Madison took the sheet and scanned it. “Not exactly what I was hoping for,” Madison moaned.
“Finding this gun will be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Terry said with a mouthful of food, his appetite obviously not affected by recent events.
She’d normally shoot him a glare for the cliché, but it seemed so trivial in light of everything else.
“Now, I took a quick look at the footage, both from the gas station and the intersection, to get us to the timeline we’re interested in,” Cynthia began. “The shooter’s vehicle was a BMW sedan, black, but it was an older model.”
“Plate number?” Madison asked.
Cynthia shook her head. “There were no plates.”
“They obviously had plans to do something illegal. We still don’t know if Weir was a specific target, though, or if they would have been happy with any cop,” Madison thought aloud.
“I have one feed from the gas station ready to go first. This is from the camera facing the road.” Cynthia hit “play.”
The BMW came to a stop next to the east entrance to Rico’s station. The window was two thirds of the way down, and while the occupants of the vehicle were in shadow with the camera’s angle, the driver’s mouth was wide open. There was no sound to the video, but this was probably when he had screamed out, “Die, cop.” Quickly following were flashes of light.
She thought of Kayla from the Bean Counter. I saw a flash of light.
The shooting was over in less than a minute, and the driver tore off, the nose of the car even lifting as the rear tires bit into the pavement.
“Can you pause it there?” Madison asked.
Cynthia stopped the footage.
The perps’ faces were in shadow, and they were wearing dark clothing.
“That window is down more than a crack, but we still can’t make out the shooter’s face,” Terry grumbled.
Madison nodded. “We can see the hands on the gun, though. Caucasian. And the shooter knows something about handling a weapon as they’re using both hands.”
Terry pressed his lips together. “That doesn’t indicate a newbie to a gang.”
“Firing more bullets than necessary belies real experience in firing a gun, though,” Madison said, playing devil’s advocate to her own theory.
“The gang could have told him how to hold the gun.”
“Cyn, can you reverse a bit?” Madison asked.
Cynthia backed it up a few frames. “Where do you—”
“Right there.”
Cynthia hit “play” again.
The shooter pulled the trigger, and the recoil had the gun arching upward. The process repeated four times.
Madison looked at Terry. “Not experienced after all. Look how the shooter’s body posture stiffens trying to offset the recoil.”
“Yeah, and four rounds.”
“Did you see how the front nose of the car lifted on acceleration?” Madison added. “That means we’re looking for a model with rear-wheel drive.”
Terry looked over at her, then glanced at Cynthia.
“As I said at the crime scene. And, sadly, most BMWs are,” Cynthia said. “We can, however, eliminate the X series as they are all four-wheel drive.”
Madison gestured to the screen. “And there’s no way to tell the model of this vehicle from what we have here?”
Cynthia didn’t answer but brought up another video. “This is from the intersection, facing north.”
The vehicle came toward them, approached Rico’s, and stopped. Cynthia paused the footage and overlaid a grid pattern to the video.
“Cyn?” Madison was wondering if a view from the front could help identify the model given the grill or body line.
Cynthia held up her index finger and was clicking here and there. Seconds later, she grinned at Madison and Terry. “We’re looking for a BMW 3 series sedan, probably a 2012 to 2014.”
“See if any of those have been reported stolen in the area.”
Cynthia conducted a quick search. “Nope. None.”
“All right,” Madison said, thinking now about how the plates had been removed. “What about people who have that kind of car registered to them?”
Cynthia did another quick search. “Fifty people.”
“Holy crap.” All the hope that was starting to grow in Madison started to dim.
“I’ll print off the names for you.”
Madison nodded as the printer clicked to life and then started spitting out paper. Fifty people would take a lot of time to question—more time than Madison wanted to sacrifice. “Heaven forbid we catch a break.” Madison sighed. “Let’s continue with the city’s video.”
The footage resumed, and Cynthia slowed the playback, pausing when the BMW was closest to the camera. Both shooter and driver were wearing hoodies, heads tilted downward. The driver was taller than the passenger.
“Can you calculate their heights?” Madison asked.
Cynthia smiled at her, and then overlaid another grid pattern over the image. “Accounting for the forward curve of their heads, you’re looking for a driver of approximately six four and a shooter just under six feet.”
“You’re a genius,” Madison said, beaming at her friend. “What about weight?”
“I’m a miracle worker but not that much of one.” Cynthia laughed, but it came to an abrupt halt. “Actually, if I get the riding height of the car itself and measure how low to the ground it actually is, that could give us an idea. Granted they didn’t modify the car, of course.”
Another genius moment…
Madison watched as her friend did her thing.
“All right, the way the car’s riding, it indicates an added total weight of approximately three hundred and fifty pounds.”
Madison was smiling.
“But remember, that’s an estimate,” Cynthia began. “The trunk could be full of crap, who knows.”
