12
Julia burst through the screen door. “The cops are in the field! I think they got him!”
“Holy shit!” Courtney set down the dishtowel. “Let’s go!”
“We’re coming, too!” Mona and Susan said from the table.
“Are you sure?” Julia asked, hoping they’d say no. She knew it would take longer if they came, and there wasn’t a moment to lose.
Susan rose. “Of course!”
Mona recoiled. “When did we stop counting?”
Julia felt a guilty pang. “I’m sorry. Let’s go, ladies. Courtney, you go and turn the car around, and we’ll meet you at the steps.”
Later, Courtney stepped on the gas, with Julia in the passenger seat and Mona and Susan in the back. “I hope they got him!”
“Me, too!” Julia hung on to the strap as they bounced across the pasture, flattening the underbrush. Deer bounded away, and birds and bugs flew in all directions.
“I can’t wait to get a look at him!” Susan called out.
Mona added, “I can’t wait to kick him in the balls!”
Julia’s heart pounded when she spotted uniformed troopers and police cruisers parked at the edge of the pasture near a raggedy treeline. Courtney headed for them and reached the cruisers in no time, then braked and jumped out of the car with Julia on her heels.
Troopers were emerging from the woods, among them Trooper Sylvester, who began calling and motioning them back. “Ladies, you’re not permitted here! Please, return to your vehicle!”
Courtney hustled to him. “Did you catch the guy?”
“Is it him?” Julia hurried to stand beside her.
“Please, return to your vehicle.” Trooper Sylvester extended his arms, blocking their way. “You breached the perimeter. You could jeopardize the prosecution. This is police business and the investigation is confidential. I need you to—”
“We won’t tell anyone.” Courtney shot back, craning her head to see beyond him. “Nobody wants to see this killer brought to justice more than I do.”
“She’s the victim’s family,” Julia added. “She has a right to know what’s going on.”
Mona came up from behind. “Kay Patterson was our best friend, son. Courtney is her granddaughter, her only survivor. You’re standing on her property.”
Susan came over, too. “I’m very familiar with procedure, Trooper. We would never interfere with the apprehension of a suspect, but Courtney is entitled to basic information.”
Just then more troopers emerged from the woods, and the women turned to watch in silent anticipation.
Courtney kept craning her neck and Julia held her hand as a cadre of troopers left the woods and started walking toward them, led by a short trooper.
The others dispersed, heading back to their cruisers, but there was no suspect.
Courtney frowned. “What’s going on? Did he get away?”
Trooper Sylvester pursed his lips. “We did not apprehend anyone.”
“Why didn’t you say so? What’s going on?”
Trooper Sylvester hesitated. “We found what we believe could be the murder weapon.”
Courtney gasped. “Back there? So he threw it when he drove away?”
“You’ll have to talk to Buckley PD. They’re conducting the investigation.”
“Can I see the gun?”
“No, it could be evidence, and—”
Suddenly Courtney broke past him and bolted to the short trooper.
“Court!” Julia ran after her, and the short trooper edged away as they reached him, followed by Trooper Sylvester. Mona and Susan hustled after them.
“I want to see the gun that killed my grandmother!” Courtney reached the short trooper, whose nameplate read ARROYO.
“I need you to back away, Miss.” Trooper Arroyo frowned.
Julia interjected, “Trooper Arroyo, if you don’t let her see it, I’m going to post that the state police trampled the rights of a victim’s family on her own family farm.”
Trooper Arroyo glanced at Trooper Sylvester, who nodded slightly.
“Fine.” Trooper Arroyo held up a large, transparent baggie holding a small black gun that looked like a toy.
“Is that even real?” Courtney squinted at the gun.
“It’s a ghost gun,” Susan pointed, and the troopers turned to her in surprise.
Julia looked over, surprised. “What?”
Susan cleared her throat. “It’s a gun made with a 3D printer. You buy the frame and print the parts. There’s no serial number, so it’s untraceable, like a ghost.”
Courtney turned to Trooper Sylvester. “Is she right?”
“Yes,” Trooper Sylvester answered, blinking.
Susan smiled slyly. “I taught physics at Ashland High for forty-one years.”
Courtney turned to Trooper Sylvester. “How typical is a ghost gun around here? How many do you usually see in a year?”
“You’d have to ask Buckley PD.”
“Okay. What does that mean for the manhunt? You continue it, don’t you?”
“We’ll await orders from Buckley. Now, please return to your vehicle.”
Another trooper stepped forward, raising his hand at Susan. “Ms. Turner, remember me from Physics Club?”