Milo had already worked his phone. “Twenty-six miles.”
I said, “Don’t want to keep anyone here but at some point I wouldn’t mind details.”
Milo said, “This point, we’re not speeding off anywhere. Moses?”
Reed paged some more. “The first place was Vantage, sixteen years ago, victim was a Caucasian male, forty-six years old, named Leonard Wiebelhaus, no criminal connections, worked at a tire shop. He was out shooting ring-necked pheasants in a wooded area when he got nailed. The second occurred six years later, similar terrain, victim was a Rainer Steckel, fifty-six, Caucasian male, school custodian, again no record. He was hunting deer and not wearing a proper orange vest.”
Alicia said, “Honestly, Doc, don’t see anything in common other than two middle-aged white guys. Which is your basic hunter demographic.”
Buxby said, “And six years in between ain’t exactly serial killer stuff.”
I said, “The cases may not be relevant but I think anything remotely similar needs to be looked at. I’m wondering if our guy convinced himself he’s a savior righting wrongs and that delusion began early. I’d especially be interested in the first victim—Wiebelhaus—because if his murder was a maiden voyage, the shooter could’ve been motivated by personal anger. If we’re talking someone who’s now in his thirties or forties, he’d started out as a teenager or in his early twenties. Both are peaks for criminality. And the six years between victims could be due to military service, which would fit a marksman.”
Alicia said, “Joins the service, works on his shooting, and gets rewarded for it.”
I said, “This is purely theoretical but I can see a discharged-with-personality issues deciding to turn his skills into a part-time career. Part-time, at this point, because as far as we know he hasn’t shot enough people to make a steady living.”
Petra said, “Unless he’s pulled off other hits with different weapons.”
“That’s a possibility.”
Milo said, “If not, we’re talking a day job that he augments and you know where that leads me.”
She said, “Back to Swanson.”
Buxby said, “Just what we need, a bad cop.”
“When you talk to your source, Buck, try to find out if Swanson has any roots in Ohio.”
Milo said, “Moe, try to dig a little deeper into those shootings. Not the locals, but maybe newspaper articles.”
“Will do, L.T. Anything else?”
Milo turned to Petra. “You want help on those citizen parking tickets?”
“If you’ve got the time, that would be great.”
“My time is yours, stick around and we’ll divide the chores. Meanwhile if there’s nothing else—”
The door swung open and Sean Binchy ran in.
None of his usual aw-shucks amiability. Wide-eyed, one hand clutching his phone tight enough to whiten the skin but turn his freckles darker, he raced to the empty chair but remained on his feet.
“We just got another one.”
Chapter
30
Milo recovered first. “C’mon up here and tell us about it.”
Sean stepped up to the boards, looking uneasy. First time as a lecturer.
He said, “It came in at a quarter to, Captain Shubb called me in and ordered me to take it. When she told me it was a .308, I said that sounds like it could be related to what we’re already working on, Loot needs to be informed right away. She said, ‘Forget that, he’s been seconded to Hollywood, has his hands full, we’ll see if it turns out to be relevant.’ ”
Buck Buxby said, “Sheesh.”
Everyone else kept quiet and looked at Sean.
