“Jesus Christ,” Genesis Valley sheriff Upton York growled as he ducked under the tape, eyes scanning the chaos like it personally offended him. He wore his city uniform, his thin brown hair in a comb-over, and his pudgy face sharply shaven. “You turn your back for one second and killers are taking rounds on courthouse steps.”
“Accused killer,” Norrs snarled. “She’s innocent.”
York looked toward the reporters angling for position. “Sure she is. Jesus. You’re blind, man.”
Huck couldn’t agree more. He didn’t look at either of them. “Single round. Suppressed. Took the victim in the vest, hit her arm as well. Entry angle’s too steep for ground level.”
York frowned. “You’re saying this came from a building?”
“Not just any building. That one.” Huck pointed toward the old Co-Op tower. “Top floor. Angle matches. Nothing else has that line.”
Norrs whistled. “That’s what—six, seven hundred yards?”
“Closer to eight-fifty,” Huck said, standing now. “Wind was low. Shooter had time. No panic in the shot.”
York’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. Around them, deputies pushed the press back toward the secondary perimeter, where two local news anchors were already reporting live from just beyond the tape.
Norrs appeared beside them, eyes following Huck’s line. “You think this was a hit on Abigail? Just her?”
“If they wanted more bodies, they’d have fired again,” Huck said. He turned from the courthouse, gaze still locked on the distant rooftop. “This was deliberate. Clean. Controlled.”
York squinted up at the tower. “You think he’s still up there?”
“No,” Huck said, already moving. “I think he left exactly when he wanted to leave. Let’s go find it.”
York made the mistake of grabbing his arm. “This is my scene, Officer. The crime happened in Genesis Valley, and I’m the Chief of Police.”
Huck didn’t have time for this crap. “The state is taking over the investigation.” He didn’t want a pissing match over jurisdiction. “This was a sniper shot, and I once worked as a sniper. I’m happy to keep you in the loop, or we could investigate together, but I’m not messing around here.”
Norrs cleared his throat. “You know, I believe the FBI would like concurrent jurisdiction. The victim has received threats via email, which triggers federal jurisdiction.”
Rain matted York’s thin hair to his head, giving his comb-over a thicker look. “Could’ve been somebody local, and you know it. That’s not enough to give the FBI jurisdiction, and as the local, I’m not asking for it.”
“In addition”—Norrs continued as if York hadn’t spoken—“the victim is not only dating an FBI agent but is the sister of one. That proximity could give jurisdiction.”
Doubtful. “Conflict of interest,” Huck said firmly. “You’ve got it and you know it. Back off, Norrs. The state is taking this, and I will keep you and your office informed.” Damn, he hoped he had the juice to take the case. “Let’s go find this guy’s perch.”
They crossed under the tape with minimal words, Norrs matching Huck’s pace while York huffed behind them, muttering about assholes.
“Huck.” A willowy blonde ducked her head against the rain and hustled up to him, her phone out and pressed toward his mouth. “You heard the shot, right? You yelled ‘gun’ before most of us realized what had happened.”
He kept his face expressionless. “No comment.”
“Come on,” Rachel Raprenzi said. “You were a sniper and you must’ve recognized the sound. Who do you think tried to kill Dr. Caine?”
“No comment.” He could not believe he’d once been engaged to the ambitious journalist. She’d thrown him under the bus for a story once, and he’d never let her do it again.
She didn’t move her phone away from his face. “I know about your time in the military, remember? You should talk to me so I get the facts right.”
The woman didn’t care about facts. She cared about ratings. Sure, she knew he’d been a sniper, but he’d never confided in her. Not once about that time in his life. “Watch out for slander this time,” he murmured, not forgetting she’d accused him of being a serial killer just a month ago.
“I’m sorry about that, but when Zeke Caine kidnapped me, he made it seem like it was you. I was one of his victims, too.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her smooth face.
Huck motioned for one of the county deputies, who ran up, eyes wide. “Make sure none of them follow us. Thanks.” He ignored Rachel’s sputtering and moved out into the street.
The three of them cut through the edge of the crowd, drawing a few camera lenses and more than one shouted question. Huck didn’t break stride. He didn’t even glance at the press.
The sidewalk shimmered with rainwater. Old brick storefronts blurred past in Huck’s periphery as they moved toward the Co-Op tower. Half the top floor windows were punched out from storms or vagrants. A place like that, quiet and forgotten, made the perfect blind.
