Kill Shot

by Susan Sleeman

  Olivia had learned enough about the marines to know she meant he was attached to the First Battalion, Fifth Marines Regiment.

  “The 1/5 is out of California. Did you return here after Mr. Santos separated from the marines?”

  “We lived in Atlanta. I’d moved there during his service to make travel easier for both of us.” She frowned. “Then we split for a while, and I came back home to be near my family. That’s when Dr. Dobbs helped Cesar, and then he joined me here.”

  “So one of his specialties was sniper. What was his other top MOS?” Rick looked at Olivia. “I imagine you’re familiar with military occupational specialty codes.”

  “I know each marine carries two specialties that remain at the top of their record, but over the course of a career they may have several different MOS codes,” Olivia said.

  “Cesar only had two,” Luna said. “He was a sniper and primary marksmanship instructor.”

  A quick frown flashed on Rick’s face, but he quickly eliminated it. Olivia wouldn’t ask him what was going on in front of Luna. The moment they stepped outside, however, she’d be all over it.

  “One more question, if you don’t mind,” Rick said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Did Mr. Santos have a tattoo?”

  “Yes. He came home from a deployment with one on his shoulder.”

  “Might you have a picture of the tattoo?”

  “No. We have no photos of Cesar without a shirt.”

  “Then can you describe it for me and give me a better timeframe of when he got it?”

  “It was a bunch of arrows in a circle. He said it was to honor a fallen marine, but he didn’t tell me the soldier’s name. I could tell losing his friend bothered him, so I did not pry.” She paused and tapped a finger on her chin. “This was the year our daughter was born, so about five years ago.”

  Rick came to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Santos. I know my questions have been hard for you.”

  She tipped her head in a somber nod.

  “Rick was a Marine Scout Sniper, too,” Olivia said.

  Luna’s eyes flashed up to his, and instead of suspicion, they now held respect, as Olivia had hoped they would when she revealed his service. She hugged Luna and handed her a business card. “Call me if you need anything. Even if you just want to talk. I’m here for you.”

  “You are as special as Cesar always said,” she murmured, then escorted them to the door.

  Rick stopped at the threshold. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. Santos. Your husband sounded like a wonderful man.”

  “Thank you.” She clutched Rick’s hand for a moment before stepping back.

  On the sidewalk Olivia peered at Rick. “Why were you so disappointed when Luna told you Cesar only had two MOS codes?”

  “Instructors interact with a large number of marines. If Cesar had done so for years and our killer is a soldier, Cesar could well have trained the guy who killed him.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  Rick nodded and started for the SUV.

  She hurried to keep up with him. “And Cesar’s last unit. Why did you want that?”

  “Max has run into a wall in getting Ace’s records and could have the same problem with Cesar’s SRB. They’re supposed to be kept in a national archive for six years after date of enlistment, but in case they’re not available there, his last unit could potentially have them.”

  He opened the passenger door, but she ignored it. “I suppose you’ll need a warrant for that.”

  “Actually, no. Service records are now basically public information.”

  “Public, really?”

  “Not public in the sense that anyone can get them. The requestor has to have a justifiable reason for asking.”

  “Which you do.”

  He nodded.

  “But what are you looking for?”

  “I have to believe, with Cesar having a tattoo matching Ace’s, that they served together at some point. Perhaps in the same sniper platoon. Luna said the tat was inked for a friend, and you said Ace mumbled, ‘The guys. We voted,’ and ‘Tank deserves it.’ Like you said, Tank could be the guy who died, and the friends are part of his former platoon.”

  “I can give you a list of my clients who were former snipers, too, so you can check for a connection to others.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said flatly.

  His lack of eagerness baffled her. They were searching for a shooter. One who could make difficult shots. So why wasn’t a list of snipers helpful?

  “I would think it would help to know which of my clients were snipers and could have made those long-distance shots.”

  He leaned on the car door. “I never said the shooter was a sniper.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then I guess you didn’t, but the officer who came to my rescue did.” She met his gaze head-on. “So is the shooter a trained sniper?”

  “We have no proof that he is.”

  “And you haven’t said he wasn’t. Means you can’t talk about it.” She slid into the car, her thoughts racing. So maybe the shooter wasn’t a trained sniper, but how could a shooter who wasn’t a sniper shoot so accurately? Maybe it was his weapon. A special one, perhaps, and one that had a connection with the August date that Rick kept mentioning. Perhaps her Internet search would turn up the answer.

  Before she could ask Rick about it, he slammed her door and walked around the front of the vehicle. When he climbed in, she hoped he would elaborate, but he simply cranked the engine.

  “Don’t worry, I get it,” she said. “You can’t share details.”

  He shot her a surprised look. “Thank you for respecting my position.”

  “Finally, right.” She chuckled. “I mean you’ve had to mention a few times that you can’t share.”

  “You’re tenacious. I like that.” His gaze connected with hers, and that heat, that emotion that was growing between them crackled in the confined space.

