Page 29 of Fatal Mistake
Cal swallowed hard and turned to the suspect sitting near the truck’s front bumper. Team ballistics and hostage rescue expert Rick Cannon held his rifle on the cuffed man, his glare even more intense than Cal’s. Team negotiator Shane Erwin stood at attention at the front of the truck scanning the area for any additional threat.
Kaci had confirmed the shooter was sixty-two-year-old Lonnie Hickson. His address listed him in northeast Portland, but Kaci learned he’d been evicted. He had ground-in dirt on his hands and under his nails, and he wore a pair of jeans that were so dirty they could stand on their own. Cal believed the guy was homeless. He sure wasn’t the kind of person who would own the thousand-dollar Browning hunter rifle he’d been using.
Stepping to the man, Cal held out his phone displaying a picture of Keeler. “Is this the guy you’re working for?”
“It’s not a guy,” Hickson said, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Then who sent you?”
“A pretty little lady.”
“Explain.”
Hickson peered into the distance, his gaze losing focus. “I was minding my own business outside the Rescue Mission yesterday when a lady paid me a thousand bucks to take a ride with her and fire a few potshots at the girl.”
“Potshots as in you weren’t supposed to hit her?”
“Right. Just scare her.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a killer, man, and wouldn’t have taken her out for a thousand bucks. Or even more money.”
Cal rarely trusted suspects because most of them lied, but something in Hickson’s tone rang true. Plus, they’d found the cash in his back pocket. Cal doubted he’d legitimately come upon that much money.
“You got a cigarette?” Lonnie ran his hands over his salt-and-pepper beard that made him look more like Santa Claus than a killer.
Cal ignored the request. “So you started firing from the gate, then moved to this tree?”
“Gate? Nah, man. I’ve been here the whole time.”
Right. Maybe Cal’s belief in Hickson was misplaced. “Then who was firing at the gate?”
Hickson shrugged.
“What about the truck?” Cal asked, as Tara had said that a gunshot had hit the truck before the explosion. “You fire that shot, too?”
Hickson’s head swung side to side, his beard floating in the wind. “Surprised the heck out of me when another shooter got into the game and the truck blew.” He chuckled as if this was a game to him. “Had to hang on to a branch. Thought I was a goner for sure.”
Had there been another shooter in addition to Hickson? Maybe Keeler or this mystery woman who appeared to be working for him?
Cal took a step closer to Hickson. “Why would someone walk up to you on the street and hire you for something like this?”
“Guess she thought I was down on my luck and needed the money.” He held out an arm with a wildly colored tattoo sleeve poking out of a stained T-shirt featuring the Grateful Dead. “Maybe she saw the tat of our flag on my wrist and thought I was a vet who knew his way around a gun.” His puffy lips split in a grin, wrinkling weatherworn cheeks. “Which I am and I do.”
Hickson’s smile vanished. “I suppose you’re gonna keep the money. I coulda used it, man.” Even if this guy needed cash, he’d go away for a long time after this stunt and wouldn’t need much money.
“Describe the woman who gave you the cash,” Cal said.
“She was from one of those Middle Eastern countries but she spoke good English. Just a hint of an accent. Not that she said much. She was also wearing one of those black thingies that covered everything but her eyes, so there’s not much else I can tell you.”
“A headscarf,” Cal said, his mind already racing over the implication of this news. Either this woman was tied to Keeler and ISIS or someone wanted them to think there was a connection.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you call it, it was black, and she had on black gloves, too. Kind of freaked me out at first, but then the cash came out and…” He shrugged.
“What about other physical characteristics?”
“She was small…maybe five six. Had big brown eyes. Made me want to see what she was hiding under all that fabric if you know what I mean.” He grinned, obviously not having a clue as to the trouble he was in.
“Any idea of her age?” Cal asked, though it was unlikely that he could make an accurate assessment with her body almost fully covered.
“Like I said, she was all covered up, but she didn’t have any wrinkles by her eyes, and she moved like a younger woman.”
