Chapter 2 #5
“Keys,” the VP groused. “What do you have?”
“Not much,” was not the answer any of us wanted to hear.
“Even with the rush the DEA put on it, forensics takes a while. So I did a bit of digging on my own.” The television screens on the walls came to life.
A 3D computer model of a motel room appeared on the screens.
“I built a rendering of the motel room from the crime scene photos,” Keys explained.
Dixie Gilbert, Ollie’s birth mother, had been murdered last Thursday, and Steel was the number one suspect in her death.
“Chip and Tom also headed over to get me some more accurate measurements.”
I wasn’t the only one to look at Keys with raised eyebrows. Neither Tom, Keys’ new business partner, nor Chip, a veteran who was living on property but wasn’t prospecting for the club, were club members and therefore shouldn’t have been told club business.
“It’s Steel,” Keys argued defensively before anyone could say anything. “I didn’t give them details but I needed all the help I could get on such short notice.”
Lucky and Bulldog exchanged a look before Bulldog shrugged his shoulders. Lucky let out a long sigh. “I’ll allow it, but you should have informed me first before you did so.”
Keys nervously pushed his glasses up his nose. “It was three in the morning. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Lucky indicated for him to continue.
Keys started typing quickly, ducking his head down below the monitors in front of his chair.
The motel room on the screen spun as two people appeared in the room.
Neither had details, like hair or eye color, but it was obvious one was a tall man and one was an extremely skinny woman.
It reminded me of a beta version of a video game before features are added to the avatars.
As the image continued to spin, a red line came through the window and ended as a dot on the woman’s forehead. Both people in the room remained standing, though.
“From what we were able to determine, this is the angle of the bullet through the glass,” Keys explained. “I got a look at the shell casing the police found—”
“Wait,” Papaw interrupted. “He didn’t check his brass?”
Keys shook his head.
Papaw scowled. “Steel would never be so sloppy.” Realizing what he’d said and Keys’ stunned expression, he added, “Not that I think he did it. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, kid. I’m just saying, if he did, he wouldn’t have been so sloppy.”
Keys cleared his throat. “Um, right.” The screens split into two separate images.
On the right was the model of the motel room and on the left was a crime scene picture of a bronze shell casing in grass with an L-shaped ruler beside it.
“It’s a 51mm, but without the bullet, there’s no way to determine what model gun was used.
“If they did their homework, it would be an M40-A1,” Angel stated, and Papaw nodded.
“Why?” Lucky asked. “Marine snipers generally use MK-22s.”
I silently agreed. It had been the weapon I’d used as a Raider as well. I wasn’t a sniper like Steel had been, but I’d still been certified in LDKs—long distance kills.
“Not when Steel was trained,” Papaw explained. “In the 1990s, we used the M40s. It wasn’t until the mid-2000s that we changed over.” He pointed to the television screen. “They didn’t leave a shell casing because they’re sloppy. That bullet will trace back to Steel somehow.”
“Does Steel have a rifle?” Bulldog asked the room as a whole.
No one seemed to have that answer. To my knowledge, Steel had a SIG Sauer M18. Keys had other weapons stashed for when we might need it, but none of those weapons were registered, and therefore, couldn’t be traced back to us.
“Are there any fingerprints on the casing?” Bulldog asked Keys when no one could answer his other question.
Keys didn’t look happy to say, “It hasn’t been processed yet.”
Bear’s face darkened from his usual jovial expression as he sat forward. “How much do you want to bet that Steel’s fingerprint will be on there?”
There were no takers.
Lucky cracked his neck. “We need that shell casing. If Steel’s fingerprint is on it, it won’t matter what alibi we give him, he’s going down for murder.”
“Were you able to give Toni Steel’s alibi?
” Bulldog asked Keys. Toni Anderson was the club’s defense attorney.
She was a friend of our business attorney, Susan Brown.
When Lucky had been arrested two and a half years ago, it had been Toni who had gotten him out.
We didn’t call on her often, but she was still a good contact to have.
The kid nodded. “She had it Saturday morning. Said she’d be talking to the prosecutor first thing this morning.
” He made a face. “But it’s flimsy at best. All I did was prove what time Steel and Jenna arrived on property Thursday afternoon and that there was no evidence he left again before Friday morning.
Jenna is Steel’s only alibi at the time of the murder.
Ollie was still at Angel and Cage’s. I can prove his phone was on property, but again, that can be argued. ”
“And Jenna gave her statement to Carlos on Friday when I took her over.” Lucky rubbed his forehead like he was getting a headache. “He was helping Jenna bathe at the time of the murder.”
“Well, unless they have a photo of that with a credible timestamp, his fingerprint on the shell casing is going to trump a spouse’s alibi,” Demo said, pointing to the monitors.
“Keys, where is this?” Angel asked. “The murder didn’t happen in Mount Grove, did it?”
Keys shook his head. “Cottonville. DEA had them in that seedy motel off of I-99.”
“And where is the tower they think the shot came from?”
The image on the televisions zoomed out, following the red line from the model of Dixie Gilbert’s forehead, out the window, down a line of trees, over a hill, and finally to a cell tower.
A graphic of a large purple thumbtack landed in the grass at the base of the tower. “This is where the shell casing was found.”
That seemed like a good distance away, and outside of the police’s normal search radius.
Frowning, Pumpkin asked, “Why would they even search all the way out there?”
“They didn’t at first,” Keys answered. “From the initial report, they were only searching the parking lot and questioning witnesses. Fang claimed from the very beginning that he heard nothing beyond the breaking of the window glass and then Dixie falling. There was no gunshot or muzzle flash. When other guests of the motel claimed the same, the police started searching beyond their initial radius. Problem was, there was nothing there. You saw,” Keys added to no one in particular.
“That cell tower is the only thing between it and the motel window. There’s no other perches from that height and trajectory.
According to the report, Agent Strouse went out there on a whim and found the shell casing. ”
“Where is that shell casing now?” Lucky asked Keys.
Keys typed on his computer some more. “Harrisburg.”
Lucky looked down the table at Ranger. “You up for a little B and E?”
Ranger smiled. “Absolutely.”
“You can’t just take the casing,” Demo argued. “We need to replace it with one or somehow clean it. They’ll come down on all of us if they discover the casing is missing.”
“I don’t want you going alone,” Bulldog told Ranger.
“Ghost has gotten as much rest as you and Lucky,” Ranger argued. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
I was not about to let my brother go into such a situation alone. While I had no doubts of Ranger’s abilities, it never hurt to have someone watching your back, especially when breaking federal law.
“I’ll go,” I volunteered. “I have my four hours of auctioned labor this afternoon and am free after that.”
It wasn’t like we could break in during broad daylight anyway. Scar could, but then walls, doors, and locks didn’t seem to apply to my silent club brother.
“We’re hoping Toni is able to get Steel released on Jenna’s alibi and Keys’ security footage. But I still don’t want a possible shell casing out there with evidence pointing to Steel.” Lucky looked at Ranger and then me. “Leave no trace. Keys will be on coms.”
All three of us nodded. It looked like my day just got a little bit busier. First doing whatever it was Calliope needed done at her new store, and then breaking into an evidence lab in Harrisburg. I wondered offhandedly what chaos tomorrow was going to bring me.