Page 103 of Solid as Steele
“Seriously?” Mackenzie sat forward. “That’s the same rifle that our other suspect usually uses.”
“These guys know each other?” Grady asked.
“Friends.”
“Makes sense,” Grady said. “Buddies are known for having gun envy and trying to one-up the other guy. But in this case, there’s really nothing else out there better than the Cross right now. At least in my opinion. So maybe Tovar bought the same one just to be equal with the other suspect.”
“But now that you have the weapon, you can fire test shots and compare ballistics,” Owen said. “And that’ll tell us if this’s the gun used to shoot Cassie.”
“Actually, no.” Grady reached for his drink.
“I thought that’s the way ballistic testing worked,” Owen said.
“Usually does, but there’s something you need to know about this model of Sig. The barrel can be removed and replaced by another barrel—even one chambered for another caliber. Means the slugs might not match this gun, but it doesn’t mean the gun didn’t fire the bullet.”
Owen’s bubble burst. “Did you find any other barrels?”
Grady shook his head.
“Doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist,” Blake said. “If I killed someone with this rifle, I’d ditch the barrel.”
“Yeah, me too,” Owen reluctantly admitted. “What about finding a unique mark on the casing from the firing pin? Is that possible?”
Grady emptied his water bottle. “It’s possible, yes. The firing pin indent is actually more reliable as an identifying focus than extractor or ejector markings, except for a few weapons not in play here. But…and this is a big but…if the weapon was fired frequently between finding the casing and recovering the weapon—say a thousand rounds or so—it may be more difficult. That would potentiallychange the indent marks a significant amount. Besides, we didn’t locate any casings at Cassie’s scene for comparison.”
What a turn of events. And not a good one. They could have the murder weapon in their possession, and yet not be able to prove it was the gun that killed Cassie. Unbelievable!
23
The anguished howl of a wild animal startled Owen awake. He glanced at the clock. Four a.m. He should go back to sleep, but his heart was thumping too hard. He slid out of the warm covers and looked out the guest house window toward the main cabin. Lights burned in the living room and kitchen windows.
Mackenzie had turned out the lights hours ago. He was positive of that. He’d waited until she’d done so before going to bed. He’d asked to sleep on her couch to make sure she remained safe, but when he’d suggested it, she rolled her eyes and shooed him toward the guest house, assuring him she’d be fine.
Did the lights mean there was something wrong?
He hurried to get dressed, ignoring the residual pain from his attack, then raced for the house. Through the sheer curtains on the front window, he caught a look at her sitting on the sofa.
He let out a long breath and knocked softly on the door to keep from startling her. “It’s Owen.”
The soft sound of her footfalls padded across the floor, and she opened the door. She wore black yoga pants and an oversized Oregon State sweatshirt, but her feet were bare. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He smiled. “Couldn’t sleep. You too?”
“My arm is aching.” She stepped back. “I just made coffee and will share if you ask nicely.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl, and he loved that she could let go of the pain in her arm to find humor.
He hated that she was in pain, but her humor made him release his anguish in a way that only she could bring out. What was it about this woman? He sure wanted to figure it out. “May I please have a cup of that delicious smelling coffee?”
“Sit and I’ll get you some.” She strode toward the kitchen. “My gran sent back a loaf of banana bread. Want a slice of that too?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled at her but she’d turned to face the coffeepot and couldn’t see him. Probably good as he was likely sending all kinds of mixed signals her way.
He went to stand in front of the roaring fire she’d built, but faced the kitchen. He enjoyed the warmth to his back and the scent of woodsmoke, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her fluid movements. Interesting, but her sparkly blue toenails fascinated him more. Extremely feminine for a woman who’d proved she could toss on a vest, strap on a firearm, and hold her own in a gunfight. He loved the contrast.
Not the only thing he loved about her either. So many more things, like her personality, her strength, her faith, and how she lived it. Once he had Cassie’s killer behind bars, could he let go of everything in his past and start something serious with Mackenzie? Would she be receptive? After all, he hadn’t been the most pleasant guy to be around since he’d met her.
She padded toward him, those toenails catching the overhead light and sparkling.
