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Thirty-Eight

Arlington, Virginia

Friday, October 25th, 4:15 PM Eastern Standard Time

Kelly continued to stare at Marsha’s lifeless body like she had been for a couple hours now. It didn’t matter how long she looked, she felt nothing emotionally, only a drive to find justice. She also had more questions than answers. The medical examiner had shown up and was being tight-lipped, and Nadia hadn’t called back with any new information. Jack’s impatience was tangible. He’d even been out for a couple of cigarettes, and his face was all sharp angles and concentration.

“The victim was definitely killed by a gunshot to the head,” the medical examiner said, “and considering the amount of stippling, it’s likely the gun was fired less than eighteen inches from the victim.”

So just as Kelly had thought: Doyle had opened the door and ate a bullet. But did their killer know that Doyle would be on the other side, or was she willing to kill whoever answered, knowing that the all-access hotel keycard was inside the apartment? It hadn’t turned up yet, so it seemed easy to conclude that the sniper had taken it to gain access to room 850.

“No one heard a gunshot,” Kelly reiterated, chewing on what canvassing officers had been finding thus far. The killer must have used a suppressor, and that means they planned ahead. But, even so, this murder has impulsive elements. Our sniper was brazen enough to shoot from the hall where anyone could have seen her. Would she have killed someone if they came up on her by happenstance?”

“Scary thought.” Herrera puffed out a deep breath.

“But all good deductions.” With Jack’s praise, she found herself standing just a bit taller. Jack added, “In the least, she’s feeling a sense of power, and it wouldn’t seem she’s worried about getting caught.”

“Maybe she wants to be stopped?” Herrera asked. “That’s what happens with some of these sickos, isn’t it?”

Jack frowned at the word sickos. “I don’t know if she wants to be stopped, but it’s almost as if she’s indifferent to the idea.”

“So…what? She’s going with the flow, so to speak?” Kelly asked.

“Yes and no. I’d say she’s following a plan,” Jack concluded.

Kelly gave consideration to Jack’s words, but how many victims did this killer’s plan include? Were more people being added to the list all the time, or would there be a natural end to the killing? After all, if the sniper was taking out people in revenge for a past wrongdoing, there could only be a limited number on her hit list. But if she had become addicted to killing along the way, that was another story, and the murders might not stop on their own. “I don’t know if she really wants to be caught, though she does leave little strings to pull. She still strikes me as methodical, locked into military mode. She sees her kills as a mission she’s taken on. She planned out the execution of her four male victims and was precise in carrying it out. Shooting Marsha Doyle wasn’t a whim, either. She tracked her to her apartment for a purpose: the keycard. There’s never been any unintended casualties otherwise, as far as we know.”

“If she does view those she kills as accomplishing a mission, it could explain the cold calculation. That would remove emotion from the equation.” Jack locked gazes with Kelly and didn’t need to remind her they’d recently thought the opposite way.

“A mission could make sense. Killing Doyle just became necessary. After all, she literally held the key. I wonder if there were other people taken out because the sniper saw their deaths as necessary, too.” Kelly butted her head toward Marsha’s dead body. “Hopefully, the evidence the sniper left behind will give us another string to pull.”

The medical examiner looked up from his crouched position next to the body. “We’ll have the bullet extracted and analyzed, run through the system.”

“Have it rushed,” Jack told him.

“Was planning on it.”

“It might connect to other murders we aren’t yet aware of.” Kelly could only get a tad excited about any of this. Even if the gun used to shoot Marsha Doyle had been used in other murders, it only got them so far; it didn’t hand them the shooter.

Jack’s phone rang, and he answered and headed for the hall. He signaled for Kelly to follow him, and when he disconnected, he informed her it had been Paige and shared her message.

“Estella,” Kelly repeated the name he told her. “And they have video?” This could be a break they needed.

“The likelihood of her real name being Estella is slim,” Jack said.

“I agree, but I’d say the name might mean something to her.”

Jack remained quiet.

Kelly added, “Emotion, no emotion, I don’t think our shooter does anything without thinking things through. Maybe she is sending a message with the name or—”

Jack’s phone jingled. “Harper here…Yes, okay. What about the name Estella? Any of those show up for you?” He reentered Marsha’s apartment with Kelly hot on his heels and went into the kitchen where he put Nadia on speaker. Herrera joined them there.

“The Marines really don’t like parting with information,” Nadia said. “That’s what’s taken me so long, but there were five women who were trained at the facility in Pickel Meadows during the time range you gave me and who were also taught to snipe. You said Estella? Do we think that’s our sniper’s name?”

“The name came up for Paige and Brandon,” Jack cut in. “They’ll be calling you about it.”

“Well, I don’t recall any Estellas.”

“Any of those five women see an active war zone?” Jack asked. “Suffer PTSD?”

“All of them, Jack. Figured I’d narrow it down based on our previous thinking about mental instability and being trained in sniping.”

“Were any of the five women treated in any VA hospitals in or around the cities where the victims were shot?” Kelly asked.

“Not that I can see. The sniper was either not medicating or receiving treatment elsewhere.”

“She might not even realize she has a problem,” Kelly said. “If she’s operating from the standpoint of a mission, then she might just think she’s doing what’s required of her.”

“Send us the list of names you got there,” Jack directed. “But I want you to dig into the background of these women. See if the name Estella pops up anywhere.”

“You got it, Jack.”

He ended the call, and Kelly’s phone pinged a text notification, followed afterward by Jack receiving one. She looked at hers, and it was the list of names.

Jack stuffed his phone into a pocket and addressed Herrera. “Keep us posted on what transpires here.”

“I can do that.”

Jack led the way out of the apartment, and Kelly trailed, not sure where they were headed now.

“Jack?” she called out.

He slowed for her to catch up.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going back to the sniper’s nest.”

“Because…” She didn’t like questioning Jack, but she wasn’t sure why they’d be going there.

“Sometimes there are things you miss the first time.”