Madison pegged the driver as 180 to 200 pounds and the shooter at 150 to 170. She thought back to the other video, how the shooter’s body was angled toward the window, two hands on the gun. They would have to be small enough to turn their entire body in the passenger seat to face out the window.
“Now, was any gas station camera facing west toward pump two?” Madison asked.
“One thing at a time, Maddy. Let’s watch another video first. This was taken from the one mounted on the storefront, facing the lanes of pumps. But before I start it, I’m going to warn you, this one will be harder to watch.”
Madison’s chest tightened and her breathing slowed down as her stomach fluttered. Cynthia pressed a button and another feed began.
The vehicle pulled up, there was the burst of light, and Barry went down. The small bit of sandwich Madison had eaten swirled in her gut.
“Unfortunately, none of the shots will work for running facial recognition. As you can see, it’s quite dark, and with the poor quality of the cameras… Well, it’s not helpful.”
Madison took in the shadowed face of the killer, then the body of the car. Her eyes stopped on the back fender. It was round and looked like a sticker. She hadn’t noticed it before. It must have been blocked from the other angles.
“Cyn, zoom in there.” She pointed toward it.
Cynthia focused in. It was definitely a decal. It was hard to make out the image, but it looked like a pentagram with a goat head in the center and what resembled the rebel flag.
“Is that what I think it is?” Terry stepped closer to the monitor and then turned to Madison and Cynthia.
Madison raised her eyebrows. “What do you think it is?”
“Except for the rebel flag, this is the sign of the Devil.”
“Ah, just great.” Madison glanced toward the ceiling. “We’re hunting someone involved with a gang that uses the Devil’s symbol as their call sign?
”
Terry opened his palms. “Not necessarily. It could just be a sticker.”
Madison was about to ask Cynthia to run the decal through the system, but Cynthia was already on it.
Minutes later, Cynthia was shaking her head. She glanced at Terry but settled her gaze on Madison. “It’s not in the system, and as much as I hate to say it, maybe Terry’s right and it doesn’t really factor into the shooting.”
Madison considered what that might mean. Was there a new gang in town they didn’t know about yet? She’d have to ask the gangs unit if they’d come across the symbol before.
“And for the record, I’m right more often than I’m given credit for.” Terry shot both women a glare.
“Aw, hug him, Maddy.”
Madison smirked and rolled her eyes. “He’s a big boy. Hit ‘play,’ please.”
The few seconds of lighthearted banter died as they watched Barry fall to the ground again. Madison’s eyes skipped to the left of the screen, to pump two. The mystery driver and the Chevy SS. But one thing at a time.
A common admonition that kept coming up with this case…
She had Cynthia replay the gunfire at super slow motion and counted the flashes of light until Barry went down. “He was hit with the third bullet.”
Madison walked over to the screen and pressed a finger to the image of the driver of the Chevy, who was pumping gas. The driver was a woman. She calmly put the nozzle back in its cradle and left the station from the south exit as Kayla had said she had. After the fourth bullet had fired.
“Can you replay the part just before the mystery woman gets in her car?” Madison asked, and Cynthia did as she requested.
When the fourth round fired, the woman’s shoulder appeared to be pushed backward. She was already working to get the nozzle back into the pump when she was hit. Her face registered a few seconds of shock, but otherwise, she seemed pretty put together. It had to have been the adrenaline.
“Right there.” Madison pointed to the screen again. “She was hit with the fourth bullet.”
“I’d like to know why she leaves her car door open while she’s pumping gas,” Terry said.
Madison shrugged, having noticed the same thing but not thinking anything of it. “It could just be how she pumps her gas.”
“Or she could have left her door open so she could make a quick getaway.”
“That would lead to another question. If she was involved, why run at all? She could have just stayed on scene, been treated for her injury, questioned, and released. She wouldn’t even seem suspicious.”
“Who knows what people think most of the time,” Terry said on a sigh.
“True enough,” Madison conceded. “When we catch up with her, we’ll ask. But there haven’t been any reports of single GSWs that have come in…”
“She could be receiving treatment at a clinic,” Cynthia offered. “Sometimes they are slower about reporting these types of things.”
“What about the plate on the Chevy? Can you get a closer look?” Terry asked.
“Let’s see.” A second later, they were zoomed right in on it and they had a partial.
Madison and Terry hurried to Cynthia’s side as she punched in the digits they had and cross-referenced it to vehicle type.
A DMV photo came up showing a brunette with a rather forgettable face. Were they looking at a spooked eyewitness or an accessory? And if she was the latter, was she connected with a gang? Even if she wasn’t involved in the shooting, she was an eyewitness who had failed to come forward.
“The car is registered to an Erica Snyder of Stiles. She’s twenty-one, single, holds an office job. No criminal record.”
“Her address?”
Cynthia rattled it off as Madison wrote it down.
“Perfect.” Madison pointed to Snyder’s address on the monitor. “We’ll be there if you need us.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Cynthia said, bringing up another piece of footage. “There’s one more. This is from inside the store.”
