed his jaw. “I’m thinking Rachel’s going to have a shit fit when she hears this.” He glanced at Brooke. “ ’Scuse my language.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “Hope she doesn’t shoot the messenger.”

  “Is that you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I still have some things to finish. I haven’t had a chance to empty the magazine yet to see if there’s anything of interest on the remaining bullets.”

  “Any chance you can finish up this afternoon and send over your report?”

  “That depends. Any chance you guys can stop pestering me for updates?”

  He smiled. “Message received. I’ll get out of your way.”

  • • •

  Scott knew right away when Dani arrived, but this time he was cheating. He’d told her to meet him here.

  He stared through the scope at the target downrange. He was prone in the dirt with the sun overhead, which was just how he liked it—except for the wind, which had picked up to a brisk fifteen miles per hour. Scott got to his feet and dusted off his hands.

  Dani strode down the row of men sprawled on the ground with their rifles. The steady pop of gunfire all but ceased as guys paused what they were doing to watch her. It wasn’t just because she was the only woman out here. It was the confident way she carried herself, like she didn’t give a shit what people thought.

  Her eyes sparked with temper as she reached Scott’s station. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

  He reached down and picked up his rifle. “You sound like your brother.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the mention of Drew. “I should arrest your ass right now.”

  Scott lifted an eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”

  “Lying to investigators. Wasting my valuable time in the middle of a murder case.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “By omission, yes, you did.” She folded her arms over her breasts. “Why didn’t you tell us you had an alibi?”

  “The ATM footage.”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  He smiled. “You’re a good detective. I figured you’d find it.”

  Her cheeks flushed even pinker. She stepped closer and glared up at him. “Two people are dead, Scott. And my team and I are spending time on you.”

  A few stations down, Travis lay on the ground adjusting his scope. His hands stilled and he looked at Dani. Travis didn’t like that the police had put Scott on their suspect list.

  “I know you enjoy jerking people around,” she was saying, “but this isn’t funny.”

  “You know what else isn’t funny?” Scott eased closer and lowered his voice. “You believing I shot an unarmed woman in the back.”

  She gazed up at him. “I never believed that.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  For a long moment they just stood there, locked in a staring contest. She blinked first and turned away.

  Scott grabbed his binoculars and hooked them around his neck. She swept her gaze over the rifle range, where several dozen men were taking aim at distant metal plates. She looked back at Scott and her attention settled on the rifle in his hand.

  Her brow furrowed. “What is that?”

  The scope, she meant, not the gun. It was the same .300 Win Mag he always used.

  “A Leupold scope. It’s new.” Which was an understatement. It wasn’t even on the market yet, but Scott did some freelance work for various manufacturers, testing out products.

  Dani stared at his gun, and he recognized the look in her eyes.

  “Want to try it?”

  She glanced up, and he could see the debate going on inside her head. Should she maintain her pissed-offedness or cave in to temptation?

  Temptation won out, which for some crazy reason turned him on.

  Dani pulled off her jacket and tossed it on a wooden cabinet that served as a table for car keys and boxes of ammo. Scott gave her his gun, and she examined the scope for a moment before setting the weapon carefully on the ground. He handed her some ear protectors. She arranged them on her head, then stretched out prone next to his rifle.

  Scott stretched out beside her as she loaded a cartridge and gazed out at the target. She snugged the stock into her shoulder and peered through the scope. “Damn.”

  “I know.”

  Scott gazed out at the range as Dani settled in. The brisk northerly wind was tinged with sagebrush, reminding him of sniper school in the deserts of California. His training had been hot as hell, triple digits most days. But even with the scorching temperatures, it was worlds better than Afghanistan, where he’d go for hours at a time on a rooftop or an outcropping of rock, completely motionless and soaked with sweat. He wouldn’t move an inch to eat or sleep or even take a piss as he looked out over a road or a valley, the invisible guardian angel to dozens of young troops. Protection was a waiting game, and even some highly skilled marksmen weren’t cut out for it.

  Beside him Dani took a deep breath.

  “Wind’s about fifteen miles per hour,” he murmured.

  She pulled up and glanced at the range flag, then settled back with the gun. She didn’t look at him, and all that emotion from earlier was gone now. She’d turned it off like a switch. It was a talent she had. Her nostrils flared slightly as she inhaled a breath. Exhaled.

  And then she was serene.

  Scott watched her for a moment, then lifted the binocs and waited. A full minute ticked by.

  She pulled the trigger and a puff of dirt kicked up in front of the target six football fields away. Dani muttered a curse.

  “Low and to the left.” He eased the binoculars down and looked at her. “Relax.”

  She huffed out a breath of frustration. The distance was nothing special, not for her. But the wind made it harder. In sniper school he’d been trained to make intricate calculations in his head to adjust for wind and elevation. Dani used the Kentucky windage method, which she’d learned years ago at her family’s deer lease, which basically meant she did it by instinct. Of course, she practiced, too. Shooting wasn’t a skill you could let slide.

