Page 42 of Disarming Caine

“Good. And make it fast.” She glared at him, which turned rapidly to a smile for Quinn. On her way inside, she said to me, “Let me know if you find anything interesting. I need all the distractions I can get right about now.”

“Will do.” I turned to Harry. “No, I don’t think she would.”

Quinn added, “You’re responding based on your interactions with and assumptions about Rhonda. Do we have all the details we need to make an objective assessment?”

“No.” That answer was easy. If it was yes, she wouldn’t have asked. Butwhatwere we missing? “I did the initial interview with Rhonda—even though I probably shouldn’t have. We have the video and preliminary report from the police. Ferraro’s estimate is in for the repair. One red flag on the claim for it being the second loss within a year.”

“And we’re missing…” Harry’s brows rose, expectant.

“Well, we don’t have the final report from the police, and we’re pretty sure one bullet is unaccounted for.”

“Which means…”

It meant the police were screwing this up like they had the Scott fire case. They were missing things or hurrying. Or just didn’t care. “It means we can’t rely on the police report, can we?”

“Exactly.” Harry nodded. “As far as Foster Mutual is concerned, I don’t suspect anything fraudulent on this claim. I wanted to go over this more to keep you alert going forward. We’ve been having issues with sub-par investigations for going on a year now. It’s hard to tell with many claims if it’s some failing in the police department or if it’s related to what Roger did. We don’t know yet how many people he paid off or lied to, which makes our job harder than usual.”

“Like with the Scott case, which was closed as accidental.”

“You have good instincts,” he said. “You were in motion before the shots started, so you must have realized something was happening before the gun was even out of the window. Focus on those instincts and never be afraid to verify the evidence that’s presented or redo an interview.”

“But no recruiting, right?” said Quinn, who received a frown from Harry.

I stared at the spot on the frame Rhonda had complained about. It was shoddy work, like she said. Granted, the wall was old enough the brick and mortar had crumbled in areas, leaving several holes and gaps. Without redoing the entire facing, it would be hard to make a perfect repair.

The sun glinted off something in one hole, around five feet up from the sidewalk.Was that brass?My heartrate picked up. I closed in on the wall, casting a shadow over it, losing sight of what had caught my attention.

“Find something?” Quinn’s face came even with mine.

“Possibly.” I pulled out my phone and directed the light into a hole in the mortar, then pulled off my gloves to pick at some loose pieces around it. The cold bit at my fingers and one of my already chipped nails tore off. It had to be the missing bullet. “I don’t suppose either of you have pliers on you? I have some in my truck, but—”

A pair of pliers appeared from one of Harry’s pockets.

Whatever brass-colored thing was stuck in there was in deep and didn’t want to come out. I dug the pliers into the hole, using them to break up some of the loose material until I could get a proper grip. Leaning against the wall for leverage, I heaved on it until it flung out. It was so sudden, I lost my grasp on the pliers, and the bullet went skittering across the sidewalk. “Shit!”

Harry and Quinn leaped after it with me, but my reflexes were the fastest. I was down on my hands and knees, scrambling before it dropped into a storm drain.

“Thank god it didn’t go down the—” In a crevice left by the concrete eroding around the edge of the drain, another flash of metal. A bullet casing. And it looked fresh. Not worn down by months sitting here, being run over, trampled, and pummeled by rain or snow.

I stood, holding the bullet from the wall and the fresh casing. Harry produced a clear bag from one of his pockets, and I dumped them in.

“Interesting.” Quinn took the bag, examining the two items. “I was going to say, if the police found seven bullet casings, they would have been looking for a seventh bullet. They obviously missed both of these.”

“Not standard procedure.” Harry joined Quinn, inspecting the bag. “We’ve contaminated the evidence—”

Quinn interrupted, holding the bag toward me. “But the police already have everything they need.”

I reached for it, but hesitated.

Harry took the bag and stood beside me, folding the plastic around the casing. “You destroyed the bullet, so no evidence is coming off it the police don’t already have. But the casing has some key markings.”

Nodding, I accepted the bag and rotated the casing. “Not as accurate for tracing as a good bullet, but there are still distinct marks, including at the back from the firing pin.”

“Good job.” He clapped me on the shoulder and headed for the truck. “Keep it as a souvenir.”

This bullet could have been the one to pierce the second window. It could have deflected like the first one and landed somewhere unpredictable. This bullet could have landed in me.

But just like the table saved my life last night, the brick post may have saved my life Saturday. I was definitely keeping the damn bullet.

---