Cynthia played it, and they watched as Hines dropped to the floor, and then she reversed the footage until Snyder appeared as she was paying cash.
“I’ll print this off. It shows you a close-up of what she was wearing this morning. Maybe the sarge will issue a media statement saying she’s wanted for questioning.”
“Doubt that,” Madison said. Sergeant Winston never rushed into those for fear of tarnishing a person’s reputation, but there was something she could do. They could get a BOLO out on Snyder’s car.
-
Chapter 14
MADISON AND TERRY GOT THE call that a hit came back on the BOLO issued for Snyder’s Chevy SS when they were on the way to Snyder’s house. The car was found in the parking lot of a strip mall. It consisted of a grocery chain, a pharmacy, a dollar store, an office-supply store, and an urgent care clinic, which was located on the north end of the strip mall.
Madison nodded toward the clinic. “How much do you want to bet she’s in there?”
“The regular amount?”
She glanced over at her partner. They tended to make a bet—or two—over the course of most investigations, but usually their bets had more to do with the innocence of suspects. “I meant it as a figure of speech this time.”
Terry shrugged his shoulders and looked out the passenger window.
She was thinking of Snyder as she scanned the lot and spotted officers standing next to the Chevy. But there was no Erica Snyder in sight. Were they trying to spook her?
“Did both these guys get their badges yesterday?” Madison rolled the department sedan into the spot beside the officers and put her window down. “Get the hell away from the car.”
The smile that had been on one of the officers’ faces melted away.
Without waiting for him to say anything, she pulled out of the spot and drove off the lot. A few minutes later, she reentered from a side exit and parked closer to the clinic. She just hoped that Snyder hadn’t seen the officers and fled the area. She could have called a cab or gotten on a city bus. And if she was on the run, she’d avoid going home.
Madison got out of the car and looked at the strip mall. She was thinking that she’d hit the clinic first, even though she knew privacy laws would protect Snyder if she was in there. But there had to be something she and Terry could do. She glanced at Terry, who was now standing next to her, and observed all the cruisers coming into the area. There were cars posted near the exits of all the stores now. It would make it harder for Snyder if she did try to run now.
“The front lot is covered. I’m going around the back side of the clinic,” Madison said.
“And me?”
“You stay up front, near the clinic’s main door.”
“Got it.” Terry hung next to the building, the door to the clinic still in his direct line of sight, and Madison made her way around back.
She had just reached the clinic’s back door when it cracked open.
Erica Snyder was looking straight at Madison and seemed frozen for a few seconds. Then she was gone, retreating into the building again.
Madison lunged for the door handle and turned it before Snyder could lock it.
Madison entered the clinic, pursuing Snyder down a hallway. “Stop! Stiles P—” Madison crashed right into a nurse who was exiting a room.
The nurse put a hand to her chest. “What are you— You can’t be back here. Someone call the police!”
Madison held up her badge. “I am the police. I need to take that woman”—she pointed to Snyder’s form disappearing down the hallway—“in for questioning.”
“You need a warrant to be back here,” the nurse spat out, her eyes defiant.
Madison was pursuing someone reasonably believed to be involved in a serious crime, and that outweighed the need for a warrant at this point. She to
re off after Snyder, ignoring the nurse.
At least there was only one way for Snyder to go, and that was out the front door where Terry and other officers were waiting.
The nurse was still yelling about privacy and ethics when Madison reached the front door and burst outside.
Terry had Snyder by one of her arms and her shoulder. There was a white bandage wrapped around her upper arm—the same arm that had been pushed back after the gunfire. “Put your hands behind your back,” he said.
Snyder complied, likely wanting as little damage done to her arm as possible. “I didn’t do anything.”
People stopped to watch, their mundane activities suspended for the time being.
“You fled the scene where a police officer was shot and killed,” Terry spat out as he snapped the cuffs on Snyder’s wrists.
“And you just ran from me,” Madison added.
Snyder stopped moving, her legs buckling beneath her.
Great. All I need is someone else passing out.
Terry managed to keep Snyder upright. She looked at Madison. “He died?”
Madison wasn’t about to repeat what Terry had just said. “You’re going to tell us everything you saw and why you left a crime scene.” Madison’s heartbeat was in her ears.
“What about my car?” Snyder’s voice rose with each word, straining.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. We’ll be taking it in.” Madison yanked on the woman’s uninjured arm, directing her to the closest cruiser.
All resistance stopped, and Snyder’s eyes were suddenly wet. “I had nothing to do with the shooting.”
“Then I guess you’ll have no problem talking to us.”
-
Chapter 15
ERICA SNYDER WAS SET UP inside an interrogation room, and Madison and Terry were watching her through the two-way mirror. They were about to leave and join Snyder when Winston entered. Based on the man’s scowl, news had traveled fast.
In the Line of Duty Page 9