Текст книги "Заговор мечей"
Автор книги: Джейн Doy Press
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“You know, I think even Stein could probably out think this Sargeant At least he knows how to follow procedure.”
“Sure, after I yelled at him yesterday.”
“You’re right. Maybe Leonard trained the guy.” Alex was watching as David’s anger finally started winding down. “You know, I haven’t even met the guy, and I don’t like him.”
“I think I remember meeting him. I didn’t like him either.”
David took a breath and let his forehead rest against the wall. His eyes were closed, and he waited a moment before he exhaled. When he did, he looked at Alex, and she could see he was back in control of himself.
“Okay, Alex. Now what?”
“I think we wait for Wister.” She shook her blond head. “I don’t know what exactly happened in the parking lot, but at least this answers a few questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like how the guy got into the ball room.”
“Oh.” David waited a moment. “Want to tell me?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Come on, David. Stein said the guys showed Leonard FBI credentials. If the Sarge wasn’t lying about that, then it’s obvious they used those ID’s to not only get the car in the right place, but to get the shooter into the building.”
“No, Alex, that’s not possible. They might have been good enough for the parking lot, but they would have had to run the ID through the machine at the checkpoint. That would have stopped them.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh, come on, Alex, the new ID’s are practically fool proof! They can’t be forged, and they have to match the correct fingerprint. Otherwise the machine throws an alert.”
“Okay, David, then how else did this guy get a gun into the ball room? Did he take it through the metal detector?”
“No way. They were all calibrated less than two hours before the party.”
“Then how?”
“I don’t know, maybe someone slipped him the gun inside.”
“Okay, how did they get it in?”
Alex pinned him to the wall with her glare. David could tell that she’d already reached her conclusion, and was trying to make him follow her logical road.
“Maybe one of the kitchen staff brought it in?”
Alex shook her head. “Nope. All kitchen staff were wanded before entering the room. They had to have all metal in sight of the officer scanning them.” Wanding referred to being scanned with a hand held metal detector, and David knew that it was quite effective if used properly. “And if you’re going to say someone there screwed up, you better be ready to argue with Ken on that, ‘cause he was a part of that team.”
“So, maybe a police officer gave it to him?”
“Fine. You go tell Captain Davies that one of his officers concealed a weapon, then passed it to the assassin once he got into the room.”
David sighed, knowing he’d been trapped. “No. There’s no proof of that either.”
“That’s right. All we really know, David, is that two guys were supposedly flashing FBI badges. Personally, I’d like to clear that up before we go accusing Philadelphia’s finest.”
“Right. So what now?”
“Like I said, we wait for Wister. We can find out from him where Sargeant Leonard is, and what he told the Lieutenant. Then I want to check the ID machine, and take a reading of all badges read last night.”
“You think Leonard was telling the truth?”
“I don’t know,” Alex answered. Her face was grim. “But if he wasn’t I’ll have his badge before noon.”
************************************************************************
Cliff Jackson slapped the manila folder down on his desk. He stood and began pacing, still directing his voice toward the speaker phone on his desk.
“Let me get this straight, Agent Reis. You had three security cameras, two walk-through metal detectors, over twenty local police officers, and four – no five, FBI agents. And this guy just walked into the room, shot Dabir in the back of the head and walked out?”
There was silence from the other end, and then Agent Wu’s muffled voice came over the speaker. “Well, no, sir, he didn’t walk out, he ran.”
“You find this funny, Agent Wu?”
Alex’s strained voice answered. “No, sir, there’s nothing funny in this at all. The two of us are tired, and David’s a little … punchy.” There was a muttered “sorry” from David in the background, and then Alex continued.
“As far as the hitman is concerned, I’d have to say, sir, that we covered all the bases except for one.”
“And that was?”
“The guy had an FBI badge and ID.”
Cliff was silent for a long moment.
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes, sir. Not only was it seen by a member of the local police force, but it was used to gain access to the banquet room.”
“Shit. You’re right. That was unexpected. Fuck.” Cliff returned to his seat and opened the folder he’d thrown on the desk. “It says here, though, that you had the new ID machine. Weren’t you running the cards through?”
Back in Philadelphia, Alex tensed. This was going to be difficult for her boss to hear.
