Page 47 of Fatal Vision
Colton needed more facts, and answers to his questions before he dropped that kind of bomb on Connor.
While Salisbury watered every bush for the second time that day, Colton scanned the area, walked the property, and looked at the house from every angle. What he really wanted to do was kidnap Shelby and take her to a safe house. One in DC where Beatrice and the other Rock Stars were only minutes away in case anything went south.
But she would never leave her family and friends right now, and he couldn’t keep her shut away forever. The solution wasn’t putting her in a tower where no one could reach her. The solution was to find this asshole, whoever he was, and shut him down.
If that meant shutting down the entire 12 September group, Colton would do it.
The farmhouse sat on three acres, surrounded by the crop fields. The house and farm had belonged to Shelby’s grandparents.
The Good Hope-Good Homes housing development on the other side of the road had started during the boom of the early 2000s. It had petered out during the crash, the builder declaring bankruptcy and leaving multiple house skeletons standing unfinished. They were scattered every fifty yards or so, the ones closest to the main highway full of families and kids. Only the last to be built, out here at the end of the cul-de-sac, were empty.
The shooter that night had been in the house west of Shelby’s, using the window that faced the front porch to set up his rifle.
Colton had gone over the entire place with a fine-tooth comb, trying to figure out the exact spot where the shooter had stood, how long he’d been there, where he’d gone after he’d nearly killed Shelby. Having been an expert marksman himself, he knew how a sniper thought, what he carried, how he moved.
Yet after the shooting, he’d been so rattled, he’d had trouble getting into the sniper’s frame of mind. He hadn’t been able to go through the house skeleton to do his own research until after the cops and Feds had already trampled the place. If they’d found any trace evidence, they’d kept it to themselves. The trail wasn’t just cold by the time Colton finally left Shelby’s side at the hospital, it was completely nonexistent.
Dirt flew as Salisbury’s claws began digging, bringing Colton’s attention back to his own house—Shelby’shouse. Something grey appeared under the dog’s paws and Colton leaned down to get a better look.
A semi-flat football. Probably left there years ago by a young Jack, and over time, it had ended up buried.
Colton pulled it out with one hand and ruffled Salisbury’s fur with the other. “Good nose there, dog.”
He tossed the football out past the porch and watched Salisbury chase it. There’d been times he’d dreamed of playing catch and throwing the football with his own son back here. Those dreams seemed a million miles away now.
Beatrice had texted him about Paulina’s condition, saying it looked like she was stable, but it would be a long haul back to living on her own. His boss was even now trying to pull strings with child services to find Marcelo a nice home with a foster couple close to the hospital.
Salisbury hustled back, the ball in his yap. He dropped it at Colton’s feet.
Colton bent down and stared the mutt in the eyes. “Should I leave you here to guard the place or take you and your nose for trouble with me?”
Salisbury wagged his tail, leaned forward, and planted a sloppy kiss on Colton’s nose.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He and the dog went back in the house, Salisbury carrying the flat football once more. Connor and Shelby weren’t in the dining room and he followed their voices to the kitchen.
Their heads were bent together at the dining room table as Connor showed her how to use the Vesper app.
“That’s pretty damn cool,” she said, looking up to smile at Colton. “Not only can I use it for security, it can control the ceiling fans, water heater, lights, and sprinkler system.”
“You don’t have a sprinkler system, Shel,” he reminded her.
“I may have to get one, just so I can play with this more.”
He patted her shoulder. “The kit was missing a couple of screws. I’m going to head to the hardware store and grab some. I’ll be back in a bit.”
She grabbed his hand before he could remove it from her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Connor can help me whip up something for lunch. Then we better get back to the case.”
The feel of her soft hand on his made him want to stay. “Did you find more details on your laptop?”
“Nothing significant.”
“Have you seen the file on your shooting?”
She shook her head. “A few weeks ago, I called my friend, Denbe, at the office. He told me neither the police nor the Bureau found anything of merit. They’re not even sure where the shooter stood when he fired.”
Which didn’t make sense. While the local police had limited resources, the FBI could estimate where the shooter had been standing from the angle of the wound on Shelby’s head. They should have had the bullet, so they could run ballistics. At the very least, they could have figured out what type of weapon had fired it.
