Page 92 of Concrete Evidence
“I’m curious about Shipley withholding information from ourfirst meeting with him. He knew about the threats and the investigation. The man’s a control freak.”
Marc laughed. “A pain in the rear too. I could have used you tonight to deal with him. But I managed.”
“Do you suspect his involvement?”
“Not really. He wants to lead the investigation and dictate the path forward. I put in a request to see his military records and financials. Everything else is clean.”
“See? You can run this investigation without me.”
“Not really, Roden. We’re a team.”
“What’s the ASAC saying about your working alone?”
“Another call for in the morning,” Marc said.
Roden chuckled. “Keep me posted. One more observation. It’s impossible for every foot of the ranch’s perimeter to have security cams. Too much going on for you to run offense by yourself, and the sheriff’s department is already running thin.”
“Yeah. I’ll remind the ASAC of the same thing when I plead for help.”
A light outside flickered. The dog barked. “Hey, gotta go.” Marc laid his phone on the library desk and doused the lights. He crept to the window. Only still darkness. Glancing around the room, he spotted a red light... probing.
Someone had a laser scope looking for a target.
He snatched his phone and group-texted Avery, Tessa, his mother, Mia, and the senator.Prowler outside with laser. Stay put and don’t turn on any lights.
The second text went to the deputy leading up security at the front gate.Prowler with laser on west side of house. Headed to check out.
He rushed up the stairs to his room, flipping off lights as he went. After retrieving his Glock with a vow not to breathe without it again, he returned to the library for signs of the shooter. The dog no longerbarked, but that didn’t mean the shooter hadn’t eliminated the animal, especially if he had a silencer.
Or the dog knew the shooter.
Marc slipped out the rear of the house and stole his way to the west side. Red dots appeared to the right of him. He crouched low and made his way in the opposite direction of the laser’s pinpoint. Behind a hundred-year-old oak tree, a shadowed figure aimed what looked like a rifle at the library window.
Marc circled the area to the rear of the shooter, on alert for a change in the red laser. He wanted this guy alive, but he’d not hesitate to blow him away.
Lights and sirens made their way closer from the security gate. Twenty-five feet behind the figure, Marc took cover behind a tree. “FBI. Drop your weapon.”
The shooter turned, firing repeatedly in and around the tree. Marc returned gunfire. A grunt of pain met Marc’s ears, and he bolted forward, tackling a slender but muscular body.
The man fought back with a punch to Marc’s face, sending his head into pounding spasms of pain. The man’s wound didn’t deter his fighting back, and he refused to release the rifle.
Marc seized the man’s right hand and shoved the rifle barrel into the dirt. He grabbed the man’s thumb, bending it back until his hand broke free of the weapon. Marc tossed it aside and flipped the man, pulling his arms behind him.
“Agent Wilkins,” someone called. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Could use some cuffs. Call an ambulance too. This guy’s shot.” Marc stuck his knee into the shooter’s back and reached for his LED flashlight to show his location. He then aimed it on the man facedown in the dirt. Blood poured from the man’s left side.
A deputy handed Marc cuffs and the other offered an assist.
The man yelled, “Don’t touch me.”
“I know this guy,” the same deputy said. “I thought he worked here at the ranch. Jake Drendle.”
Marc noted his smooth features and ear-length blond hair. A kid.
“Marc?” Avery’s voice carried across the night air.
“Follow the flashing lights.”