“Yes, Cliff, we were using the new machine. All ID’s were checked for microchips – and they all had them.”
There was only silence from the speaker phone in front of Alex and David.
“Agent Reis, that’s not possible. Those chips cannot be forged.”
“Well, sir, either that’s not true, or … “
“Or there’s a rogue agent out there, sir, ” David concluded the statement for her.
It took Cliff a moment to process this. “What was the name on the ID, did you find out?”
“The name was Watson, Perry Watson. Registry number, 4568935771-6.”
There were several expletives from the speaker.
“Sir?”
“That’s not an FBI registry number, Alex.”
It was Alex’s turn to stare in shock at the phone. “Then what is it?”
“It’s CIA.”
David leaned forward, frowning. “What the hell is the CIA doing assassinating senatorial candidates?”
“Good question, David. I’ll run right over and ask them.” The two agents could hear the sarcasm in his voice. “All right, Reis, what else do you have?”
“Well, it looks like Mr. Watson was not acting alone. We don’t have the name of the other guy, but we know that there was a second man, a driver.”
“Was he found?”
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, he was in the same condition as the hitman. Burned beyond recognition.”
“I don’t get it, Reis. Who would have wanted these guys dead? Besides us, I mean?”
“I can’t tell you, sir. Maybe they wanted more money, or maybe they’d become a liability?”
“In that case, why go to the trouble of rigging the bomb? Why not just kill them later?”
“Possibly to make a point, or to present us with an obvious dead end?”
“Then why not just disable the car and let them shoot it out with the cops?”
Alex rubbed her forehead. “I’ve been thinking about that, sir, and the one thing that keeps coming up is that they didn’t want to chance our taking either of them alive. They wanted these guys dead, not in prison.”
“Good point, Reis. But if this unknown agent was indeed CIA, then you’re saying the CIA killed its own operatives just to keep them from talking, after they had one of them sign into your little party using his own ID. Does that make sense to you?”
“I never said any of this made sense, sir. And if the CIA is indeed involved, I don’t expect anything to ever make sense.”
They could hear a chuckle from the phone.
“Another good point. All right, you two. I want your reports by Monday at nine a.m. Got it? I know that doesn’t give you a lot of time, but we’ve got a team meeting on this at ten, and I want a chance to at least glance over them. Finish up there, then get your butts back down here. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” He paused. “And Alex?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over this. You took all the appropriate precautions. Nobody could have predicted that the killer would have the ID to get in. I know it doesn’t help right now, but it wasn’t your fault. Do what you can, come home, and let’s nail the fuckers behind this.”
Alex was silent a moment longer. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
“Safe flight, you two.”
David reached over and turned the phone off. There was a sudden quiet in the hotel suite. Then David yawned.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you need sleep.”
“Hey, get serious, we both need sleep, Reis.”
“I know.” Alex looked at her watch. “Tell you what. Our flight leaves at 9:30 this evening. We’ll sleep for four hours, be up around one. The autopsy for the shooter is at two-thirty, so we can make that and maybe still have time to meet with Price and Keller.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call Ken and let him know.”
“Tell him we’ll meet here after the autopsies. That usually takes at least a few hours, so tell him about five thirty.”
“How ‘bout I bring caffeine and lunch to you at 1:00?”
“That’d be great.”
“I just hope you’re up, Alex.”
“I’ll be up. I’m not saying I’ll be coherent, but I’ll be up.”
***********************************************************************
The phone rang at exactly twelve-thirty, and Alex leaned over to pick it up. She listened for a second to the buzz that said her wake up calls had started. Then she put the phone back on the hook and fell back onto her pillow.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time Alex didn’t even open her eyes. She simply picked up the receiver and dropped it back to its base.
Five minutes later the alarm went off. Alex rolled off the bed and dragged herself to the dresser. She slapped at the clock until it was finally silent, then sat on the floor, knees against her chest, arms around her knees, her head resting on her forearms.
At precisely one o’clock there was a loud knock from the corridor. Alex stumbled as she got to her feet, finally opening the door after fiddling with the locks for several moments. She stood aside as David, looking rumpled but alert, entered. He was carrying his briefcase and some folders.
“Morning, Alex. Ready to go back to work?”
