Free The Right Call by Kathy Herman

foundations for the tract homes in Misty Meadows. You going to be able to handle twelve-hour days?”
    “Sure. Any chance I could come to work an hour earlier and leave at six p.m.?” He locked gazes with Uncle Ralph and tried not to smile first.
    A broad grin appeared between Ralph’s salted red mustache and beard. “Something tells me we wouldn’t be seeing much of you even if you were staying here.”
    “I want to spend as much time as I can with Vanessa and Carter over the summer. All I’ve got are evenings and Sundays.”
    “You two getting serious?”
    “It’s difficult being away from her, that’s for sure.” Ethan grabbed two more cookies. “These are to die for, Aunt Gwen.”
    “Take as many as you want. I quadrupled the recipe so I’ll have enough to freeze. Want milk?”
    “Sure, but I can get it.”
    “No, sit. I’ll get it. Give us the inside scoop on the shooting investigation.”
    “I don’t know any more than the media’s reported. Chief Jessup doesn’t discuss police business with me.”
    Gwen’s eyebrows came together. “Doesn’t Vanessa?”
    “Her mom doesn’t tell her either. There are some things the police aren’t free to talk about, not even with family.”
    Ralph laughed. “Nice try, honey. Looks like your mahjong ladies are going to have to follow the story on TV like the rest of us.”

    Brill sat at the conference table in her office, the Roberts and Davison case files open in front of her, and tried to sum up what they had determined so far.
    The same nine-millimeter gun was used in both shootings, and matching bullets were recovered in the wall at Woodall’s Grocery and the door at Milligan’s Realty Company.
    Taking into account the statements of eyewitnesses and the trajectory of the bullets recovered, the shooter was the passenger in a red late-model truck going west on Stoneleigh. He fired several shots and hit Tal Davison, then turned south on First Street and fired more shots and hit Woodall’s Grocery. He continued driving south five blocks, then turned east on Essex, still firing, and hit Skyler Roberts. He continued on to Fifth Street, then turned north and fired more shots, hitting Milligan’s Realty before arriving back at his starting point on Stoneleigh. Five square blocks. That could easily have been done in a few minutes.
    What kind of message was this shooting supposed to send? Neither victim had any obvious connection to a gang or drug dealer. Were they just some random shooter’s collateral damage?
    She heard a knock on the door and looked up just in time to see Trent come through the doorway.
    He walked over and stood at the conference table, reeking of cigarette smoke. “We have a witness who said the shooter’s truck was a Ford F-150.”
    “Good. One more piece of the puzzle.”
    Trent smiled. “There’s more. We know that the bullets we recovered all came from the same gun. And ballistics has now determined that the rifling profile of those nine-millimeter Luger-type bullets is unique to Smith and Wesson’s second- and third- generation semiautomatic pistols, which includes all four-digit model numbers. They’re the only known manufacturer to use that rifling profile.”
    “Well, that narrows it down. And we already eliminated Win Davison’s gun. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
    “I see you’re looking through the files. Did you come up with something new?”
    “No. Your detectives did a thorough job. Have we heard back from the FBI’s gang unit about the graffiti?
    “Not conclusively. They want to take another look at it. But they’ve never seen this graffiti before and aren’t convinced it’s authentic.”
    “Then we’re on the same page. This looks to me like someone trying too hard to make it look like gang involvement. The question is who—and why?”
    “We have no motive in the death of either victim.”
    “Yet. We’re obviously missing something.” She paused for a moment and considered what she was about to