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Thirty-Five

Arlington, Virginia

Friday, October 25th, 2:15 PM Eastern Standard Time

The victim was shot in the head with a handgun, execution style,” Herrera said, standing with Kelly and Jack over Marsha Doyle’s body, which was supine on the floor not too far inside her front door. Blood smears showed the body had been dragged farther into the apartment so the shooter could close it inside.

“She answered her door and got a bullet to the head for her troubles,” Kelly lamented, though she’d seen far worse crime scenes than this one.

CSIs were busy working over Marsha’s apartment and around her body. The medical examiner hadn’t arrived yet but had been called.

“It would also seem that the shooter knew Marsha by sight,” Kelly reasoned. “There’s no indication of hesitation, just cold calculation. The sniper knew that Marsha had what they needed, and they didn’t hesitate to act and take it.”

“I’d have to agree with that,” Herrera said. “So far, we haven’t found her keycard or her work ID. I have officers canvassing the building to see if anyone was seen hanging around. We don’t have a narrower window for time of death, but we know that she got off work at eleven Wednesday night, and the sniper was at the Colonial Hotel at six Thursday morning. The officers are working with that time frame.”

Kelly turned to Jack. “Our unsub is very organized and acting faster. They’re becoming more comfortable with killing as they go along and are even willing to take out others to accomplish their end goal. There might be other victims we’re not yet aware of, too.” The latter was a disheartening thought, but if she was against a hired gun before, she truly was now. There was also the knowledge they had after talking to Jane Powell. Reid had known the woman—the sniper—staring at him. She turned to Jack. “Definitely not the work of a hired gun, and that woman Powell told us about…Reid knew about her, but how and from when and where? How far back do their paths intersect?”

“What woman?” Herrera asked.

Kelly filled the captain in on the mystery woman at Spencer’s. “Powell said the woman kept staring at Reid. I think she’s the one who snapped the photos of them together.” Kelly’s heart picked up some speed, and she met Jack’s gaze. “Even more than that, I think this woman is our killer.”

“A female sniper?”

“Why not,” Kelly fired back. “Women can do anything men can do.”

Herrera held up his hands. “Not the way I meant it.”

Kelly didn’t care how he meant it; she took it as she heard it. “Jack, we’ve discussed how the sniper could be personally motivated, and now she shows her face to her victim within hours of taking him out?”

“Ballsy,” Herrera chimed in.

Kelly disregarded Herrera’s male-macho terminology. “It was her way of letting Reid know he was going to pay for what he did, whatever that was.”

“Hmm.” Jack patted his shirt pocket where he kept his cigarettes.

“You don’t agree?” Kelly asked.

Jack met her eyes. “I never said that. We definitely need to figure out how the sniper and the victims are connected. We figure our sniper has a military background, but none of the victims did.”

“There has to be something they hold in common,” Kelly reasoned.

“All the men were cheaters,” Herrera said.

“I think there’s more to it.” Kelly’s mind went to the photos sent to the widows. “I think the reason our sniper has targeted these men is personal, but that’s not enough. She wants the widows to know the type of men their husbands were, too. So, what’s the grander message in that? We also need to figure out why a woman in her thirties—as Powell described the woman at the bar—is killing men in their fifties.” Her thoughts went dark. “Sexual abuse when she was younger?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s more likely she’d take them out another way…in another spot on their bodies.”

The way both men stiffened and shifted their posture told Kelly just the thought of being struck in “another spot” made them uncomfortable.

“But if she was abused as a child, then how would Reid recognize her?” Herrera asked. “You said Powell told you he did.”

“Right. So, if it is sexual abuse, she could have been a teenager. Looks don’t change so drastically that she’d be unrecognizable as an adult.”

“Okay, here’s a question,” Herrera started. “How did a younger woman come to be in the company of four men twenty years or so older than she was?”

“School? No, only one of them was a teacher.” Kelly snapped her fingers. “What about through her mother? She could have been single, had the four victims as boyfriends at different times?”

“Wow, then she really knew how to pick ’em,” Herrera stated drily. “Though not unheard of for the cycle to repeat itself.”

“The chances that all four men abused her…” Jack raised a skeptical brow.

Maybe I took my theorizing too far.

