The Innocent (Will Robie 1)

“Not that we know of. And he wasn’t working with any federal or local police investigations as an informant. But he runs a pawnshop in a bad part of town. Maybe he was laundering dirty money and got his fingers caught in the cookie jar.”

“And they kill his wife and kid too?”

“Maybe as a warning against other future skimmers.”

“Seems a bit much. Particularly since they must’ve known Jane Wind was a Fed and her murder would trigger FBI involvement. I mean, why bring yourself the extra grief?”

“Thank you for your faith in the crime-busting prowess of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“Time of death?” he asked.

“About three days, the ME said.”

“No one noticed him missing? His ex?”

“Like I said, they had joint custody. It was her week. They apparently didn’t communicate much. He worked the pawnshop alone. Maybe he didn’t have many friends.”

“Okay, but this all could have waited until tomorrow.”

“The gun we found near the bombed-out bus was the same gun that fired that round into Jane Wind’s floorboard.”

“I know. You already told me that.” Robie picked up his cup and took another sip.

Never should have fired the round. Never should have lost my weapon.

“And the kill round for Wind and her son?” he asked.

“Different weapon entirely. Rifle round. Came through the window like we speculated.”

“Again, all of this could have come over the phone.”

“The rifle round was pretty special.”

“How so?”

“Looks to be military-grade ammo,” she said flatly.

Robie took another sip of coffee. Though his heart was beating a little faster, his hand did not shake even slightly.

“What was the specific round? Could they tell or was it too deformed?”

“It was jacketed. Came out in fine shape.” She looked at her notes. “It was a 175-grain Sierra MatchKing Hollow Point Boat Tail. That specific enough for you?”

“Lots of that kind of ammo around.”

“Yeah, but our gun expert said this was different. Special Ball, long-range, and slight residue of a modified extruded propellant. I’m not sure what all that means, quite frankly. But he speculated it was U.S. military. Sound right to you?”

“Our guys use that ammo. But so do the Hungarians, the Israelis, the Japanese, and the Lebanese.”

“You’re just full of gun facts. I’m impressed.”

“I’ll give you some more. The U.S. military uses the M24 Weapon System. Our target was over three hundred meters from the shooter with a single pane of glass in between. And weather conditions last night were fine with very little wind. The round you’re talking about is also called the 7.62 MK 316 MOD O. The components of the 175-grain round are the Sierra projectile, Federal Cartridge Company match cartridge case, Gold Medal match primer, and the modified extruded propellant. That round leaves the barrel at over twenty-six hundred foot-pounds per second. At three hundred meters, the Sierra would have plenty of juice to clear a child’s skull with enough kill power to end another life in close proximity.”

Robie had really been thinking out loud. But when he saw the look on Vance’s face he wished he had kept these technical observations to himself.

“You know a lot about sniper stuff?” she asked.

“I’m with the DOD. But the Sierra ordnance is also available to the public. Too bad we don’t have the casing.”

“Oh, but we do. The shooter didn’t police his brass. Or at least if he did he wasn’t successful.”

“Where was it? I didn’t see it in the room the sniper was set up in, and I was looking for it.”

“Crack in the baseboard. The casing was ejected, hit the concrete, probably bounced and rolled right into the crack. Completely invisible. The sniper was operating in the dark. No electricity in that building. Even if he tried to look for it before making his getaway he wouldn’t have spotted it. My guys only found it later, when they were on their hands and knees with laser lights.

Robie licked his lips. “Okay, let me ask you something. Maybe you know the answer, maybe you don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Was the casing shiny or dull?”

“I don’t know. They found it after I had already left. But one phone call can answer that.”

“Make the call.”

“It’s important?”

“I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”

She made the call, asked the question, and received the answer.

“Dull, not shiny. In fact my guy said a little discolored. Do you think it was old ammo?”

Robie finished his coffee.

She tapped her fingernail impatiently against the tabletop. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Robie. I made the call. Got the answer. Now tell me why it’s significant.”

“The military doesn’t use seconds or rejects or old ammo. But manufacturers charge extra to buff up the casing to make it look shiny and pretty. The Army could give a crap about that; it has nothing to do with operational performance. A dull bullet flies as straight and true as a shiny one. And the Army buys millions of rounds, so it saves them a ton of money to go without the extra buffing. Now, the civilian rounds are typically shiny because those folks don’t mind paying extra.”

“So then we’re definitely looking at military-grade ammo?”

“And that makes things more complicated.”

“Is that all you can say?” she said in an incredulous tone.

“What do you want me to say?” he replied evenly.

“If this is a U.S. military hit on a government employee then this is not just complicated. This is a shitstorm. That’s what I want you to say.”

“Okay, this is a potential shitstorm. Satisfied?”

“By the way my boss was royally pissed that you shot your way into that pawnshop. He said he was going to be talking to DCIS.”

“Good. Maybe they’ll pull me from the case.”

“Where the hell are you coming from, Robie? Do you even want to be an investigator?”

“Are we done here?” He started to get up.

She looked up at him. “I don’t know, are we?”

He left.

She followed him outside.

Vance put a hand on his shoulder. “Actually, I’m not done with you.”

Robie grabbed her arm, pulled hard, and they both fell behind some trash cans. An instant later a barrage of bullets shattered the front window of Donnelly’s.

CHAPTER

33

ROBIE ROLLED, LIFTED his gun from its holster, and aimed through a crevice between the toppled trash cans. His target was a black SUV with the rear side window down a crack. The muzzle of an MP-5 submachine gun was visible there and was currently spewing out a hail of bullets.

Right before the shots had started Robie had pushed Vance down and behind him. When she tried to rise up, he slammed her back down.