Proving Grounds: A London Carter Novel (London Carter Mystery Series Book 2)

by BJ Bourg

  I sank to the ground and leaned against a tree of my own, and then radioed for Norm to meet us in his boat.

  “It’s over,” Patrick said, his voice barely over a whisper. “We’ll never catch him now. He’ll disappear and won’t resurface for a year or so, and it’ll just start all over again. I’m always two steps behind him.”

  I only nodded, wondering what Dawn had meant when she said the killer was one of ours. What did she know? And how did she know it?

  CHAPTER 40

  When Patrick and I made it back to the camp with Norm, I went straight to the dock where Ray and Jerry were slumped on the pier beside a black body bag. Their eyes were bloodshot and it was clear they’d been crying. I dropped to my knees beside the bag and put my hand on Dean’s chest.

  “What the hell happened, Ray?”

  Ray rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his coverall and shook his head. “I don’t know. He said he saw the killer—had him in his crosshairs. I asked him where he was, but he didn’t answer me. Instead, he let out a weird noise and lifted his head. Before I could tell him to get his head back down, he…he was gone.” Ray stopped and rubbed a tear from the side of his face, fighting hard to keep his voice from trembling. “I looked over at him and tried to stop the bleeding, but it…it was no use. When I looked back through my scope I couldn’t see anything. Everything was blurry.”

  I nodded my understanding and put a hand on his shoulder. My thoughts drifted to Dean’s son and daughter. I knew firsthand how difficult it was for children to lose their parents at a young age. Life as they knew it was forever changed—forever destroyed. Roger might push through to the other side in one piece, considering he was heading for the military, but who would look after Lily? She hadn’t even graduated high school yet. She didn’t have a job, her mother was missing in action, and her dreams of attending college were now hanging in the balance. I gritted my teeth. If I had any say-so, she would be well cared for.

  The steady drum of helicopter blades and the roaring of outboard motors broke me from my thoughts. I turned to see four boats squeezing through the Cut, and they were being escorted by two helicopters. One was Ben’s and the other displayed a large FBI logo.

  Two of the boats were ours and the others bore FBI logos identical to the one on the helicopter, and they were all crowded. I stood and moved toward the end of the dock, where they were securing the boats to the row of cleats. Sheriff Chiasson was in one of the boats and he was surrounded by at least eight members of our SWAT team. He was the first to disembark.

  “Damn, London, this is horrible…just horrible.” His face was pale and his voice shaky. “I gathered up the men and came as soon as I could.”

  I gave him the rundown of what happened. While I spoke, the special agent in charge of the FBI’s field office in the city walked up and listened intently. When I was done, he turned to Sheriff Chiasson. “My team is ready to assist in any way we can.” He pursed his lips. “Obviously, our main concern is confirming the status of our men in the field. I want to inform their families as soon as possible and I want to be in on the hunt for their killer.”

  Sheriff Chiasson nodded and shot a thumb to the second boat, where several of our detectives were unloading crime scene gear. “You can send a team with my detectives while we set up a command post inside this camp.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dawn descending the steps of Wellman’s camp. I felt a need to rush over and hug her, but I didn’t. I turned away from the sheriff and waited for her to reach me, but Melvin got to her first. I couldn’t hear everything that was said between them, but I heard him ask if she knew where Sally was, and she said no. He mentioned they’d called her out, but she hadn’t answered her phone. I was actually relieved that she hadn’t, because I certainly didn’t feel like dealing with any drama today.

  As soon as Dawn broke from Melvin, she approached me and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of earshot of everyone else. I noticed Patrick eyeing us as we walked off. Before she had a chance to say anything, I told her how brave she’d been earlier when she saved Leroy’s life.

  “Just doing my job,” she said simply.

  “How’s he doing, by the way? He must be freaking out.”

  “He’s fine—thinks it was all a joke. The boy has no idea how close he came to dying today.”