  Dani chambered another round. She closed her eyes briefly and adjusted the stock against her shoulder. She took a deep breath.

  Scott loved to watch her get in the zone. He loved her utter concentration, her intense focus. In some of his darker, needier moments he fantasized about her looking at him that way.

  He lifted the binocs and waited.

  Another small breath, barely perceptible.

  Crack.

  “Nailed it,” Scott said.

  “Really?”

  The pride in her voice gave him a warm buzz. Shooting-wise, there weren’t a lot of SEALs who could touch him. Dani was the only civilian who even came close.

  “Man,” Travis said. “Sweet shot, Dani. It’s windy as hell today, too.”

  She cleared the gun and sat up. “It’s a nice scope.” She looked at Scott as he stood up. “Will you keep it?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  He pulled her to her feet, then picked up his rifle.

  “I’ve got to get going,” Travis said, picking up his gun case and looking at Scott. “You want to come with me or—”

  “I’ll get a ride with Dani.” Scott looked at her and caught her startled expression.

  “Suit yourself.” Travis nodded at her. “Nice shooting.”

  They watched him leave. Then they were standing alone together, surrounded by the popcornlike sound of gunfire.

  She was thinking
about the case again. Scott could see it in her eyes. He’d never seen her so worried about a case before, and he knew his involvement was making it harder for her.

  “You know, you should have told me,” she said. “I wasted half a day looking for an alibi for you.”

  He didn’t say anything as he slung his gun over his shoulder and grabbed his phone off the wooden cabinet. He checked the screen. No messages, which shouldn’t have surprised him, given what had happened this morning.

  “You’re not out of the woods yet. That Glock isn’t in the database, but your prints are all over it.” Dani paused and waited expectantly. “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “You have an alibi, so we know you didn’t pull the trigger. But my lieutenant thinks you bought the gun for whoever did.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about you?”

  She looked away. “I don’t know what the hell to think anymore.”

  Scott stepped closer, and the confusion on her face put a knot in his chest. He didn’t like that she didn’t fully trust him.

  “So, what is this, anyway?” She crossed her arms. “Why’d you call me out here on a workday?”

  “Not a workday for me.”

  Her gaze narrowed, and he watched her figure it out.

  “You mean—”

  “I’m on leave. Curtis informed me this morning.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until we sort this mess out.”

  “But . . . your alibi. The ATM footage—”

  “Doesn’t mean shit if I knowingly provided the murder weapon. It’s like you said—I’m not out of the woods yet.” He looked away and tried to swallow down his bitterness.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He looked down at her. The genuine concern in her voice got to him, but he tried not to let it show.

  “Come here,” he said, stepping away from her.

  “What?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  • • •

  Scott led her into the building, which had corrugated-metal walls and a concrete floor. Dani stood just inside the doorway for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. A muted pop-pop came from the back, and Dani looked past the reception counter to the indoor pistol range. The soundproof glass didn’t quite block out the noise.

  The guy behind the counter looked bulked up on steroids and was covered with tattoos. His gaze was on Dani as they approached the counter.

  “We’re here to see Joe,” Scott said.

  A man poked his head out of an office behind the counter. “Come on back.”

  Scott led Dani into the office. The walls were lined with deer and elk heads that stared sightlessly at one another across the room.

  “Joe Camden,” Scott said, “Detective Daniele Harper with SMPD.”

  Dani shook the man’s hand. She pegged him for military, probably navy, judging from the faded anchor on his forearm.

  “Dax Harper’s sister,” Camden said.

  She forced a smile. “That’s me.”

  He looked her over skeptically, obviously failing to see the resemblance between Dani and her six-foot-four, 250-pound brother.

  “How is he?” Camden asked. “Haven’t seen him around lately.”

  “He’s with Austin PD now.”

  Camden nodded and turned to Scott. “I pulled up everything for the weekend in question. It’s all yours. I’m headed out for lunch, so make yourselves at home.”

  Dani watched in disbelief as he walked out of his office, leaving them alone with his desk and his file cabinets and his laptop, for crying out loud.

  She shot a look at Scott, who had already taken over the guy’s chair. “He’s just going to leave us alone with his computer? What the hell?”

  “Sit down.”

  Dani glanced around. A couple of metal folding chairs were against the wall, and she dragged one of them behind the desk beside Scott. He was scrolling through video footage on Camden’s laptop.

  “Scott, what is this about?”

  He ignored her, intent on the screen as he fast-forwarded through the footage. Dani recognized a bird’s-eye view of the reception counter just outside the door.

  A steady stream of customers flowed through the doors with dizzying speed. The vast majority were men. Most wore baseball caps. They zipped up to the counter, showed ID, paid the attendant, then zipped out the door or back to the pistol range.

  Scott tapped the mouse and the footage froze. “Here.”