David dropped his briefcase on the small table, then turned to meet the sleepy gaze of his partner. He barely stifled the chuckle that threatened to erupt. It was obvious that Alex had not woken up yet, and she stood glaring at him with eyes half-lidded. She wore only a pair of sweats and a tank top, and her hair stuck straight up as if at least that part of her was at attention. For some reason, the sight reminded David of a fuzzy-haired troll. He kept that observation to himself, realizing that, at least for the moment, his partner would not be receptive to his unique sense of humor.
Alex, for her part, kept up the stony silence as she flopped gracelessly into the chair beside the small hotel table. Her eyes stayed on David, blinking rapidly. She was about to ask him if he hadn’t forgotten something when there was a knock at the door.
It was room service, with the promised lunch. Alex let the smell of hamburgers and french fries fill her lungs. She reached for one of the cokes that sat on the tray. After downing half of it in a few swift gulps, she leaned back in her chair watching David sign the check.
The two of them had an agreement between them. On days when they had to be up early, David would present himself at her place at the appointed time, knowing Alex wouldn’t be close to wakefulness. He’d bring caffeine, and sometimes donuts – or, at times like this, a full meal. In return, Alex would do him the courtesy of not speaking until she had food and caffeine happily floating in her body. That way, Alex received the necessities that brought her alert, and David could avoid the foul temper that plagued Alex while waking up.
It didn’t take long until both agents were tucking into their meals. As they did so, Alex took the opportunity to really look at her partner. His short black hair, which he kept about the length of his finger, was never out of place. Clean shaven, as most Asian American men are, he looked like he’d just gotten out of college, though Alex knew he was much older, nearly five years her senior. His eyes, deep and black, could show their age and experience when David let down his guard. It wasn’t something he did often – normally only around his partner and his wife.
Alex remembered how uncomfortable it had been when Miri, David’s wife, found out her husband’s FBI partner was another female. It had taken several long talks between the two before she came to grips with the situation. After Miri had adjusted to the idea of a female agent as her husband’s partner, David and Alex had let her in on the secret: Alex was gay.
At first, Miri had looked shocked. Then she had smiled, and just said, “Cool.” It had been Alex’s turn to be surprised.
Alex could remember when she’d first been approached about joining the FBI, and how worried she’d been about their reaction to her sexual orientation. After graduating from Northwestern University with a Bachelor’s in Sociology she’d had to choose between work and graduate school. Finally choosing Duke University, she’d graduated in 1994 from their Master’s in Sociology program. Her final thesis, on hate crimes and their perpetrators, had been enough to place her back in the running for the Academy, which she had entered in January of 1995.
Although physically small, Alex had worked hard all her life to make up for what others saw as her only handicap. At five feet, five inches, she was the shortest person in her class at the Academy, and she’d had to take quite a few jokes from her fellow students. After holding her own in most of the physical tests, Alex had finally gained the full respect of her classmates during an inter-Academy kickboxing tournament. She’d gone through the early rounds with no problem, reaching the final against a man nearly a foot taller than she was. Although being beaten, with a split lip, a cut over her eye, and a cracked rib, she’d managed to stay on her feet for the entire match– the only one of the champ’s opponents to do so. After that, there were no more wisecracks about her size.
She’d gone on to a job in Records and Research, spending two years helping track criminals on paper. Every six months she had put in for transfer to Special Agent status, but it had taken until late ninety-seven for her to be awarded the position of field agent. David Wu, who graduated from the Academy two years ahead of her, had been named her partner. The two of them had worked together before; David and his former partner Kevin had met Alex when searching for clues in a file cabinet seized in a drug raid. Using Alex’s combination of logic and intuition to make sense of the patterns in the coded files, the two agents had been able to join with DEA agents to take down a drug ring operating in Chicago. This had resulted in promotions for both of them. Kevin had been promoted to a desk position in the Chicago office, while David went from Chicago to Washington. Knowing Alex wanted field work, David had requested her as his new partner. In the four years the two agents had known each other, there had been no one foolish enough to cast aspersions on Alex because of her ‘secret’ sexual orientation.
