The report was dated five days before Vicky was shot in San Antonio. If the cases were connected, this could be the first shooting.
The door opened and Dan came back in with two cans of soda. Vanessa gratefully accepted hers, drinking nearly half almost immediately. Thirst was part of summer in West Texas, a constant reminder of the battle to keep from getting dehydrated. Dan sat down across from her.
“Find what you’re looking for?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“The facts are similar, but what I really need is the arrow. You guys have it?”
“Sure. There’s a photo of it in the file, too.”
He reached over, flipped down several pages, finally pulling out an eight-by-ten picture of the arrow. It was lying on a table, and had a broadhead on it much like the others. Vanessa stared hard at the photo but couldn’t make out any writing on the shaft.
“I need to see the arrow itself.”
“Okay. Mind if I ask what you’re looking for?”
“In both shootings we found writing on the arrow, and in each case, it was a name that would fluoresce under UV light.”
“No kidding? Was it the victim’s name?”
“Actually, no. The name on each arrow was of someone close to the victim. Both names were also tied to SAPD.”
Dan Carpenter stood and gathered up the file.
“Well, let’s go down to evidence and see what we can find.”
Vanessa followed the Hondo detective out of the conference room and down the hall. They went through another set of doors, turned left, and entered a stairwell. Going down one flight, through another door, Vanessa found herself standing with Dan in front of the evidence room.
He asked the young officer behind the window to let them in and the door buzzed. Once inside, Dan told the officer what they were after and, a few minutes later, he handed them a narrow box containing the arrow.
They put the box on an inspection table behind them. Dan slid the arrow out onto the table.
Vanessa saw immediately it was an Easton arrow. She figured the mangled broadhead would match the others as well, but she needed to confirm writing on the arrow to be certain it was the same shooter.
She reached in her pocket for a small UV flashlight to examine the arrow.
“Any prints?”
“None, and no other DNA beside the animal’s was found.”
“Not surprised. We haven’t found any on the arrows in our cases, either.”
She ran the light down the length of the arrow, and the beam revealed script like the others.
“There it is. Officer Brad Winston,” Vanessa announced.
“Son-of-a-gun.”
“That name ever pop up on your radar before?”
“No, never met him before this shooting.”
Vanessa opened her phone and called Jason. He picked up on the third ring.
“JD, this Vanessa.”
“Hey. What have you got?”
“Arrow is a match and has a name on it.”
“Brad Winston?”
“Bingo.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll tell the lieutenant.”
Vanessa snapped her phone closed.
“Can I get copies of the file and photos?”
“Of course.”
*******
Jason looked at the lieutenant as he pocketed his phone.
“Arrow matches, name and everything.
They had continued west on Highway 90 past Hondo, swinging south around the Hondo Municipal Airport, until they reached County Road 424..
They arrived in front of two large NO TRESPASSING signs at Winston’s address.
Jason shrugged. “Guess he’s serious about being left alone.”
“I think the shotgun he fired at the reporter was a good indicator of his idea of hospitality.”
They turned down the long lane, crossing the cattle gate, and approaching slowly. They didn’t want their arrival to surprise Winston, even though Jason doubted anyone could get down this driveway without being noticed.
“If the shooter managed to get onto the property, shoot the horse, and escape without being seen, he was probably on foot.”
As they approached the house, Jason was struck by the state of disrepair. The place appeared to have once been an impressive farmhouse.
They stopped in front of the porch and Patton turned off the car. After several minutes, no one had come out, and the lieutenant stepped out into the late morning sun. Jason was about to get out when he heard a voice.
“Who are you?”
Both Jason and Patton swiveled toward the barn on their left. Jason couldn’t immediately see where the voice had come from, but a moment later, a figure stepped out from the shadow of the barn door.
The man didn’t appear to be armed, but Jason still loosened the strap on his gun as he got out of the car. The lieutenant took the lead, his hand against his forehead, shading his eyes.
“Are you Brad Winston?”
There was a hesitation before the answer.
“Maybe. You still haven’t answered my question.”
The lieutenant flashed his badge.
“Lieutenant John Patton, and this is Detective Strong; we’re from SAPD. We’re looking for Brad Winston.”
The man’s posture relaxed noticeably.
“Been a long time, John. Come in out of the sun.”
Jason re-strapped his gun and followed the lieutenant into the relative cool of the barn.
The men shook hands, and Brad took a seat on an overturned water trough. The barn was a stark contrast to the house. Inside, it was clean and organized, especially for a barn.
Leather saddles, reins, bits, and various ropes hung in perfect order along one wall. The far end of the barn had another large door that was open onto the pasture beyond. The wall running opposite the hanging tack had a series of square stalls with sliding doors. Jason noticed all the stall doors were open.
Brad Winston looked like a man who had been busy with chores, but there didn’t appear to be any animals to tend.
