Free Saving Faith by David Baldacci Page B

body. As the only woman here, and Newman’s squad supervisor to boot, Reynolds didn’t feel she had the luxury of dissolving into tears in front of them. The vast majority of FBI agents went through their entire careers without ever even drawing their sidearms except for weapons recertification. Reynolds had sometimes wondered how she would react if such a catastrophe ever hit home. Now she knew: Not very well.
    This was probably the most important case Reynolds would ever handle. A while back, she had been assigned to the Bureau’s Public Corruption Unit, a component of the illustrious Criminal Investigation Division. After receiving a phone call from Faith Lockhart one night and secretly meeting the woman on several occasions, Reynolds had been named the squad supervisor of a unit detailed to a special. That “special” had the opportunity, if Lockhart was telling the truth, to topple some of the biggest names in the United States government. Most agents would die for such a case during their careers. Well, one had tonight.
    Reynolds held up the tape. “I’m hoping this tape will tell us something of what happened here. And what happened to Faith Lockhart.”
    “You think it’s likely she shot Ken? If so, a nationwide APB goes out in about two seconds,” Massey said.
    Reynolds shook her head. “My gut tells me she had nothing to do with it. But the fact is we don’t know enough. We’ll check the blood type and other residue. If it only matches Ken’s, then we know she wasn’t hit as well. We know Ken hadn’t fired his gun. And he had on his vest. Something took a chunk out of his Glock, though.”
    Connie nodded. “The bullet that killed him. Through the back of the neck and out the front. He had his weapon out, probably eye-height, the slug hit and deflected off it.” Connie swallowed with difficulty. “The residue on Ken’s pistol supports that conclusion.”
    Reynolds stared sadly at the man and continued the analysis. “So Ken might have been between Lockhart and the shooter?”
    Connie slowly shook his head. “Human shield. I thought only the Secret Service did that crap.”
    Reynolds said, “I spoke with the ME. We won’t know anything until the post and we can see the wound track, but I think it was most likely a rifle shot. Not the sort of weapon a woman ordinarily carries in her purse.”
    “So another person waiting for them?” Massey ventured.
    “And why would that person kill and then go inside the house?” Connie asked.
    “Maybe it was Newman and Lockhart who went in the house,” Massey surmised.
    Reynolds knew it had been years since Massey had worked a field investigation, but he was still her ADIC and she couldn’t very well ignore him. She didn’t have to agree with him, though.
    Reynolds shook her head decisively. “If they had gone in the house, Ken wouldn’t have been killed in the driveway. They’d still be in the house. We interview Lockhart for at least two hours each time. We got here a half hour after they would have, tops. And those weren’t Ken’s boots. But they are men’s boots, about a size twelve. Odds are a big guy.”
    “If Newman and Lockhart didn’t go in the house, and there are no signs of forced entry, then this third party had the pass-code to the alarm.” Massey’s tone was clearly accusatory.
    Reynolds looked miserable, but she had to keep going. “From where Ken fell, it looked like he had just gotten out of the car. Then something must have spooked Ken. He pulls his Glock and then takes the round.”
    Reynolds led them over to the driveway. “Look at the rut marks here. The ground around here is reasonably dry, but the tires really gouged the dirt. I think somebody was getting out of here in a hurry. Hell, fast enough that he ran out of his boots.”
    “And Lockhart?”
    “Maybe the shooter took her with him,” Connie said.
    Reynolds thought about this. “It’s possible, but I don’t see why. They’d want her dead too.”
    “In the