The secret wasn’t really a secret, she supposed. It wasn’t like she was in the closet. Cliff, her immediate supervisor, was well aware of her preferences, as was her partner, his former partner, the desk chief, and all the guys in her class at the Academy. She had even been acknowledged as a lesbian by a senior agent with thirty years experience. He didn’t like it, thought “all that queer stuff” was perverted, but he did respect her for her talents and her abilities. Alex’s favorite memory of her time in the FBI records department was hearing this legendary agent tell someone else that Alex was “a damn fine agent – even if she is a dyke.” Even David had had to grin about it.
After that, her sexuality had never been an issue. Cliff had even called her into his office, right after she’d been assigned to the hate crimes unit, and told her that he didn’t care. As long as she kept her preferences and her politics out of her career, he’d have no problem with her. Since then there’d been a few comments, but nothing serious. Mostly, it had been local police who’d given Alex grief.
Alex was brought back to the present by David clearing his throat. He had finished his burger and was slowly eating his fries, dipping them first in the pool of ketchup on his plate. He had noticed that his partner seemed far away. Normally she ate as quickly, and as much, as he did, her energy level not allowing her small portions or long slow meals. Once awake, Alex was almost never still.
But she was as still as she could be right now, and David watched her quietly. He was worried about her. In their years as partners he had never thought anything would dampen the enthusiasm, or the spirits of his idealistic partner. No matter what kind of situation they had been in, she’d always been ready to give him a brilliant grin, or a thumbs up, to let him know she could handle it. But in the last few weeks, those grins had faded in frequency and wattage.
He knew Miri was worried about Alex as well. They both considered the younger woman a close friend, and they’d had her over for dinner often. She’d been holding one of Miri’s hands when the couple’s daughter had been born. To them, she was more a member of the family than simply a colleague of David’s.
David and Miri had celebrated their daughter’s first birthday just before he and Alex had left for Philadelphia. Although Alex seemed the same as ever on the surface, her friends could see the tension that flowed just under the skin. After the party, Miri had asked David if Alex was all right, and David hadn’t known what to say.
He did know that this case was getting to her. The assassination task force had been formed in November of 1999 after several left-wing politicians had been killed. Five months before, in early June, the leader of the Rights Of Humanity Campaign had been gunned down without warning on the streets of New York. The killing had been professional, done in the middle of a crowd. Everyone had first placed the murder in the realm of anti-gay sentiment, since the RoHC was a gay rights organization. But six weeks later, the new head of the Regional African-American Caucus, Max Rhodes, was gunned down in the middle of a political rally in a suburb of Baltimore. A letter had then appeared in the Washington Post, claiming the killings had been the opening shots of a war between “patriots” and “the Zionist government pigs.” The letter also had a list of other potential victims, and it guaranteed that at least ten would be killed. Two of those on the list had already been killed. That brought the total to four. Reginald Dabir, a black candidate for Pennsylvania Senator, had been number five.
The FBI had created a task force to look into the death of Max Rhodes. After the letter, the scope of their investigation was broadened and Alex had been assigned to the task force. She was, after all, an expert in hate crimes. Even if the official position was that the killings were not the work of any known organization, they had wanted to cover all the bases.
The task force had warned every person mentioned in the letter. They had offered protection and secure locations for individuals to hide. Several had taken their offer. Others, like Dabir, had chosen to ignore the warnings, up to a point. They carried on with their everyday lives, with extra security.
Cliff Jackson, head of the task force, had sent three of the agents under his command up to Philadelphia to protect Dabir. Dabir had been killed. David knew he was feeling guilty about it; he felt like a failure. He could imagine that Alex was feeling even worse. This had been the first time she was assigned as SAIC, Special Agent In Charge, on a case. Not only was Dabir dead, but so was the person responsible. They had few clues to go on. The situation was very depressing, and David could almost see the weight on Alex’s shoulders.
But, try as he might, he couldn’t see it in her face once she put on her determination. David knew he often had a guarded look in his eyes, but at least people could see some emotion in his. Alex’s eyes gave no clue as to what was going on inside her head. They showed only that she was alive – nothing more.
David was shaken out of his thoughts by the sudden sound of Alex’s glass hitting the table with a solid thump. Looking into those green pools of hers, he saw the gameface he’d grown so used to. The food and caffeine had done their job; Alex had officially woken up.
“Are we ready, David?”
“Let’s hit it.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s twenty after. Do you want to head to the morgue now, or … “
“Well, first, I need to jump in the shower for at least a minute. You know you’re the only one that gets to see me like this.”