  She wouldn’t linger in such dangerous territory. “Tell me about the HOG’s tooth. Did you wear yours?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “It was more of a symbol of having achieved a goal when so many others fell short, not something I really believed would protect me.”

  “How many men were in your class?”

  “We started with forty and sixteen graduated.”

  “Less than half. I can see why the HOG’s tooth is important to you.”

  “And that’s why I didn’t wear it. I wanted to keep it in a safe place. And like I said, I didn’t believe it had any power to protect me. Only God can do that.”

  “Did most guys wear them?”

  “A lot of them didn’t. They respected the fact that it had to be earned like a medal and put theirs away for safekeeping, too.”

  “Not Ace or Cesar, and now the killer’s collecting them. Why would he want to do that?”

  “You’re talking about the psychological reason he might be taking them. Like taking a trophy.”

  She nodded. “The killer has to know all about the HOG’s tooth and what it signifies to have any reason to want them. Which could help show the shooter is military or former military himself and why he can make such long shots.”

  Rick’s face went blank. Stony. She’d entered another area he wouldn’t discuss.

  “Unless of course the weapon he’s using makes him a better shooter,” she continued, not taking her gaze from him. “That’s it, isn’t it? He has some kind of weapon that makes him a supershooter.”

  No response.

  “Okay, you can’t talk about it. So I’ll simply recap what I know. We may or may not be dealing with a trained sniper as the shooter. Regardless, you and your team were brought in on what seemed like a simple murder case. And that occurred before we knew two men had been murdered. So it wasn’t because of a serial killer. You won’t confirm the guy is a sniper, but he’s killed two people, b
oth times with one shot from a great distance. So if he isn’t a sniper, he must have some sort of special weapon.”

  She cast him a look and waited for a response. He didn’t move. Not a fraction of an inch.

  “A special weapon it is, then,” she continued, and when he didn’t deny it, she dug out her phone to check on the August date in hopes of seeing a reference to some sort of special weaponry. One that would make a superteam like the White Knights hop a plane and give their unbridled focus to a basic murder investigation.

  Chapter 20

  Rick got the car onto the freeway heading back to Atlanta and hoped Olivia would stop asking questions. She was tenacious, he’d give her that, reasoning out the problem and figuring out the killer had a special weapon. He didn’t want to keep the information about the smart bullets from her and considered telling her. But that would be a violation of his security clearance, not to mention promises he’d made to the team. He’d never had a problem holding things back from a witness or suspect. But she wasn’t just a witness anymore, was she? She’d become so much more to him, and he couldn’t let that connection continue to grow, or he’d wind up hurting her. When they got back to Atlanta, he’d try to find a way to spend less time with her while making sure she was safe.

  She faced him. “We got off track when we were talking about the reason this shooter might be taking the HOG’s tooth.”

  He nearly blurted out his thanks for bringing up a topic he could discuss. “I think the shooter is targeting snipers as an act of revenge and taking the HOG’s tooth to thumb his nose at their training or service.”

  “Revenge for what?” she asked.

  “Maybe Ace and Cesar were part of the same platoon and they were supposed to provide cover for the shooter or for his unit. But the snipers failed in some way, the shooter was injured or someone he cared about died, and he’s seeking revenge. Or could be a soldier’s family who blames these guys.”

  “Say that’s true. Why suddenly kill them when they’ve been out of the military for so long?”

  Because they now have the weapon to do it. “I’m guessing the timing has never been right. Or if a loved one died, perhaps the family didn’t know the details until now. The real key here is finding out if Ace and Cesar knew each other and how. And the SRBs, once we get them, are a good place to start.”

  She nodded, then fell silent, and miles passed beneath them before she spoke. “Thank you for bringing me along to see Luna. I know it was inconvenient, but I appreciate getting to offer my condolences and to see Patsy, too.”

  Her sincerity had him swallowing hard. He had additional reasons for letting her come along, and she needed to know that. “I wanted you to be able to see Luna, but I also figured that if you were with me, I could keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh,” she said, the single word laced with sadness. “You still think I’m part of this somehow, and you can’t believe what I tell you because you’re still leery of people in my profession.”

  He knew he shouldn’t let his experiences keep him from trusting people, but he was no closer to letting it go now than he had been when he’d met her, and he doubted the prayer he’d uttered at the parking garage was going to change that. He was embarrassed to tell her about that, so he kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the road.

  “Let me share something I tell my clients,” she said. “If you keep believing the lies you tell yourself, you can’t move on. Only when you let go of the lie can you move forward and find what God has in store for you.”

  “You think I’m lying to myself?”

  “Come on, Rick. You’re a smart guy. Do you really believe all counselors are unethical? Granted, you’ve had several bad experiences and have every right to be distrusting, but you can’t apply your experiences to all counselors. I would never believe all soldiers are a bad lot from the few soldiers I worked with who were. That’s not fair to your former profession, and you’re not being fair to my profession.”