“What brings you way out here, John?”
“We heard about a horse being shot with an arrow on your farm; we needed to ask you about it.”
Jason watched as the man’s face dropped, his eyes becoming instantly moist.
“Southern Dancer. That was his name. I mortgaged the farm to buy him as a colt.
Ultimately, I had to sell the other horses when money got tight. He was my ticket to a bright future. Now, I don’t know…”
“What made him so special?”
The man raised his eyes, shining with pride.
“He was born from a mare with a Kentucky Derby winner in her bloodline. As a stud, he would’ve brought high fees for breeding, but what made him special was the connection we had. It’s probably hard to understand, but that horse was my best friend.”
Jason immediately thought of Penny. He could tell the big, white dog had already connected with them on an emotional level that was hard to explain.
John Patton’s voice reflected the compassion he felt for Brad Winston as he spoke.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
Jason took out his notebook as the man took a deep breath and began to describe a day he’d probably relived a thousand times. One he wished he could forget.
“It was a Wednesday morning like any other. I came out to the barn around seven-thirty and called him. Normally, he would hear the front door of the house and already be standing over at the end of the barn, or he would appear just minutes later. He could run like the wind and, even if he was at the far end of the property, he would show up quickly.”
He paused to gather himself before continuing.
“Anyway, when he didn’t show, I got worried and walked toward the pasture. At first, I didn’t see him, but eventually I caught something lying by the east fence. I called several more times, but he didn’t move. I ran to him…he was already dead when I got there.”
; Brad Winston wiped a dirty shirtsleeve across his eyes.
“Why are you interested in what happened to Dancer?”
Jason stepped in for his lieutenant, who appeared to need a minute to gather himself. The loss of the thoroughbred seemed to bother Patton a lot, and Jason made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“We’re investigating two shootings in San Antonio, both with an arrow. My partner visited Hondo PD and verified the arrow used to kill Dancer matches the arrows in our investigation. We’re trying to find the connection between the victims.”
“What could Dancer have to do with the people in your cases?”
“Actually, we’re working on a theory the people close to the victims, rather than the victims themselves, is what connects the killings.”
“You mean Dancer was killed because of me?”
The idea horrified him. The lieutenant put his hand on Brad’s shoulder.
“It’s just a theory, and you’re in no way responsible for Dancer’s death. Do you understand that?”
Brad nodded his head but didn’t appear comforted.
“Do you have any leads on who this animal is?”
“Not yet. We’re working hard on it, and I’ll keep you informed myself, okay?”
Brad nodded again.
Jason wanted to see the spot where Southern Dancer had been shot.
“Is it okay if we walk out to where you found Dancer?”
“Sure, but I haven’t been out there since that day. You guys mind going without me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but got up and slowly walked to the far end of the barn. He swung open the big door, and pointed them across the field.
“Over by those scrub bushes. You won’t have any trouble finding it.”
Winston turned and walked back into the barn, while Jason and John walked through the noonday sun toward where he had pointed.
Brad was right; there was no missing the spot. A large, red impression in the dirt outlined where the horse had fallen. Jason scanned the immediate area.
A county farm road ran along the length of the fence that would have made it easy for someone to stop at night, shoot, and drive away, all without being seen. Any moonlight would be enough to see such a large animal as a horse. The men returned to the barn without a word.
Brad had returned to his seat on the water trough. The lieutenant shook his hand.
“Thanks Brad, I’ll be in touch.”
On the drive back to the city, Jason decided to ply the lieutenant about his earlier reaction.
“Brad’s story seemed to hit you pretty hard, huh?”
After a moment or two of silence, John looked at him, then back at the road.
“Did I ever tell you my dad raced horses when I was young?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, he did, but none as valuable as Dancer.”
“They’re beautiful animals.”
“Anyway, he had this one horse named Trinity. She was his best, and he was really proud of her. One Saturday, she’s racing in a stakes race when she stumbled and fell, shattering her leg. There was no choice; Dad had to make the decision to put her down.”
“That must’ve been tough.”
“It was a sad time in our home. Dad took it very hard, and eventually gave up racing. Brad reminded me of him.”
They rode the rest of the way back in silence.
Chapter 8
For the second time today, Captain Garza was in Lieutenant Patton’s office. The lieutenant got up to shut the door, but waved Jason in first. Once Jason was inside, John Patton shut the door.
“Jason, please tell the captain what the working theory on the arrow killings is.”
Jason stayed standing.
“As I’m sure the lieutenant told you, we found a third victim of the arrow killer. It turned out to be a horse, but the key was the owner. Each of our shootings has been tied to a family member who is now, or was at one time, an SAPD officer.”
The captain held up his hand to stop Jason. “Does this mean you suspect the shootings are targeted, not random?”
“Yes sir, it does.”
