David Baldacci - The Innocent

“Why?”

“Why kill an infant? He can’t testify against you.”

“They had no problem killing the other son,” countered Robie.

“Been thinking about that. Look at the hole in the window and then look at the bed. If Wind had grabbed up her other son, maybe to protect him against the intruder, he might have been on the left side-in other words, facing the window.”

Robie finished this thought for her. “Shooter fires, really only aiming to hit Wind, but the shot hits the kid first and then her. Maybe he intended to kill them both, or at least wanted to kill Wind and if the kid was in the way, too bad.”

“That’s how I see it,” agreed Vance. “So that sets up an interesting possibility.”

“Such as?”

“How’s this for a theory? Intruder comes in, just a standard burglary. He doesn’t mean to but somehow awakens Wind and her son. He fires a shot into the bed to keep them quiet. At the same time, unbeknownst to him or Wind, of course, a shooter is targeting her from that other building at the exact same time. He fires, killing her and her son. The intruder is stunned. He could have ducked down, thinking he might be shot next. He sees the other kid in the carrier, grabs it up, and during his escape drops him off at another apartment. Then he gets away.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences,” said Robie.

She smiled weakly. “I know. It’s like the mother of all coincidences, isn’t it?”

It’s also exactly what happened, thought Robie.

They were in the other building, from where the kill shot had come. It was abandoned, filthy, full of junk, easy to get into and out of. In other words, it was perfect.

Robie and Vance had looked through several rooms that could have served as the shooter’s sanctuary. When they entered the fifth one Robie said, “This is it.”

Vance froze and, hands on hips, looked at him. “Why?”

Robie walked over to one of the windows. “Window is open a notch. None of the others were. The sight line is dead on.” He pointed at the windowsill. “And the dust has been disturbed. Check the pattern. Muzzle mark.” He pointed at a dark stain the size of a dime farther along on the sill. “Residue from the discharge.” He looked down at the concrete floor. “Knee imprints in the dirt. He used the sill as his center of support, lined up his shot, and took it.”

He knelt down, slipped out his gun, took aim through the window, lining up his iron sights with the window with the hole in it across the way. “There’s a rack of lights on that taller building on the opposite side of the street where Wind lived. At night those lights would be on. A shooter would be looking right at them and that would screw his shot into the fourth floor over there. Except not from this spot. The angle is perfect.” He rose, put his gun away. “This is it.”

Vance looked impressed. “You have special forces in your background?”

“If I did I couldn’t tell you.”

“Come on. I know lots of former Delts and SEALs.”

“I’m sure you do.”

She looked out the window. “I also know some people at DCIS. I texted them about you. None of them have heard of you.”

“I just came back into the country,” said Robie, transitioning into his cover story. “If you really want to check me out, call DCIS. I can give you my direct superior’s contact info.”

“Okay. And I will,” she said. “So my burglar theory and separate shooter theory looks sound. I can’t see how the guy in the apartment last night could have known about the shooter over here.”

You’re right, I didn’t, thought Robie.

Vance continued. “But now the question becomes, why kill Wind? What was she working on for your people? I’ll need to know that.”

“I’ll check with my folks. But it could be something she stumbled onto,” said Robie.

“Stumbled onto? How does that make sense?”

“Not saying it does. Only saying it has to be considered. Just because she worked for DCIS doesn’t mean that was the reason she was killed.”

“Okay, but forgive me if I take as my working hypothesis that her death was related to her work.”

Robie said, “That’s your prerogative. Has her ex been notified?”

“In the process. Her son is with Social Services for now.”

“What’s her former husband do?”

“You don’t know?” she said in surprise.

“Not without looking at the file, no. I was just assigned to this case, Agent Vance. Cut me a little slack.”

“Okay, sorry. Rick Wind. He’s retired military but he has another job. We’re in the process of tracking him down now.”

“In the process of tracking him down? He’d have to have seen the news. He should’ve called you by now.”

“Believe me, Robie, I thought of that.”

“You have his home address?”

“Maryland. My agents have already been there. It’s empty.”

“You said he has a job. Where does he work?”

“He owns a pawnshop in northeast D.C. Bladensburg Road. Place called the Premium Pawnshop. Not the greatest part of town, but then you don’t usually find pawnshops next to the Ritz, do you?”

“Premium Pawnshop? Catchy. Anybody tried to reach him there?”

“No one’s there either. All locked up.”

“So where is the guy?”

“If I knew that I would’ve told you.”

“If he’s not at home, and he’s not at work, and he hasn’t called the police, then there are only a few possibilities.”

“He either doesn’t watch TV, listen to the radio, or have any friends. Or he killed his soon-to-be ex-wife and kid and is on the run. Or else he’s dead too.”

“That’s right. But you really think the guy killed his ex and kid using a sniper rifle? Domestic issues like that are usually face-to-face.”

“Well, he was former military. And they were getting divorced.”

“So it was not amicable?”

“I don’t know. I’m making inquiries. Maybe you can help on that score. She’s with your agency after all.”

He ignored this. “Jane Wind have any family in the area that you know of?”

She looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure you two are from the same agency?”

“It’s a big agency.”

“Not that big. FBI dwarfs it.”

“FBI dwarfs pretty much everybody. So, family in the area?”

“None. Neither apparently does her hubby. At least that we can find. But I’ve been working this case for less than eight hours.”

Robie said, “Have you searched his home and the pawnshop?”

“Home, yes. Nothing that helped us. Pawnshop next. You care to tag along?”

“Absolutely.”

The Bucars pulled up in front of the Premium Pawnshop and Robie and Vance stepped from one, while two other FBI agents climbed out of their vehicle. There were bars across the front door and windows of the pawnshop. The door had three serious locks. The businesses next to it were gutted, with blackened plywood nailed against their fronts. Trash littered the streets and Robie spotted a couple of druggies stumbling along.

Vance sent the other two agents to check the rear of the building while she and Robie approached the front. She shaded her eyes and peered inside. “Can’t see anything.”

“Can you knock down the door or do you need a warrant?”

“Rick Wind’s house was less problematic. We suspected he might be hurt. This place is obviously closed.”

“He could be inside, hurt or dead,” said Robie, joining her at the front of the shop and peering between the bars into the darkened interior. “That should be enough.”

“And if we find evidence he committed the crime and his defense lawyer gets it thrown out because our search was determined to be unlawful under the Fourth Amendment?”