Page 61 of Night Watch
“Hold on,” Grady said. “You might not be able to cast FMJs at home, but the casingscanbe reloaded, and we might gather prints that way.”
Frost took a step closer. “So you can tell they’re jacketed rounds just by looking at the casings?”
“In this case, yes,” Grady said. “And if you want some good news, I’ve seen two case types in this bag so it’s likely theyarereloads. I’ll know more after I look at additional casings. The more case types I find, the more likely they’re reloads. If you have anyone else collecting bullets, which I hope you won’t, they should pay extra attention so they can be processed for prints and DNA.”
“I’m almost certain the bullets came from a submachine gun,” Erik said. “At least that was the sound pattern.”
“Though I didn’t hear the gun, I would agree,” Grady said. “You can’t always determine by looking at casings whether or not they were fired from a sub-machine gun rather than a different semi-auto pistol or carbine. However, I’m pretty confident I already know the gun we’re looking for here.”
“You what?” Frost gaped at him.
“Way to bury the lead, man.” Aiden rolled his eyes.
“So what are we looking for?” Frost asked.
“An H&K MP5. Pretty much all H&K guns leave a fluted marking on the case that quickly identifies the gun they were fired from. These casings have that telltale fluting. Plus, the H&K prefers FMJover pretty much anything, so that’s another tipoff.”
“You’re amazing.” Sierra gazed at Grady with respect.
Grady waved a hand. “You do the same thing only with other evidence. And of course, this is a specific science just like your forensics are, and my immediate determination is an educated guess based on the markings and the amount of casings as well as their fall pattern. I’ll take all the evidence back to the lab and confirm the weapon used.”
The detective kept steady eye contact. “I’ve heard the Veritas experts could do things we don’t do in our lab. You all keep proving it.”
“We do for sure.” Grady frowned. “But I’m not going to pull a rabbit out of a hat. In general, unless the shooter was grossly inept or wanted to be discovered, it’s going to be extremely difficult to find any markings to give you a lead on his identity.”
“But not impossible, right?” Erik asked.
“Not impossible.” Grady shifted the bagged casings in his hand. “And of course, if we find bullets that aren’t too mutilated and with good markings, we can run them through the federal firearms database.” Grady looked at Frost. “With your official approval, of course.”
Just like running prints and DNA in databases, the National Integrated Ballistic Information Network—NIBIN—database managed by ATF was limited to participating law enforcement agencies. It stored over four million pieces of ballistic evidence, providing a nationwide network of ballistic data for firearms to be shared, researched, identified, and cross-referenced.
Frost’s phone chimed. “That’s my LT. Let me see what he wants. Be right back.”
She strode across the street again.
When she was out of earshot, Erik looked at Grady. “Anything you were holding back?”
Grady snapped off a glove and scratched his close-cut beard, the color matching his red hair. “I might’ve played down my ability as the best firearms examiner outside of the FBI’s lab.” He grinned. “Let me get to work on taking these casings into evidence for them. Gonna take a while with the quantity.”
He’d brought a large plastic case much like Sierra’s, and it contained some of the same tools. Markers to denote bullet locations. Camera to document items found. Tweezers to remove bullets from any kind of substance they pierced. And bags to collect all the evidence, which he would take back to his state-of-the-art firearms lab, a place Erik and his brothers took every opportunity to visit.
Frost came back. “LT got the form, so we’re good to go. But before you leave here, we’ll want an evidence list and your scene photos.”
Sierra started to pump her fist but must’ve thought better of it, as she lowered it. “Sure thing.”
“Same with you, Houston,” Frost told Grady.
Grady gave a tight smile. “You got it.”
Sierra looked at Frost. “So we’re good to go?”
“Not inside,” Frost said. “I still need to tell our criminalists to stand down. They’re not going to like it, but you can get started out here with wide shots of the scene. Just sign in with the officer of record. I’ll tell him on my way past that you’re officially welcome.”
“Thank you,” Erik said.
She let her penetrating gaze linger. “Just don’t do anything to make me regret my decision.”
She marched away and stopped by a patrol officer holding a clipboard.