  I thought back to that moment and how desperate and helpless I felt watching Dawn expose herself to the sniper. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t get shot.”

  “Yeah, that would’ve definitely ruined my day.”

  I grinned and then asked her what she’d meant earlier.

  “The ballistics lab was able to determine that both of our projectiles were fired from the same rifle.” She took a deep breath and glanced toward the group of officers and agents milling around on the dock. “We got an IBIS hit on one of the projectiles…it was fired from the same rifle you recovered from Brandon Berger four years ago.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Are you positive?”

  “An analyst has to confirm the findings, but I’ve never had a false positive IBIS hit.” She searched my eyes. “You seem skeptical.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, then Dean committed suicide.”

  It was Dawn’s turn to scrunch her brow. “How is that possible?”

  “You tell me. Brandon had Dean’s rifle, and I assigned it back to Dean when the hearing was over.”

  Dawn turned toward Dean’s body bag. “Is that the same rifle he was using today?”

  “No, those rifles were decommissioned when we got the Accuracy Internationals. We kept the others as backup weapons, because there was nothing wrong with them.”

  “What if someone else got their hands on it?”

  “He’d never let anyone touch his rifle…” My voice trailed off as I remembered what Ray had said about Dean lifting his head up. I’d only seen him hesitate and lift his head once before taking a shot. What does it mean? My thoughts swirled around in my head and I suddenly remembered my unwritten sniper rule. I felt sick to my stomach, dizzy. “Holy shit!”

  “What’s going on?” Dawn asked.

  “I know who killed him. I know who’s been doing this.”

  “Who?”

  “We’ve got to go—and go now!” I rushed to where the sheriff was standing with the SWAT guys and detectives, and grabbed his arm. “I know who did this and I’m going after him.”

  “Who? Where are you going?”

  His mouth slid open wider and wider as I explained. “Okay, okay, who are you taking with you?”

  “Norm, Dawn, Jerry, Ray, and Patrick.”

  “Who in the hell is Patrick?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  CHAPTER 41

  Two hours later…

  I stood outside my truck and adjusted the focus on my binoculars, scanning the front of the house.

  “Anything?” Dawn asked from inside the truck.

  “Everything seems quiet.” I lowered the binos and keyed up my police radio. “Jerry, are y’all in place?”

  “Ten-four. We’ve got every window in the front of the house covered. You’re good to go.”

  “Okay, we’re going in.” I dropped the radio and stepped into the driver’s seat. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

  Nodding, Dawn slipped off her seatbelt and put her hand on her pistol. I took a deep breath before turning onto the long and winding driveway and cruised to the back of the house. I stopped beside the house and we dismounted. I looked toward the carport where the boat shed was located.

  “Wait here,” I said.

  Keeping my eyes trained on the side windows of the house, I hurried toward the carport and stopped just outside the shed. The door was closed, but unlocked. I eased it open and slipped inside, glancing around the dark enclosure. Other than a flatboat squatting on a boat trailer, it was empty. I made my way to the stern side and squatted near the outboard motor, feeling for the propeller. I grunted when I felt a patch of seaweed still clinging to the bla
des…it was wet.

  I hurried back to the door and peeked outside before stepping into the daylight. Taking long strides and keeping my eyes on the back of the house, I returned to where Dawn was waiting.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “There’s seaweed on the propeller and it’s still wet.”

  She nodded. “This is it.”

  I radioed Jerry and asked if there had been any movement.

  “All is quiet.”

  I gave the thumbs up and we walked to the front door. It was solid wood and stained dark brown. I didn’t see a peephole.

  I stood on one side of the door and Dawn stood on the other. Our hands were inches from our pistols, not knowing what to expect. With my left hand, I banged loudly on the door and held my breath. Nothing. I waited about thirty seconds, but still nothing happened. I leaned forward and knocked again, this time harder.