David grinned. “I feel privileged.”
“You should. Then, I want to check in with Ken about the car. Maybe he’s found something there to give us a lead.”
Alex could see David’s doubt. “I don’t know, Alex. That thing was pretty well fried. I mean, they scraped those guys out of the car with a spatula and a brush. What do you think we’ll find?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ve got this feeling about it. Also, I had an idea. You remember what Leonard said, about how the guys were dressed?”
“Yeah, I remember. They were both dressed in suits, with coats and hats. So? It is February, and it is cold.”
“Right, but was this Watson wearing a coat or a hat when he shot Dabir?”
David’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Un-huh. Did he stop in the hall way and put them on?”
David gave a snort of laughter.
“So what happened to them? He didn’t leave them in the car, Leonard said he was wearing both items when he entered the building. He wasn’t wearing them when he left the building. Where are they?”
“Good thinking, Alex.”
“Thank you.”
“Told you sleep was good for you.”
“Shut up and hand me the phone.”
Chapter Two
There was a knock just as Alex was pulling her boots on. David opened the door to greet Agent Rick Price, one half of the partnership from the Philadelphia office.
“Rick, what’s up? Where’s Keller?”
“Getting some sleep. He still gets headaches.” Chad Keller, who’d been an FBI agent for nearly fifteen years, was the partner of Rick Price, one of the youngest FBI agents. Price, at 24, had only been with the Bureau for a year. After getting stellar marks at the Academy, he’d been sent to Philadelphia to play sidekick to the veteran Keller, who’d lost his partner to early retirement. Keller had taken a bullet to the head in the line of duty, and everyone knew it still affected him. He would be retiring later that year.
“Did everything get to headquarters allright?”
“Got a message that everything was received, and they started on the photos already. We should have them in hand before you leave tonight.”
“Good.”
“Oh, Alex, something from Lieutenant Wister.” He held out a folder. Alex flipped through it, finding several artists renderings of two different men.
“What are these?”
“Wister had Sargeant Leonard work with a sketch artist. These are the guys that presented themselves with the false IDs. This one,” he pointed at one of the pictures, “was the shooter. The other was the driver. Since none of the cameras picked up the driver, this is all we have to go on. Unless something comes up at the autopsy.”
“That’s what we were hoping. ” Alex stared at the faces of the two men, then handed them to David for his assessment.
“Yeah, that’s a good likeness of the guy I saw. Couldn’t see the driver, so I can’t tell.” He handed them back, and Alex slipped them into her briefcase.
“Wister is circulating these, right?”
“Yeah, at least among the police. Anyone who interacted with either guy, ever, is supposed to report to him immediately. They decided to wait until the pictures come in from Washington to release them to the press. Davies said he’d rather do it all at the same press conference than have to go through two of them.”
Alex groaned. “Great. He’s gonna be getting bad publicity from the start.”
“What do you mean?”
David answered. “Someone is going to talk. They’ll tell the press that the police had these sketches within twelve hours of Dabir’s death, and they didn’t release them. The press will immediately start questioning why they weren’t released, and you can bet the charge will be that there was a cover-up.”
“Or racism. Or that the FBI killed Dabir. Or some other such garbage. And unfortunately, even though Davies will be the one getting most of the dirt flung at him, some of it will miss —”
“– and hit us,” David finished for his partner. “Jeez, I’m really glad we’re leaving tonight.”
Alex looked up at Price. “Did you get any sleep yet, Rick?”
The young man shook his head. “No. I figured I’d stay on it until Chad’s up. Then I’ll get a nap.”
“How long do you think you can go?”
“I don’t know. But as long as they keep the coffee coming, I should make it till I have to drive you guys to the airport.”
“Yeah, and fall asleep on the way.” Alex kept her eyes on his. “As SAIC on this case, you are hereby ordered to get some sleep. Hell, if you want you can even crash here; David and I will be gone for several hours.”
“That’s okay —”
“Uh, Price?” Rick turned to David, who was waiting next to the door. “I wouldn’t argue with her. You’ll lose.” He chuckled at the young man’s indecision. “Besides, you think better with sleep. Isn’t that right, Agent Reis?”
Price glanced back at Alex, surprised to find her blushing.
“Don’t start, David.”
