Page 60 of Night Watch
Sierra jabbed him. “Do you always have to be so blunt?”
“Sorry, but it’s true. From that range, he would’ve taken everyone out.”
Erik spun to face him. “Don’t let me catch you mentioning that to Kennedy. She doesn’t need to hear that.”
“No worries. I can be discreet.”
Sierra snorted. “At least you can try.”
“So if we assume the shooter hunkered down behind the open window, while we wait, we could take a walk to find the apartment entrance.”
“What part of ‘wait here’ don’t you get?” Erik asked.
“She meant the crime scene,” Aiden said. “We’re free to roam anywhere we want outside of it.”
“I agree,” Grady said.
Erik looked at the pair. “We don’t want to risk making her mad or she could change her mind.”
Grady shook his head. “When did you become so obedient?”
“It’s not obedience but wisdom, man. Do what every woman wants or risk her wrath.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sierra to lighten the mood.
She punched him, and he stifled the urge to knuckle her head. Exchanging barbs with his siblings was always guaranteed to brighten things up, even if they were acting like teenagers again.
“Doesn’t matter,” Grady said. “Here she comes.”
Frost strode across the street, but her face was a mask of stoicism and Erik wished he knew what she was going to say.
She stopped and planted her feet.
Uh-oh.
It didn’t look good—not good at all—and Erik offered a prayer as he braced himself for the answer.
“My LT has worked with Veritas several times, and he’s glad for the help,” Frost said, surprising Erik. “He just asked that you send over that standard contract, and we’ll move forward.”
“I’ll do it right now.” Sierra got out her phone and tapped the screen.
“So what are we looking at here?” Erik asked.
“Apartment over the pharmacy is vacant and has an exterior entrance on the back of the building. The shooter jimmied the lock and slid a table over by the window, where we think he rested his weapon.” She looked at Grady. “I’m sure you can confirm that once you do a trajectory analysis.”
Grady nodded. “With the number of rounds fired, I’m sure to find bullets lodged in multiple locations, and I can easily make an official determination.”
Frost unfurled her hand to reveal an evidence bag holding bullet casings. “From the apartment. Any thoughts on what kind of weapon we’re looking at here?”
Grady took the bag and studied the contents. “Looks like 9×19 mm Parabellum ammo. Which won’t likely be any help. It’s the world's most popular submachine gun cartridge. It’s also the caliber for the most widely used military and police handguns.”
“So too common to be unique?” Frost asked.
“Exactly.” Grady ran a hand through his sandy-red hair and fixed his blue-eyed gaze on the detective. “Best we can hope for on the casings—other than using them for trial when I can match the bullet to the weapon if we recover it—is to find that the subject transferred his DNA when the bullets were loaded into the magazine.”
“If the shooter cast his own ammo instead of using factory cast ones, he’d likely leave prints on the bullets, right?” Frost asked.
“Sure, but not in this case.” Grady turned a casing over. “These are from jacketed rounds, which individuals can’t cast.”
Frost narrowed her eyes. “Well, shoot.”