  Dani leaned closer. The picture was blurry, but she’d recognize the wide shoulders and military-straight posture anywhere. Scott’s face was hidden beneath the brim of a navy-blue Astros cap.

  “Ten twenty-seven A.M.,” Scott said. “I’m usually here Saturdays by ten thirty.”

  “What—”

  “Just watch.” He tapped the mouse, and the video started moving again.

  Dani scooted her chair closer, so close she could see the side of Scott’s jaw twitching. She focused on the computer screen as several more people zipped up to the counter.

  Suddenly the film halted. “There,” he said.

  A large man stood at the counter. He wore a camo jacket and tan gloves. The brim of a hunting cap obscured his face.

  “That’s him.”

  Dani looked at Scott, and the intensity in his gaze sent a chill down her spine.

  “Who?”

  “I was in here one Saturday using the outdoor pistol range. This guy was shooting right beside me. There was a man on the other side of him—retired army, I think—and this guy was chatting him up, trying to get his opinion about a pistol he wanted to buy from his brother-in-law.”

  Dani’s breath whooshed out. “A Glock nine.”

  Scott tapped at the man’s image on the screen. “He asked me to weigh in, tell him what I thought of the gun.”

  “So you handled it.”

  “I looked it over, burned through a mag. Gave him my professional opinion.”

  “Which was?”

  “It was fine for a Glock, if that’s what you’re into.”

  Dani stared at the screen, a tight knot of dread forming in her gut. She looked at the date stamp.

  “February fourth.” She leaned her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands.

  “It was pretty cold that day,” Scott said. “He was wearing gloves, and I didn’t think much about it at the time. He was clumsy with the gun, not much of a shot. But I’m thinking now that was an act.”

  She didn’t look up. February fourth. Five and a half months before the murders. Two and a half months before Tessa Lovett moved here.

  She felt dizzy, sick. A dull ache was forming in the back of her head and seemed to be oozing up her skull.

  “Dani, look at me.”

  She lifted her gaze. “Do you realize what this means? This isn’t some . . . some . . . crime of passion. This is . . .” She looked helplessly at the screen. “I don’t know what this is!”

  “I do. This is me being framed for murder.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “What is Black’s connection to the victims?” Sean asked, leaning back in his chair. He laced his hands behind his head and stared at the whiteboard where everything they knew so far had been mapped out.

  “He doesn’t have one,” Dani replied.

  “How do you know?”

  “He swears he doesn’t know either of them,” she said. “Never laid eyes on them until he saw their bodies at the crime scene.”

  Sean looked at Ric, and Dani felt a stab of annoyance. “Are you suggesting he’s lying?” she asked.

  Sean shrugged. “People lie to us all the time. Why would Scott Black be any different?”

  She took a deep breath and tried to tamp down her temper. Sean was needling her, had been since the beginning of the case. He’d picked up on her personal connection to their prime suspect, and he wasn’t going to let it go. And he shouldn’t. Sean could be a pain sometimes, but he was a good detective, a
nd he was right that they had to look at every suspect without bias.

  “Ric, what do you think?” she asked.

  He was standing beside the whiteboard, arms folded over his chest as he studied the crime-scene photos.

  “Ric?”

  “Why would they try to frame him?” He looked at Dani. “Assuming your theory’s right and this is a setup.”

  Her theory was right, but she didn’t want to argue that point right now.

  “Question is, why Scott Black?” Ric asked.

  “I don’t know.” She hated that she understood so little about this case, and she was the lead investigator. It made her feel incompetent. “Maybe it’s as simple as his job.”

  “How do you mean?” Sean asked.

  “I mean he’s a ballistics expert, very well-known in his field. Plus he’s ex-military.”

  Sean’s gaze narrowed. “So?”

  “So, he’s a regular at this firing range, goes there every Saturday morning at ten thirty. He owns plenty of guns and handles them frequently. People hit him up for advice all the time about shooting and weapons. Even the equipment manufacturers ask him to test their products for them.”

  “Your point is?”

  “My point is he handles firearms constantly, on the job and off. Some five-minute interaction with a random stranger who wanted advice on buying a gun wasn’t going to stand out.” She waited for them to digest that idea. “Also, he works at the Delphi Center, where we routinely send our evidence in major cases, cases we’re not equipped to handle here. If someone can undermine the integrity of the lab’s chief firearms expert, that undermines the integrity of the whole lab. Basically, all our physical evidence becomes worthless if Scott is a suspect.”

  Silence stretched out as Dani’s words sank in.

  Ric turned to the whiteboard. “The timing’s unusual.”

  Unusual? That was putting it mildly. More than any other element of the case, the timing was eating away at Dani like battery acid. Her stomach roiled as she looked at the timeline drawn on the board. As of today, their timeline of relevant events had been extended from four days to more than five months.

  February fourth. Someone had been plotting this crime since February fourth, months before Tessa Lovett even moved to town.