  Dawn brushed at a fly that was buzzing between us. I felt sweat building on my temples. I glanced at Dawn. She shrugged. I leaned forward to knock again, but the knob suddenly turned. I nearly jerked my pistol out of my holster, but recovered quickly when the door opened and Roger stood there, wearing nothing but shorts. He was drying his wet hair with a towel and he looked surprised to see us.

  “Hey, Mr. London, how are you?”

  “I’m good, Roger.”

  He looked over his shoulder into the house, and then turned back to face me. “How’s it going?”

  “Where’s Lily?” I asked.

  “School. She doesn’t get home until after three.”

  “Can we come in?”

  He scowled and looked past us, scanning the driveway. “Where’s my dad?”

  I hesitated for a minute, then feigned surprise. “Oh, you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Where’ve you been, son?”

  Roger stopped drying his hair and let the towel dangle at his side. “I’ve been here—at home. I just woke up. Why? What’s going on? Where’s my dad?”

  “Are you sure you’ve been here at home?” I pointed past him toward the back of the house. “What if I told you there was wet seaweed on your boat’s propeller? That would be weird, right?”

  Roger shrugged. “How would I know about wet seaweed if I was inside sleeping, Mr. London?”

  He was cool, and I appreciated that. “Can we come inside and talk?”

  “Sure.” He stepped back to allow us through, but I waved for him to lead the way. He did, and we followed him toward the back of the house and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out a can of cola. “Want something to drink?”

  Dawn and I both declined, and then the three of us sat at the table. Roger sat at the head of the table facing the kitchen window and Dawn and I flanked him. I waited for him to take a sip of his drink.

  “Roger, where were you last night?”

  He placed the Coke down on the table. “I was home all night. You can ask Lily.”

  “What time did you leave this morning?”

  “Like I already told you, Mr. London, I was home all day. I never left.”

  “Are you saying you weren’t out on Devil’s Lake today?”

  “No, sir—I wasn’t on the lake.”

  “Where’s your dad’s old rifle?”

  “How would I know? He doesn’t let me touch his guns. You’d have to ask him.”

  “I know he let you shoot it.” I leaned my forearms on the table. “And I know you took that rifle to the island Thursday and killed a good man named Norris.” I studied his eyes, but they were stone. “I also know you went back out to the island Saturday and killed an innocent girl named Joyce. You shot both of them through the head with your dad’s rifle.”

  Roger looked around the kitchen—squinting against the light that flooded in through the window—and leaned close to me. “Where’s my dad? Why isn’t he here?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “I know I don’t have his rifle and I know I didn’t kill anyone. I also know I was home all day and I’m leaving for the military at the end of the month.” Roger’s hand seemed to shake when he reached for his Coke and took another sip.

  “Son, that man you shot this morning…that was your dad. You killed your own father—shot him through the head.”

  Roger choked on his Coke and spat a mouthful of the liquid across the table. He stared wide-eyed at me, his face twisted in horror. He turned slowly to look at Dawn and then back at me. After a long moment, his face relaxed a little and he let out a nervous laugh. “Wait a minute—you’re messing with me, aren’t you?” He nodded his head. “Yeah, you are. Like I said, I didn’t kill anybody. My dad’s in on this, ain’t he? This is a trick.”

  “Roger, I wish this was a trick, but it’s not.” I frowned. “This is as real and tragic as it gets. I know you didn’t realize it was your dad because his face was hooded, but he recognized you. That’s why he raised his head and inadvertently gave away his position. He couldn’t kill his own flesh and blood. No good father could ever mentally prepare himself for that horrible deed.”

  Tears welled up in Roger’s eyes and began flowing freely down his face as he realized what he’d done. His chin trembled and his voice shook when he said, “I don’t believe you, Mr. London. That man was not my dad.”

  I pulled out my phone and slid it across the table to him. “Go ahead and call him, but I promise you he won’t answer—ever. He’ll never answer your call again.” I felt my voice starting to rise in anger, so I took a moment to calm down. When I thought I could speak again without cursing him out, I said, “You messed up bad, son. You didn’t just kill your dad, but you killed my friend. And worse than that, you took everything away from Lily. You left her all alone.”