“I’m not happy to find members of our city’s finest being targeted, but I am relieved we can tell the public this wacko’s not out there shooting just anyone.”
“It’s just a theory, but it appears to be a strong one.”
“What about motive? Have you made any headway in finding out why these victims were targeted?”
“No sir, not yet. We’ll begin looking at cases that all three people had in common, but it’s gonna take some time.”
“I understand, Detective. Keep after it, please.”
Captain Garza turned toward the lieutenant, who had returned to his desk chair.
“John, I want to have a press conference tomorrow, noon. I need you and your detectives there.”
“Okay. Downstairs in the briefing room?”
“Yes.”
The captain rose to leave and Jason opened the door for him. Captain Garza extended his hand to Jason and they shook.
“Good work, Detective.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After the captain had left, Jason shut the door again, and took a seat in front of the lieutenant’s desk.
“I owe a phone call to Devin James at the News. What can I tell him?”
John Patton leaned back in his chair and rubbed both hands over his face; he looked tired.
“Tell him he can say the following: ‘An unnamed source has indicated police feel the general public is safe and The Hunter’s victims are not being chosen at random.’ That’s all we can give him for now, but let him know you’ll give him first question at the press conference.”
“Seems fair. I’ll call him now, then I think I’ll go home.”
The lieutenant smiled.
“That is an excellent idea. Did I mention Lindsey and I are celebrating our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary next week?”
“No. Do you have something planned?”
“We do, and I’m not telling any of you around here. For detectives, you’re terrible at keeping secrets.”
Jason laughed before leaving the office.
“You’re a wise man, John Patton.”
*******
Bobby White finished his shift at the shoe factory and headed home. Lisa was off tonight, and they were planning their standard barbeque with the kids.
‘Kids’ was still the way he saw both Kara and Kyle, but they were grown now, with families of their own. Still, once a week they all tried to get together for a cookout.
Occasionally, one of the kids would host it at their house, but most of time, he and Lisa would have everyone over.
Bobby checked his watch. By now, the kids were probably there with the grill going. He thought about stopping for some beer, but he knew Kyle always brought Coors. Bobby didn’t like it much, but he drank it to make Kyle happy.
Pulling into the driveway, he unfolded his six-foot, two-inch frame out of his Honda Civic. It got great gas mileage, but it made him stiff sitting in the little car. Shutting the door, he turned toward the house before realizing he’d forgotten his cooler.
He opened the car door, bent to get the cooler, and felt a piercing pain in his side. Crashing against the car and dropping the cooler to the ground, he looked down at his side.
In a dreamlike state, he was reminded of the Old West movies he watched as a kid. An arrow was sticking out of him.
*******
Sandy Strong had only been home about twenty minutes when the phone rang. The number on the caller ID was Jason.
“Hi.”
“Hey honey, it’s me. I’m getting ready to head home.”
“Great, I’ll start dinner. How was your day?”
“Interesting. I’ll fill you in at dinner. How about you?”
Sandy did her best to keep a calm voice.
“Same as usual. See you in a half hour?”
“On my way, love y
ou.”
“Love you, too.”
She wanted to say hurry home, can’t wait for you to get here, or maybe just burst out with the news, but she controlled herself.
After they hung up, she took the steaks she had thawing and went out to the grill. Turning on the gas and sparking the flame, she laid the two porterhouse slabs on the grates, pulled down the lid, and went inside for some Mrs. Dash spice.
After sprinkling the steaks with the spices, she went back to the kitchen, tore open a premade bag of salad, and dumped it in a large, red bowl. She put it on the table along with a couple different salad dressings. Some canned corn heated in the microwave rounded out the meal; not fancy, but it would serve the purpose.
Sandy went out and flipped the steaks. As she stood watching them cook, she caught herself rubbing her stomach. She wondered how many times she would repeat the same motion over the coming months.
Glancing at her watch, she took the steaks off while they were still bloody. She liked to tease Jason for wanting his steak so rare it was still crawling across the plate.
Inside, the table was set, and she was just lighting candles when Jason came through the door.
“Hello?”
“In here,” she called.
He came around corner and saw the laid-out table.
“Wow, what’s this?”
Sandy moved to her husband, gave him a peck, and hugged him, as she always did. She tried to ignore the danger in his job, and they never actually spoke about it other than in their early life together. It was easier to deal with his career since Jason was no longer on street patrol, but she still felt grateful every night when he came home.
Especially tonight.
Somebody else was glad to see him. Penny came padding into the room, and bumped against his leg.
“Hi ya, girl. Looks like both my girls missed me today.”
Jason went into the kitchen to wash up while Sandy doled out two plates of food. They sat at the table, Jason at the head, Sandy next to him, and ate quietly for a few minutes. Sandy broke the silence.
SILENT JUSTICE (Det. Jason Strong (CLEAN SUSPENSE Book 4) Page 6