by Kal Spriggs
“Looks like he blew his brains out to me,” the pilot muttered.
“It’s meant to, but the man pulling the trigger was in a hurry and botched his angles,” the MP explained. “See these wounds up here?” Khadem, apparently oblivious to the gore and mess, pointed to a set of smaller holes, just above the gaping wound where the hollowpoint had exited. “Those are entrance wounds, gentlemen – someone shot him in the back of the head with a needler. Once he was dead, they started positioning him to make it look like a suicide – only they realized we were on our way and rushed it.”
“If they’d got the angle right, the first wounds would have been obliterated, and we would probably have written it off as a suicide,” the Marine finished. “But someone botched it – I’d say an amateur with a professional’s tool and game plan.”
“Liago’s tool, Liago’s plan?” Roberts asked quietly. “That would explain the amateur.”
“Possible,” Khadem replied. “I’ll need more time to examine the scene, see if the station’s internal sensors picked up anything that wasn’t wiped.”
“I think we’re missing a question here,” Stanford said slowly, wiping the horrifying image of his old boss, the man who’d made his life living hell for two years, from his implants. “I thought whatever the hell was going on here had Larson in charge. But if Larson was running things, who shot him?
“And why?”
To read more of Space Carrier Avalon, go to http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ZO92TKG !
And for even more great books, go to
www.henchmanpress.com!