Page 48 of Wild Sentinel

“What’s the first thing you would do after you took out a target?” I asked JD rhetorically.

“I’d break down the gun and get rid of it as fast as possible.”

There were plenty of shrubs and flower beds in which to dispose of a weapon. A trained professional would never hide a weapon in such an obvious location. JD took one side of the street, and I took the other, searching towards Sunset. That was the direction the perp had gone after the burglary.

At the corner, an inlet to a storm drain caught my attention. It would be a quick way to dispose of a weapon, though not the best option.

I dropped to the ground and shone a small tactical flashlight into the sewer. The dank musty smell hit my face like a wet sock.

I called JD over. "Give me a hand with this."

He hustled across the street and joined me at the manhole cover. With a sour face, he said, "You want to go down into the sewer?”

"I don’t particularly want to, but...”

Holes in the cover were just big enough to slip a finger through. I tugged on the cast-iron, but the damn thing had to be 200 pounds and rusted shut with dirt and grime. We both yanked on it for a minute, then JD hustled back to the Ferrari and found a small prybar in the toolkit. He hurried back, and we used it to wedge the sewer cover up. Then we slid it to the side, the cast-iron grinding against the concrete, making the most unpleasant sound.

I shone my flashlight into the dank abyss, then climbed down the ladder. The walls were covered with dried slime and grunge. At this point, the catch basin was bone dry. There hadn’t been any rain in the area recently.

28

The beam of my flashlight raked across a pistol with a suppressor attached to a threaded barrel.

But this was no 9mm Luger.

I didn’t want to touch the weapon, not even with gloves. Anything I did could contaminate the evidence and disrupt the chain of custody.

I climbed out of the sewer and dialed Detective Mitchell.

She was not happy to hear from me. "What can I do for you, Deputy Wild?"

"I found something you need to see.”

"I've seen it all."

"Not this. I'm at the corner of North Canton and Rockford. I think I found the murder weapon."

"If you are referring to Vivian Steele, we already found the murder weapon."

"No. You have Lucas’s 9mm Lugar, which he stole.”

“How do you⁠—?”

“You and I both know those ballistics are inconclusive. Which is an ambiguous way to say it's not a match.” I didn’t have confirmation of that yet, but by her reaction, I was right.

She sighed. "Sit tight. My partner and I are on our way. Do NOT touch the weapon.”

I ended the call and waited for her to arrive.

Seth texted: [Well, I can't see his face, so I can't say with certainty. But that looks like Lucas. That's the way he walked.]

Sharon pulled up about 15 minutes later in a maroon Charger. She and her partner hopped out of the vehicle and approached.

Her partner was early 50s with salt-and-pepper hair, narrow brown eyes, and rugged features. He wore a nice light gray designer suit and tie. This was West Beverly—even the detectives looked the part.

"Gentlemen, this is George Ridley. Ridley, this is Donovan and Wild. They’re on vacation from Florida."

"Vacation, huh? Seems like a strange way to spend it.”