Chapter Twenty-Seven
Spike let out what sounded suspiciously like a doggy death rattle for sympathy a second before he opened his big brown eyes to look up at her. Jess leaned close so he could see her as the anesthesia wore off. At the sight of her, his stubby tail made two thumps on the table.
“I hope you don’t expect me to feel sorry for you,” she said and his tail thumped again. “You were supposed to stay in the car.”
He blinked.
“You are not a trained police dog so you don’t take bullets for me, you big goofball, even if they were just pellets.” Thank God the sniper hadn’t time to reload her .22. She’d gotten one shot off, hence the gun report Jess had heard, but that was it. She had to shoot Spike with her pellet gun. The damage to his chest and muzzle had been bloody but superficial.
Jess reached out and rubbed his soft ears, her heart swelling with love for the big mutt. She kissed his muzzle. “If you ever do that again, I’ll shoot you myself.”
The door opened behind her. Wheeler stepped in. “How’s the patient?” He joined them and examined the bandage wrapped around the front half of the dog.
“Spike was close when she shot him, so the pellets broke the skin and he got a couple of stiches. What we can’t figure out is why he went down. Unless he was just hoping for sympathy from me?” With her dog, there was no telling.
Sam stared down at Spike as the dog’s tail thumped. Finally, Sam reached out to scratch his big head. Spike groaned happily.
“I’m thankful she used non-lethal force on Spike and only shot the door instead of me,” she said.
“Either way, she’s a menace. We have to find her.”
Summer and Heather came in to give Spike some love, and then they all left so he could rest. The vet wanted to keep him overnight so he could run some tests. Otherwise, her pup would recover fully.
“If you need me to babysit once he comes home, call me,” Heather said. “Classes don’t start for a few more days.”
Jess hugged her with one arm. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Summer and Heather’s mother was a flake and had left Heather in Texas to run off with a long haul trucker. Heather had found her way to Michigan on her own and was living with Summer and Jason. She was a smart girl who was about to start college at the University of Michigan.
Summer and Heather took off. Sam took Jess’s hands. “You hanging in there, tough girl?”
“I am.” She dropped her forehead onto his chest. “When I find our sniper, I’m going to snap off her arms and legs with my bare hands. She won’t be shooting anyone anymore.”
“Sounds gruesome.”
Lifting her head, she smiled evilly. “I had darker ideas formulated but I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person.”
Grinning, he cupped her face. “I’d never think that.”
* * *
They went back to the motel and Wade walked them through the clues. “We suspect the door was rigged with a small pipe bomb meant to give the sniper time to escape but not to kill. There wasn’t enough juice for lethal damage. The ATF will confirm.”
“A bomb?” Jess’s head pounded. No wonder the blast was so big. “What’s next? Hand grenades? Flame throwers?” The crazy train had shot off the rails.
“She’s playing games,” Sam said. She nodded.
Jess and Sam followed Wade into the room.
“We have fingerprints on everything. Since it’s a motel, a lot of fingerprints are expected.” They walked into the bathroom. “What we looked for were personal items that she touched, like toiletries.”
He indicated an all-in-one shampoo/conditioner bottle, some deodorant, and a hairbrush. Jess frowned. “That’s it?”
Wade nodded. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said to Jess. “But women usually have much more stuff that this. We didn’t find makeup or a curling iron or even a toothbrush. Whoever this woman is, she’s not your normal female.”
As a fan of good oral hygiene, Jess tried to imagine one day without at least two good brushings, minimum. “You’re right. She isn’t normal.”
“If she is a contract sniper, then I suspect she travels light for an easy escape,” Wade added. “Still, I’ve seen prisoners with at least a bottle of lotion and a razor.
Sam bent and examined the items. The bottle was covered with fingerprint powder. “We’ll have DNA from her hair and fingerprints, so we don’t need anything else. With luck, she’ll be in the system.”
While the two men conversed about evidence, Jess wandered back into the bedroom. She took a pair of latex gloves from an open box on the desk. Although it appeared that the techs had cleared the room of evidence, she didn’t want to touch anything the sniper touched.
A small black suitcase sat in one corner. Wade was right; she did travel light. She lifted the lid with one fingertip and saw a Field and Stream magazine next to a pair of cheap black running shoes. For quick getaways, no doubt.
She dropped the lid. Next she opened the top drawer of the scarred dresser. Inside was a bible lying next to a couple pairs of institutional white granny panties and a plain gray bra without lace or bedazzle.
Interesting. This explained the lack of frilly stuff in the bathroom. The woman wasn’t girly at all.
Moving on, she looked into the other drawers, finding a couple pairs of black jeans and black long sleeve T-shirts. A black hoodie was folded in the bottom drawer.
“Anything interesting?” Sam asked as he joined her.
“I agree with Wade about her traveling light, but that doesn’t explain this.” She pulled open the top drawer again. He peered in at the drab undies. “I’ve been around a lot of women in my life, and even the biggest tomboy has something girly to wear underneath her clothes. It’s hard to buy undies without a bow or lace or in a pretty color. Manufacturers play up to the female market.”
“I’ve seen my share of bras and panties up close and I agree,” he said in a serious voice. “This is strange.”
The detective was mocking her. “Funny. What I’m getting at is that I think she probably grew up in a household with all brothers, or maybe without a mother. Her clothing choices are uninteresting like she tried to fit in with the males in her family. And she has a sportsman’s magazine in her suitcase. I don’t believe she’s a professional sniper at all. I think she’s just a hunter.”
* * *
Before answering, Sam walked to the suitcase and looked inside. “It is an unusual reading choice to take on a shooting spree. But a lot of women hunt and fish. Yet, this does confirm our suspicion that she likely isn’t a pro. She may have gotten lucky at the church when she hit Tom.”
“Jess is right,” Becky chimed in from the doorway. Her eyes were locked on Sam. “I have a friend who grew up with five brothers. They teased her unmercifully if she wore anything pretty. She finally gave up and kept her dresses at my house until high school. By then she didn’t care what they thought.”
“Or she just hates lace,” Wade added. “I do think Jess is right about the hunter angle. She doesn’t carry herself like a professional sniper.”
Any conclusions at this point were speculations. Except for her tomboy undies and her magazine, they knew zip about her or her motives.
Becky bagged the clothes and the magazine and carried the suitcase out with her. Sam led Jess outside.
“I talked to the clerk and the sniper, Jane Jones, paid him a hundred bucks to call her if anyone asked about her. However, he claimed he didn’t make this call and asked for a lawyer. I think he’s covering his ass.”
“Bastard.” Jess should have known he was shady. His smile was forced. “He could have gotten me killed had she made a bigger bomb.”
Sam glanced up at the clouds darkening the sky and back down at her. “In his defense, he thought you were the wife of the man the sniper was having an affair with. That was her story. He’s freaked out and worried, rightfully, that I’m going to charge him with something.”
The guy was a pawn. With a good attorney, he’d probably get no jail time. “I appreciate the image of him in prison orange but we’re still short one shooter.”
The detective watched the crime scene crew finish up and load their vehicles. As Wade and Becky drove off, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat.
“It’s time to get our hands on those letters.”