  Kicking his chair back, Roger jumped to his feet and cried hysterically. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to do it anymore! I wanted out, but he told me he’d kill Lily if I didn’t do what he said.”

  “You wanted out of what, son?” I stood beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Who made you do this?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he just stood there crying. I couldn’t help but notice how much he looked like a little boy.

  A little boy…

  Right at that moment it hit me—he was way too young to be the Trinity Sniper.

  What happened next was a blur. In one fleeting instance, I heard glass break, felt speckles of stabbing pain against the side of my face, and saw Roger’s head stretch and contort in a freakish manner. He collapsed straight down and was dead before he hit the hardwood floor. Without even thinking, I dove over the table and threw myself into Dawn, sending both of us crashing to the ground.

  CHAPTER 42

  “What the hell was that?” Jerry called over the radio.

  I fumbled for my radio and hollered, “There’s a second shooter! Roger’s down, and the shooter is out back.”

  Dawn pushed me toward the kitchen counter, where there was more cover. The front door burst open and Ray came barreling inside—staying low and holding his sniper rifle at the ready. It was bright inside, so I drew my pistol and fired two shots at the kitchen lights. Glass from the fluorescent bulbs rained down on us and sparks flew, but the room was cloaked in darkness. The explosion in the enclosed space hurt all the way to my eardrums and my ears began to ring.

  Ray’s voice sounded muffled as he shouted into the radio, communicating with Jerry. I felt naked without my rifle, so I told Dawn to stay put and I darted through the house, heading straight for the front door. When I reached it, I button-hooked around the door frame and sprinted for my truck. Once there, I pulled my rifle from the drag bag. I flipped open the scope caps, took a deep breath. I hadn’t heard another shot, so I keyed up my radio. “Jerry, do you see anything?”

  “Negative. The shot came from the tree line in the back of the house, but I think the shooter’s gone.”

  Crouching low, I ran toward the back carport. I dropped in a prone position near
a line of thick shrubs. I maneuvered on my belly until I found an opening through the shrubs and could see through to the tree line at the end of the property.

  I cursed when I saw Patrick running straight for the line of trees. He’s going to get himself killed!

  My field of view through the thick leaves was too narrow, so I rolled out from behind the shrubs and set up beside them, quickly attaining proper eye relief and scanning the shadows of the trees. I couldn’t make out a threat, but that didn’t mean one wasn’t there.

  “Sierra One, are you set up back here?” Jerry asked.

  Cursing myself for not strapping on my throat mic, I pulled out my radio with my left hand. “Ten-four, I’ve got a visual of the tree line.”

  “See anything?”

  “Negative. You?”

  “Nope.”

  Patrick had made it to the tree line and disappeared into the shadows. I watched for several tense minutes, not moving a muscle. The radio was silent. Other than the cool breeze rustling the leaves beside me, a light ringing in my ears, and some crickets chirping, I didn’t hear a sound. I was a sniper. Patience was my virtue. I could’ve waited there all day and night if I had to, but I didn’t.

  After about ten minutes, Patrick reemerged from the trees with his rifle slung over his shoulder. As though he could feel our scopes on him, he shook his head and mouthed the words, “He got away.”

  He seemed certain, but I remained in position covering him until he reached the carport. At that time, I stood and rested my rifle on my shoulder. “Any idea who we’re dealing with?”

  He shook his head. “Bastard was gone by the time I got there. It looks like he took one shot and hauled ass.”

  Jerry walked up. “Are we thinking they were working together?”

  I was thoughtful. According to everything I’d learned from Patrick, Roger was too young to be the Trinity Sniper. So, either the Trinity Sniper had recruited help and then killed Roger to tie up that loose end, or this case wasn’t even related to the Trinity Sniper murders. I voiced my thoughts and Patrick sighed. “I’ve got no idea what’s going on anymore, London. I really don’t.”