David’s grin got wider. “See, our fearless leader over there was going on adrenaline and instinct for most of the night, and we didn’t come up with much. But, give her a few hours of sleep, and she’s been brainstorming ever since. Even got us our first solid physical lead.”
“Really?” Price sat down and faced Alex. “Wanna share? Or is this a Washington secret?”
David could clearly see the sudden lines of tension in Alex. Price noticed it, too, and thought back over his last statement. He groaned.
“Damn, Alex, I’m sorry. Either Keller and the others are wearing off on me, or I have been up for too long. I didn’t mean it to sound the way it did.”
Alex took a breath, and ordered her voice not to shake. “It’s okay, Rick. Sometimes things can get a little strained with a case like this. Everybody’s tense, and things get said. It’s no big deal.” But it was to her. “Anyway, the evidence isn’t really that great. I just remembered that the shooter had a coat on when he entered the building, but didn’t have it when he left. After a few phone calls, we found it. He had checked it into the coat room. It was still there this morning. We’re pretty sure it’s his because it matches the one Leonard said he was wearing.” She pointed to a package sitting on the bed. “After your nap, you can take it to the lab. David and I would drop it off ourselves, but we’re not going near the office, or the lab. We already checked pockets, and wrote down the labels and such. I don’t think it will actually amount to much, but it might.”
Price got up to look at the sealed package, which was tagged with the initials of both Agent Reis and Agent Wu. He looked up at Alex. “You’re not taking it to Washington?”
“You want us to? I thought it should be looked at down here first. Then if you want to send it to Headquarters for further analysis, it wouldn’t hurt.”
He nodded. “I’ll get it to the lab right away.”
“No. It will keep until you get some sleep. I want you to get it there safely, and right now, you look like you couldn’t drive a shopping cart safely.” She grinned at him, pleased to see the sheepish smile on his tired face. “We’ll be gone several hours. Make sure your cel-phone is on. And if you and Keller are free about five-thirty or six, meet us back here. We’ll all meet one more time before David and I go back to D.C.”
“Sounds good.” He paused. “Isn’t Ken going back with you?”
“No. He’s going to stay here, and try to cover any loose ends. He might fly back in a day or so, or he might stay for a couple weeks. Depends on what he finds.”
“You think there’s that much for him to find?”
“I don’t know. But he’s the expert, and if he can figure out how the bomb was made, it might get us closer to who made the bomb. Then we’ll be half a step closer to who killed Dabir.”
Price nodded, and watched as Alex and David left the room. David took one last look back before closing the door.
“Get some sleep, Price. We promise, we won’t solve the case before you wake up.”
*******************************************************
David drove them to the police impound lot. Connected to the lot was a garage that housed the vehicle lab. It wasn’t really a lab, but the location where vehicles involved in crimes were examined. They entered through a side door after showing their ID. A technician in blue led them to a blackened shell of a car. He pointed at the legs of a person that were poking out from under the vehicle near the front wheels.
“Hey, Ken, you got a minute?”
Agent Thomas slid out from under the car. He was dressed in coveralls similar to the tech that had just left them. Grease and soot coated most of his front, and he had to pull a pair of rubber gloves off his hands before pulling off the mask that covered of his face.
“Didn’t think I’d see you before tonight. Skipping the autopsy?”
“No, we’ve got a few minutes, and I wanted to check in with you. Anything new you can tell me?”
David, who had disappeared with the tech, reappeared with a bottle of water.
“Here, Ken, I thought you could use this. God, it’s hot in here.”
“Thanks, Dave. Yeah. Nobody’s allowed to wear their regular clothes when working in here. Not that you’d want to; you never know what you might get on them. But since you can only wear your boxers and your overalls, they have to keep it a bit warmer. Then you add in the machines, and the lights…”
“And you get a lot of heat.”
They all shared a grin, then Ken turned serious. “Well, I’m still waiting for a call about the ballistics on those guns. The only thing I can tell you with any certainty is that both were Sig-Sauers, twenty-two caliber.”
“Standard assassin’s weapon.”
“Yeah. One had a suppresser; I haven’t seen the report so I don’t know which body that came off of, but I’m betting it’s your murder weapon.”
“Any possibilites of serial numbers?” David had pulled out his notebook and was quickly jotting notes.
