victim, James Santorini. Realistically, things could change a lot after our 5:30 p.m. meeting, so it might be better to put this case on hold. I decide now is as good a time as any to dedicate to the fourteen-year-old boy thatâs been on my case list for two weeks. This job is all about juggling cases and sometimes itâs hard to listen to your head and not your heart. But my headâs won out for too long on this one.
To give myself the biggest chunk of time possible on Santoriniâs murder, I work through lunch, shoveling down a quick sandwich at my desk. Not that eating at my desk is unusual for me. At 2:30 p.m. I give Ramos a call to let him know Iâm not going to make the ballistics run-through. Heâs busy, too, going over the initial reports on the cars at the parking lot, so we agree that Hart can call us with the findings once sheâs done.
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Itâs 4:00 p.m. when Hart calls. âHey, Anderson. Iâve got Ramos on the line, too.â
âHi.â I get us straight down to business. âHowâd you do, Hart?â
âIn terms of daylight, I tried quite a few different simulations of the sunâs position, and it was only in the early morning light, when the sun was shining directly in my eyes while I aimed at the light, that it was hard to see the bulbs.â
âI still donât see him taking the shot in daylight,â Ramos says. âItâs just too risky in terms of witnesses. Even with a silencer.â
âAgree,â I say.
âYes, but I needed to try all the options.â
âFair enough,â Ramos says. âGo on.â
âDusk works, too. I could still see the bulbs quite clearly.â
âAnd nighttime?â I ask.
âIt was a three-quarter moon that night and clear skies, so the shooter would have had a little extra light, but even so, during the simulation I couldnât make out the bulbs. The brightness of the panels against the dark sky made it impossible. I couldnât even make out the four distinct panels.â
âBut broad daylight?â Ramos voices his doubts again.
âWell, I did have a thought on that. I couldnât see them, but I still managed to shoot out the bulbs.â She takes a breath. âThe shooter could have made the shot at night if he studied the lights during the day,â she says.
âEither way, it confirmsââ My train of thought is interrupted by sudden and intense nausea.
Itâs dark, and a few parked cars surround me. I look around, somewhat cautiously, but my heartbeat has barely risen above its resting rate of sixty-seven. Convinced Iâm alone, I line up my gunâs sights, breathe out and pull the trigger. The light shatters, and the edge of the parking lot is instantly darker. Flashlight in hand, I look for the bullet and pick it up. I never leave clues. Three more bullets later, my mission is accomplished .
Iâm sitting down, tied to a chair, when the deafening sound of a gun going off close range hits me. Searing pain follows .
âYou there, Anderson?â
Itâs Ramosâs voice I hear first.
âYeah, sorry.â
âAre you okay?â Hart asks.
I think on my feet. âFine. The phone went dead this end. You?â I try to bring my heart rate down with a few deep, but quiet breaths. Unlike the shooter in my vision, my heart is pounding.
âUmâ¦I guess it did here, too,â Hart replies. âYou cut out just as you were saying something about âit confirms.ââ
âOh, yeah.â I bite my lip. âIt confirms that the murder was planned. Premeditated.â It was always more likely that the light was taken out before the murder, but until now we couldnât rule out the possibility that someone killed our vic in the heat of the moment and then shot out the light in an attempt to cover their tracks.
âIâm still surprised there arenât any witnesses,â Ramos