Page 31 of Fatal Mistake
Cal was well versed in weaponry, but Rick served as their ballistics expert, and Cal respected his teammate’s opinion. “You look like you have a theory.”
“Just speculation, but Keeler could have used Tannerite for this bomb.”
Cal glanced at the twisted hull of Tara’s pickup. “There’s no question the truck was the seat of the explosion, but Tannerite? I don’t know. He’s never used it before.”
“He could change his MO. And with Tannerite so cheap and readily available, he wouldn’t have to hunt for a source of C-4 after arriving in Oregon.”
A binary substance made of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder used in exploding rifle targets, Tannerite was readily available both in retail stores and on the Internet, so Keeler could quite easily get his hands on an unlimited supply without raising any questions.
“Plus it only takes a high-powered bullet to ignite the bomb instead of relying on a cell or other wireless signal that could be iffy out here,” Rick continued. “And since a hypersonic shock is the only thing that sets off Tannerite, a large-caliber bullet is the fastest and easiest way to provide that shock. After a quick mix of the stuff in a storage container, he could have set it in the cab or even the truck bed.”
Cal thought about his visit to the truck. “I looked at the vehicle right before it went up. There was nothing in the cab, but Tara had a storage box in the bed. Keeler could have put it in there, I suppose.”
“Or, with all the dense vegetation in the area, he watched you until you took off and added the Tannerite after you left.”
Cal didn’t want to think Keeler could have been hunkering down in the woods today, rubbing his grubby hands together and smiling in glee while Cal had been totally unaware of him and missed the opportunity to apprehend him.
But Cal couldn’t rule out the possibility. “Hickson claims he didn’t fire at the truck, but he could be lying.”
“If Keeler placed the bomb, he could have been the shooter, too.”
“Which corroborates Hickson’s account of a second shooter. I’ll have Brynn test for Tannerite and look for the slug,” Cal said. “Even odder to me, though, is that Keeler didn’t shoot Tara when he had a chance, or detonate the bomb when she was in the truck. Why give her the chance to escape?”
“Seems like he was sending a message. Telling her that no matter who’s protecting her, he can get to her. Either to mess with her, or maybe it was a warning, telling her not to help us.”
“Then Keeler must think she knows something that will lead us to him, and we’re right on track in obtaining her help.”
“Or…” Rick paused and met Cal’s gaze. “He’s waiting until she’s alone so he can use one of his necklace bombs on her and revel in her terror.”
“Something a psychopath like Keeler would do for sure.” Cal hissed out a breath. “Not that everyone isn’t doing their best as it is, but we need to up our game on protecting Tara.”
“Agreed,” Rick said, and started forward again.
Cal continued walking next to Rick until they’d checked every inch of the area for explosives and strung the tape in a large square, leaving an opening by County’s command truck.
Back at the SUV, Cal stowed the roll of tape, and Rick grabbed equipment to draw the scene to scale. With his constant attention to the smallest of details, he was charged with measuring and sketching their crime scenes for the case files.
The deputy who’d given Cal the stink eye paced around the area. Cal didn’t like idle hands at a scene. It often led to interference and screwups.
He grabbed a worn clipboard holding the access control log and shoved it at the guy whose name tag read JON ANDREWS. “You’re in charge of access to the scene. Stand here and do not leave without my permission. The team can come and go as needed, but no one else is allowed in without my say-so. Not even your supervisor or any other County brass who might show up. Are we clear?”
“As a bell.” Instead of looking frustrated over having to perform such a mundane job, the deputy’s eyes gleamed with excitement. Cal pegged him as a rookie, and the guy would have huge bragging rights as the only deputy allowed to work the investigation today.
“Out of my way, people,” Kaci called as she peered out from behind a tripod with a boxy camera mounted on top.
“What’s that thing?” Andrews asked.
“A 3-D scanner,” Brynn said from the doorway of the truck. “It uses eye-safe laser light to scan the crime scene and create a 3-D rendering that’s uploaded to a computer. In addition to the pictures, it captures measurements so the model is scaled.”
“Cool.”
“More than cool,” Brynn added as she jumped down and lingered by the door. “It’s a great way for a DA to show the crime scene to a jury or for investigators to refresh their memory as time passes.”
“If you don’t mind,” Kaci yelled from a distance, her tone filled with sarcasm, “can you all carry on your conversation in the truck or behind it so when I turn the camera on it doesn’t catch you in the frames?”
The deputy looked up at Cal for direction, but Cal had more interest in the transport vehicle arriving to haul Hickson to Northern Oregon Regional Corrections Facility, a joint jail used by many of Oregon’s rural counties.
Cal turned to Andrews. “You can step away this time to get Hickson ready for transport, but I want you right back here when Kaci’s done filming.”
