Page 57 of The Hacker
“‘Handguns, rifles, shotguns, submachine guns, machine guns, grenade-based weapons, portable antimateriel weapons,’” she read. “I don’t even know what that last one means.”
“Those are used to shoot at tanks, airplanes, and buildings.”
“Jesus H. Christ! Are they outfitting an army?”
“Someone could, if they had the money to spend.” Leland clicked on the first menu heading, and a listing of handguns with accompanying photos popped up.
Most of the pictures were just a gun against a white background, but a few showed someone’s hands wrapped around the grip as though they were shooting it.
“It’s a long shot—pardon the pun.” Leland gave her a tight smile. “But I thought you might take a look at the ones with actual backgrounds. Maybe you’ll recognize a location in or near Cofferwood.”
When Dawn examined the screen more closely, she realized the photos with hands had more than blank walls behind them. Some seemed to have trees or grass or even an occasional bit of building. “They’re cropped so tightly around the gun that I can’t see much.”
“Keep looking because even a single location will help us.” He nudged the touch pad toward her so she could scroll through and enlarge the photos. Then he shifted his hand to her back, idly stroking up and down in a way that sent tingly shivers waltzing along her spine.
She glanced sideways to confirm that his gaze was still focused on the screen. After savoring his caresses for several seconds, she said, “I love it, but I can’t concentrate when you’re doing that.”
“What?” He swiveled to look at her in surprise, his hand still on her back.
She gave a little shrug under his palm.
“Oh, didn’t mean to distract you.” He lifted his hand away. Losing its warmth made her feel chilled, but the sweet seduction of his smile counteracted it when he said, “You generate a magnetic field so I’m drawn to you without being conscious of it.”
A delicious bliss filled her chest but she couldn’t let that show. “Aren’t magnets bad for computers?”
“That’s an old fear left over from the days of floppy disks. Nowadays computers actually use magnets internally, so my tech is safe around you.” His smile went a little crooked. “Although I’m not sure I am.”
The bliss swelled until she thought her rib cage might burst. “I like being dangerous to you.” She shifted to place a kiss on his smiling lips, the feel of them sending a happy little zing through her. “Now let me work.”
He rolled his chair a few inches away from her, which gave her some smug satisfaction. But she focused on the screen, examining the photos with care. She flipped to the second page and found a submenu that read: “Concealed Carry Compacts.” She clicked on that to find a few small pictures of short-barreled revolvers. One showed hands so she enlarged it.
And gasped.
“What is it?” Leland rolled his chair in close and peered at the screen.
“This is going to sound crazy but I think I recognize those fingernails.”
“Fingernails?”
“How often do you see leopard spots and rhinestones together in a manicure?” She scrutinized the picture closely. There were none of the rings Vicky usually wore, but maybe rings and shooting didn’t go together. “I think those are Vicky’s hands.”
Leland followed her gaze. “Granted, I know very little about manicures, but isn’t it possible for two women to have the same style?”
“Yes, but have you ever seen another human being with that combination of decorations on their nails? Besides, the shape of her hands is familiar too.” The copy under the photo touted how perfect the gun was for a woman’s small hands. “I guess they decided to make it very obvious the shooter is female. So the nails are a statement.”
The scary part was how expert Vicky’s hold seemed on the weapon, right hand around the grip, left hand around the right, thumbs stacked along the side. Of course, she might have been coached, but the image still sent a chill through Dawn’s brain, especially when she remembered that there was video of Leland and her going into Vicky and Ramón’s office.
Leland muttered a curse. “How did a gym owner get mixed up with arms dealers in Cofferwood, New Jersey?”
“The Mafia? They’re still around in Jersey, I hear. Vicky could be related for all I know.” She certainly looked like a mob moll.
“My understanding is that these days the Mafia is more about drugs, prostitution, and extortion. Arms dealing isn’t really their bailiwick.”
“‘Bailiwick’? Has the mob gone British?” Dawn teased. “They have territories.”
“You’re an authority on organized crime?”
“More of an authority than someone from Georgia.”