  “I…” He heard her, got her, knew she was right, and yet…

  “Some of the hardest issues we have to overcome stem from our childhood,” she continued. “We’re in a formative state where we naturally trust adults and authority figures. We embrace what they say. If they say we’re worthless, then we embed that into our personality and live our life looking for things that prove it out. You were told in counseling that you were wrong to feel the way you do. To trust your father and do as he told you even when you knew it was wrong. If you didn’t comply, you’d be to blame for your continued unhappiness, but all you saw was that another adult let you down. Then your father hits you and your mother supports him. Let down again. When Traci has troubles, your only way of dealing with it is to chalk it up to more people you should be able to trust letting you down. In a way you even think Traci let you down because she considered aborting your child, and then may have ended her life.”

  She paused, maybe waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t know what to say.

  She continued to hold his gaze. “And now you find you have feelings for me, so to stop yourself from being let down again, you make the decision that I can’t be trusted.” She took his hand as he met her gaze. “You can trust me, Rick. I may not be ready for a relationship, but I won’t betray your trust. I won’t expect more from you than you can give. I won’t expect you to be anyone but who you are.”

  “Won’t you?” he asked, hating that he was still suspicious. “Aren’t you asking me to be something else right now?”

  She didn’t speak for a long, awkward moment. “I’m asking you to think about your life. Because whether you know it or not, you’re an amazing man who deserves all the peace and happiness you can find. That’s what I want for you, Rick. That’s what I want.”

  * * *

  Atlanta, Georgia

  1:45 p.m.

  While Rick delivered the evidence samples and the fence post to Brynn and drove the two of them to his family home, Olivia thought about her advice to him. She deserved the same happiness and peace that she wanted for him. Everyone did. And she wouldn’t find happiness or peace by putting limitations on her life and not being open to what God put in front of her. By saying she wouldn’t get involved with a man in the military or who had served in the military, she’d acted like Rick.

  She’d told him to let go of his issues. To stop lying to himself, when she was embracing her own lie. Worse yet, she was a psychologist, and she knew better. And as a Christian, she knew trying to make any major decision without God was foolish and stressful. Peace only came when she put her life in God’s hands.

  Rick pulled up to the main house, and she made a promise to herself. She’d trust God. Trust Him to show her how to move forward. Not take things into her own hands. And that included her growing feelings for Rick.

  He got out and carried their suitcases to the front door. Once she stepped inside the blissfully cool foyer, he closed and carefully locked the door behind them, then double-checked it. His cautiousness reminded her that right now her feelings weren’t important. Not when a killer who Rick was certain would come after her again was still out there. She had to keep her focus on that.

  “Mom,” he called out.

  Olivia waited for a response from Grace or for her to join them, but they were met with silence.

  “Maybe she’s gone out.” His stomach rumbled. “Guess it’s easy to tell I’m hungry. How about you?”

  “It has been a long time since breakfast.”

  “Then let’s go to the kitchen to scrounge up some lunch.”

  “What about our bags?”

  “Leave them here, and we’ll take care of them after lunch.”

  Olivia looked around the spotless foyer. “Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “Sounds like you’re starting to get my point about living in a showplace.” He took off across the foyer without waiting for her to answer. He led her to the back of the house and into a large kitchen that resembled a restaurant kitchen more than one in a h
ome. A spicy aroma filling the space set Olivia’s mouth watering.

  “Ricky, you’re back!” Yolanda bustled across the room to embrace him. She bumped into him hard. A Mack Truck came to Olivia’s mind, but he took the collision in stride, returning her hug, a contented smile on his face.

  Olivia loved seeing his worry evaporate and the tension in his face ease. She’d told him to get over his past, but he had quite a past to get over, and if he decided to try, it would be a hard road.

  Another reason not to get any more involved with him. Right. Putting up your own limitations again. But she had to this time, didn’t she? Her professional experience told her he might never get over his past, and she’d be a fool to get involved with someone carrying so much baggage. But if that was what God willed…

  “What’s that amazing smell?” Rick asked.

  Yolanda pushed back and smiled up at him. “Rosemary chicken. Remember when you used to have fun stripping the leaves off the stem for me?”

  He nodded. “More than that, I remember how amazing it tasted.”

  “Does my heart good to hear that.” A wide smile revealed a missing tooth on the bottom, but somehow it fit her personality. “I suppose you discovered that your mother’s gone out.”

  He nodded. “We skipped lunch, and I was hoping I could rustle something up for us.”

  “You? Of course not, but I’ll be glad to plate up the seafood salad I served for lunch. Won’t take but a minute.” She pointed at stools by a long island that was big enough to be called Long Island.

  “I can help,” Olivia offered.

  “I know you can, and thank you for offering, but it’s my pleasure.”

  Olivia slid onto a padded stool, and Rick joined her. She hoped he would start a conversation, but instead he took out his phone.

  “Got Cesar’s autopsy report from the ME,” he said.

  “Now that’s not something you should be talking about over food.” Yolanda looked up from piling lettuce on chilled plates she’d removed from a refrigerator about the size of Olivia’s entire kitchen. “No wonder you’re not married.”