“Nadia conducted quick backgrounds on the victims, their places of birth—all different states—and dates of birth, but did she dig any deeper? And now that we’re thinking that the state of California could somehow tie into the investigation, can we place all the men there at some time?”

“Call Nadia and have her dig deeper.”

Kelly took out her phone and stepped into the hall. Nadia answered on the second ring, and Kelly asked her to take a hard look at the victims’ pasts for ties to California.

“Wanna hold the line?”

“I do.”

Keys were clicked on Nadia’s end, and it felt like forever before Nadia’s voice came back on the line. “I didn’t notice this before, but we weren’t focused on California.”

“What is it?”

“All of them had addresses in towns that were within a short drive of Bridgeport. Do you think that could mean something?”

“Can you put them there at the same time?”

“Yeah.”

Tingles ran down Kelly’s arms. “Then, yeah, I’d say it could mean something. When were they all living in the area?” Maybe their shooter had been there during the same time period.

Nadia provided the year range.

Kelly’s shoulders sagged. “That would make them all teenagers and young adults in their early twenties. College age. Any of them go to the same school?”

“No, I would have noticed that before now.”

So, how had they all come into contact—or had they? Maybe they only had to cross paths with the sniper. If they were in their teens and twenties, though, their sniper wouldn’t even have been born yet. What the hell? “What ages were the men when they left the state?”

“Well, the three of them moved farther away from Bridgeport, to the north of the state—not close to each other—and at different ages. But they all left California in their thirties. Reid at thirty-three, Miller and Sherman thirty-five, and Wise thirty-seven.”

That would put their suspected sniper in her teens, but there didn’t seem to be any geographical meeting point to facilitate an assault. “Okay, thanks, Nadia.”

“Why do I get the feeling I didn’t help?”

“No, you did.” Kelly hung up, headed back into Marsha’s apartment, and joined Jack. “Can we talk a minute?”

They stepped into the hallway, where she updated him on her conversation with Nadia.

“Okay.” Jack’s eyes shadowed. “It seems this all stems from something that happened in California.”

“I’d say that emotions are certainly at play, too. A hired gun wouldn’t leave any type of trail.”

“I’ll give you that.”

“We figure she entered the military, specifically the Marines, given the type of gun used in the shootings. We’re running a little tight on leads, but what if she happened to enlist and be trained in the state of California.”

“Are there any bases in the vicinity of Bridgeport?”

Kelly brought out her phone and did a quick Google search. “There are thirty-two in the entire state…” She scrolled down and stopped when she got to the Marine Corps Mountain Warfare Training Center in Pickel Meadows. “Ah, Jack…there’s a training center right in Pickel Meadows. It’s only twenty-four minutes from Bridgeport.” She looked up from her phone when Jack didn’t say anything. “That’s where the Mavises are from—the couple whose credit card was stolen. This can’t be a coincidence.”

“I’m aware. Tell me more about the training center,” he said.

She scanned the article and gave Jack the highlights. “It was originally started to prep soldiers for the Korean War. Most of the troops trained there now are sent to help with peacekeeping efforts in Afghanistan.” She slowly pried her gaze from her phone’s screen.

Jack rubbed his jaw and walked a few steps. She’d never imagined Jack as a pacer, yet here he was.

“Jack?” she prompted.

He held up his index finger, stopping walking, turned to face her, then pulled out his phone. “Nadia, I need you to find out the names of any females sent to the military training base in Pickel Meadows, California, who were trained as snipers. Narrow the window between thirteen and twenty-two years ago.”

Kelly did the quick math in her head. The mystery woman was estimated in her thirties. Accounting for an age range of thirty to thirty-nine, less seventeen—the earliest age anyone can join the Marines—that would put her enlistment between the years Jack had noted.

“Call me back the minute you get anything.” Jack pocketed his phone and returned to Marsha’s apartment without another word to Kelly.

She found that strange, but she also noticed the way his voice sounded like steel and the glazed-over look to his eyes when he’d made the request of Nadia. It was probably because he felt he was in some way turning on his own by pointing the finger at someone who had served. Kelly knew from her grandfather that the military was a brotherhood, and everyone had the other’s back. Whether Jack would admit it or not, Kelly suspected he was struggling with his sense of loyalty—but at the same time, she had no doubts that he’d take down a killer no matter their past service record.