Page 10 of High Treason
Kord noted HPD had swarmed Paramount High School, and several officers were on the roof. He doubted the sniper had left any casings. A new school was being constructed on the east side, making it easy for someone to move about. “Ready to check out the high school?”
“If any of the students, staff, or construction workers witnessed the shooter, they might speak up.”
“We’ll assure them protection,” Kord said.
“Doesn’t always work that way.”
MONICA AND KORD WAITEDat the busy intersection until the traffic allowed them to drive across the street to Paramount High School. Before exiting his car, she dug into her shoulder bag for her Glock, then inserted it into her back waistband. She hung binoculars around her neck and stuffed latex gloves into her jean pocket. They walked to the front entrance of the original school. Silent. At least they weren’t arguing.
Two TV vans and several media representatives stayed behind HPD’s barrier.
Monica’s thoughts exploded with the implications of today’s crime, grim, and yet if the dead man had been Prince Omar, the whole world would be in an uproar with talk of the US’s lack of security. And worse. The greater good crossed her mind, and acid rose from her stomach. No one had the right to choose one man’s life over another.
The sniper had needed time to plan the kill, which meant he’dlearned about the prince’s schedule early on—not followed the entourage from the airport. She assumed the killer had military training. Sounded to her like the prince had an enemy within his household. She could only imagine his response. He’d demand proof without a loophole and blame US security before looking at his own people.
“What are the chances the sniper got in and out of the school without someone seeing him?” Kord said.
“Kord, you and I could do it and few would know we were here.”
“Unfortunately you might be right. Whoever pulled the trigger hasprofessionalstamped on his training. Look at the strategic planning and accuracy.”
“We’ll get it figured out.” Zain was his friend, and she kept discounting how the impact of his death had to be weighing on him.
“I want the investigation reports now.”
She hadn’t decided if they could work together amicably. One minute he seemed human and the next unpredictable. She’d been accused of the same characteristics. If she’d lost a good friend today and another friend’s life was in danger, she might be crabby too. Given the tragedies, she’d try to curb her tongue.
An HPD officer met them at the school entrance with a middle-aged woman who trembled as though she might fall. “I’m the principal here.” She clenched her fists, and instead of reaching out to shake their hands, she fished through her purse and produced a prescription bottle. Being in charge of a high school and knowing a sniper had fired from the roof of her building might cause the most sane to consider unorthodox coping mechanisms. The woman tapped the prescription bottle into her hand—a green capsule resembling Prozac. “It’s for my heart,” she said.
“We’re from the FBI,” Kord said. “We have a few questions about the crime committed here today.”
“Have you read the police report?” the principal said. “It’s all there.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’d like to talk privately,” Kord said. “A bodyguard from the Saudi royal family was killed.”
The principal’s eyes widened. “I thought it was a random shot, not a murder. I should have paid better attention. Are you certain?”
“It’s a confirmed hit.”
The principal glanced away, then back to them. “This is devastating news. Identification, please. She looks like a reporter to me. And we can talk out here in the open.”
Monica and Kord displayed their FBI IDs. She didn’t mind wearing her earlier work clothes. It simply deepened her cover with the public. Luckily this wasn’t her or Kord’s first rodeo—respecting others’ positions, responsibilities, and emotions were part of riding the wild bronc while ensuring critical situations were handled.
“Today must have tested your stress level,” Monica said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been trying.” The principal relaxed slightly.
“Did anyone report an unusual occurrence, see someone on campus who alarmed them?”
“I repeat. I’ve given my report to HPD.” She blinked dramatically. “Nothing confirmed. Some of my students want to be in the middle of this, while others are afraid to step forward. That goes for teachers, staff, and workers too.” She pointed to the construction of the new building. “I have no idea if they saw anything.”
Monica smiled into her pale face. “We’ll receive a copy of the reports and base our interviews on those. When were you aware of the shooting?”
“Police officers arrived about fifteen minutes after it was determined someone had fired from the roof.”
“What happened then?”
“We went into lockdown mode for two and a half hours, even those working on the new facility. Students and faculty stayed in their respective rooms while officers searched the building. Afterward they suggested we evacuate the building. No one exited without identification, and every student and faculty member met with the same scrutiny and questioning before leaving the grounds. The procedure took an extremely long time. We barely finished before you two arrived.”
