It was the gun.
Bundled in newspaper, taken apart. The registration filed down, wiped clean.
The muzzle indicated it had been recently fired. They ran a trace through the National Tracing Center. Hauck wasn’t exactly optimistic.
The results took a couple of days.
The Tec-9 had been purchased at a gun show in Virginia, then reported stolen from a dealer in Pennsylvania six months later. Part of the thousands of weapons that drop through the system every month and end up on the street.
Hauck was a little more hopeful they could locate the car.
That came the next day. There was another case Hauck had been working, trying to track down this bond trader who had closed three multimillion-dollar mortgages on the same property here in town and now was nowhere to be found.
Freddy Munoz ran into his office. “We got it!”
“We got what?”
“The Jetta. Ewell got a beat on it through one of his contacts. They know where it is.”
Hauck jumped up, strapping on his Glock. “Tell him we’ll be up there in twenty minutes.”
“Not Bridgeport, LT. Hartford.”