Page 63 of Night Watch
Erik thought about the two-day race with over a thousand teams of eight to twelve members who ran or walked a course that started at Mount Hood, wound through Portland, and ended at the Pacific Ocean. Registration for the iconic event filled on opening day for the past thirty years. But Erik didn’t comment as it would be an acknowledgment that Sierra shared evidence with him.
“They didn’t give out bracelets when I ran it in 2001,” Grady said.
“Not when we did either,” Sierra said. “That was in ’05, but I guess things could’ve changed. Or maybe the team had them made. Or a vendor was selling them as a souvenir. But if that was the case, I don’t get the red hawks on it.”
Erik’s sister was in tune with him, as that was his thought as well.
Grady glanced at Erik. “If it was a team thing, we should be able to comb race videos to identify the team by the bracelets.”
Sierra nodded. “That would bring us down to twelve suspects. Well, plus the people on their road crew.”
Erik’s parents had served as their road crew, driving the support vans that picked up and dropped off the runners and gave them a place to sleep and hydrate along the route.
“Still, I don’t see our shooter yanking off the bracelet and leaving it behind,” Grady said. “But I suppose the band could’ve distracted him while he was shooting. Depending on the weapon, and if he was holding it right, it could’ve even brushed against his arm or chest and irritated his skin.”
“Or it’s not from him,” Sierra said. “A hitman would never leave his brass behind, much less something as easily identifiable as this.”
“He did leave brass here. Lots of brass.” Grady looked around. “Looks like he fired off a couple of magazines, and each one can hold up to thirty rounds. We might be looking at sixty casings here. Probably too much for the shooter to pick up before the police arrived. He didn’t want to risk getting caught.”
“Then you guys should get back to it,” Erik said, finally unable to keep quiet. “I’m going to search the web for information on Tile trackers to see if we can figure out who used them to track Kennedy and her mom. And then I’ll search for Hood to Coast pictures of teams who might be wearing those bracelets. Hopefully, we’ll find our suspect’s group and narrow it down to him. And once we have the shooter, we’ll use Grady’s expertise to put him away for a very long time.”
16
Kennedy appreciated Drake’s escort down the sixth floor hallway, but she could no longer keep up the conversations they’d been having. She needed to go to bed. Not that she would. She hadn’t heard from Erik except for a text telling her that he, Grady, and Sierra had not only been given access to view the scene, but that the Veritas Center would collect and process evidence, meaning they would be at the scene for hours. And a later text that said they’d found a bracelet for the Hood to Coast race, giving them a direction to proceed.
She imagined him persuading the detective to accept his help, and her feet slowed at the image. The detective likely had no chance against Erik’s persuasive personality. When he’d turned his charm Kennedy’s way, she’d rarely been able to ignore him. If he decided he wanted to be in a relationship with her again and started to pursue her, what would she do? Would she cave? Resist? She suspected she was leaning much closer to caving than resisting, and oddly that was less terrifying than it had been just a few days before.
“Coming?” Drake paused at the skybridge and glanced back at her.
“Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts.”
He gave a pointed nod, then took long strides, and she hurried to keep up over the gently swaying bridge. He’d been very attentive while they waited for news in the Nighthawk office. He’d even tried to keep her mood up by telling her childhood stories about Erik, and she didn’t want to take up any more of his time.
A text sounded on her phone, the ping echoing off the glass-enclosed space.
“It’s from Erik,” she said. “He’s in the parking structure with Grady recovering slugs from the vehicle.”
“And you want to go out there.” Drake’s statement was followed by a lopsided grin.
“Is that a problem?” She shoved her hand into a pocket to keep from busying her fingers with a lock of hair.
“Nah. It’s just going to take quite some time to document and recover all of the bullets, and I thought you wanted to rest.”
“I might be able to help.”
His eyebrow went up, and he cocked his head.
“What? You don’t think I know how to recover evidence that isn’t in the bottom of some body of water?” She crossed her arms. “Because I do. And I’m very good at it too.”
Drake held up his hands. “Not questioning your skills. Just wondering why you’d want to hang out in the parking garage when you could be comfortable in Erik’s condo.”
Because I want to see Erik.There. She had to admit her real reason. After the shooting, she wanted to confirm again that every hair on his head was fine.
“But to each his own.” Drake crossed the remaining distance to the door. He opened it then looked out. “We’re clear.”
She took the last few steps and paused at the open doorway. Erik, Grady, and Sierra stood near the battered SUV, their backs to Kennedy.
Erik spun, his sharp expression softening when he locked eyes with her.
