Hard Return (8 page)

The cops’ motto was “To protect and serve.” First and foremost, though, protect and serve your
self
.

This man couldn’t be ignorant of tactics.

Tactically, if possible, the shooter would kill the kid he was hired to kill early on. Maybe in the first three or four, maybe the first seven, but it was doubtful he’d go beyond that. Time had a way of moving forward, dynamics changed, the window of opportunity slammed shut, and you didn’t want to come away empty-handed.

This was borne out in the man’s actions. He had gone into the lot and walked one way along the rows of cars, then turned and walked back.

Another memory:
the shooter only went halfway through the parking lot before turning around
.

Which meant his target was closer to the exit gate than to the school building when the shooter started. He aimed at the kids who came out first and were making their way through the parking lot—and his target was in the vanguard of that group.

His target had been one of the first of the kids to come outside.

Landry had drawn a diagram of the parking lot, including his own position across the street. He had drawn it from a diagram put out by the
Los Angeles Times
that was everywhere on the Internet.

Landry’s trued up pretty well with their diagram. There were black circles where each of the kids had fallen—the dead and the injured.

Tomey was the only other student who, to Landry, appeared exceptional—except for Kristal and Luke.

Kristal was the obvious choice, because of who her dad was.

As much as he would look at the other victims, Landry had a feeling that the shooter had been aiming for Kristal and Luke. And the only reason he would do that would be to draw Landry out.

Then his cell rang. It was Special Agent Andrew Keller.

CHAPTER
12

Taylor Brennan, 17: Taylor wanted to be a singer. Her friends and family said that was all she thought about. She had big ambitions, and even made it to
America’s Got Talent
. Her idols were Ke$ha, Ciara, and Beyoncé. She loved her cat, Timmy. She was fun to be around, and was the life of every party. —“In Memoriam,” Special Section, the
Los Angeles Times

Landry was surprised by Keller’s call. He would have thought that by now the FBI agent would have copped to the fact that Landry was a fake.

Must be busy over there.

“Jim Branch, Zephyr PD,” Landry said.

“Jim—Special Agent Andrew Keller.”

“Andrew. Hello.”

“I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

There was a slight hesitation. Then: “Look, I’m taking a risk with you and I hope it’s justified.”

Landry waited.

“This can’t go any further.”

“I understand, sir.”

A pause. “Was there anything about your guy that was unusual?”

“Unusual?”

Silence. Keller was conflicted about talking to him. Landry’s guess was that Keller was on to something, and thought his new friend at Podunk PD in Montana might just have some corroborating evidence.

Think fast. What could it be? Something to do with the body, was his best guess.

“Anything unusual at all?” Keller said.

“Well, yeah.” There were only so many things it could be, so Landry made an educated guess. “There was. We found traces of wax on the steering wheel. Is that what you’re talking about?”

Silence.

Bingo.

Professionals removed their fingerprints a certain way. They spread laminated latex over a soft gelatin pad, wrapped the pad around their fingers down to halfway, and let the mixture warm under an ultraviolet lamp for approximately sixty seconds. The wax coating would eliminate fingerprints.

Landry decided to give him a nudge. “Latex? That was my thinking.”

“Your guy—you think he was just some backwoods asshole with a grievance?”

“No, I don’t.”

“So there were traces of latex on the steering wheel?”

“Roger that.”

“You sound like you were in the military.”

“I was.”

“Elite?”

“What kind of question is that?” Landry said.

“Elite. I thought so.”

Landry waited.

“You ever hear of a company named Sabrecor?”

“Sabrecor?”

Landry wished the guy would stop playing coy. He decided to rise to the bait. “I’ve heard of them. Works with the military, or is it the government? Top-secret stuff, right? You think they have something to do with this?”

“We think there might be a connection. One of their products.”

“One of their products?” That would mean an institution of some sort. A company specializing in special ops, or another type of institution—for instance, a government.

Keller said, “Another thing. Whoever shot the shooter placed the shot perfectly.”

“I thought the shooter was killed by a security guard.”

“That was what we put out to the press, yeah.”

Landry said nothing. He’d hunted at many a waterhole, and he knew not to spook the target.

Then Keller said, “Thing I want to know is, why would someone shoot the shooter?”

Landry pretended to think about it. He decided it was time to state the obvious, since that was where Keller was headed. “Maybe that was the plan all along? Hire somebody to shoot up the school and then shoot the shooter? If it was me, I would be worried the first guy would get caught.”

“Yeah. What I was thinking. Dead men tell no tales.”

Landry said nothing.

The silence stretched. Then: “I was just thinking out loud,” Keller said. “You
sure
that was wax on that steering wheel?”

“Yeah. I’ll go look for the pics, although I can’t guarantee—”

“Okay. Look. Not a—”

“—word. I know.”

“Where were you?”

“Iraq. Afghanistan.” He rattled off a battalion he didn’t belong to.

“Might’ve run into you. Well, you take care now, and tell your brother I’ll be coming out there soon.”

“Come in June. The cutties will be rising by then.”

“You know it!” Keller disconnected.

Landry removed the SIM card from his burner phone and stomped it to pieces. He dumped the
LA Times
into his duffle and hit the road back in the direction of San Diego—putting as much distance between himself and the phone as possible. He guessed Agent Keller had triangulated the call.

A minute later, he saw a cop car, lights off, moving fast in the opposite lane. In his rearview he watched the car take the El Centro exit.

Inconclusive. But better safe than sorry.

He drove back the way he’d come, landed in Mission Bay, and found a backwater motel from the fifties. He suspected that the clerk looked the other way, and often, judging from the cars parked out front. It was a place where no one would ask questions.

It was stultifying in the room, so he grabbed his laptop and went out onto the walkway outside his door. It was now almost three in the morning and no one was around. Down at the end of the walkway, the ice machine ruminated. He looked out at the sliver of bay he could see from here. The smell of seaweed and fish was stronger. He sat down on the resin chair beside the door. The wind was picking up. A paper cup scuttled through the parking lot and the dwarf palm fronds heaved in the sea-scented air. Landry found the “In Memoriam” page and stared at it in the yellow of the porch light. The neon sign sizzled nearby, making him think of a busy hive of bees.

His brain felt like that.

He had several pieces of information. Some pieces would be superfluous, and he’d have to toss them out: triage.

According to Special Agent Andrew Keller (if he was telling the truth) the FBI was operating on the theory that the first shooter had been taken out by a second shooter, and that the second shooter had been hired just for that purpose. Which meant that Special Agent Keller believed that this shooting had bigger implications. The SA had been on a fishing expedition, and he had tipped his hand.

By now Landry was fairly certain that Keller would have done a background check on “Detective Jim Branch” and would have discovered there was no such person. In fact, he would have found out that there was no Deer Valley Community College, no Zephyr, Montana, and no brother with a hunting lodge.

Landry was likely now Keller’s chief suspect as the man who took out the shooter.

And yet Keller had given him information—the existence of Sabrecor. In the hope that Landry would say something stupid?

What was he trying to find out? What did he think Landry knew?

What was the bigger picture?

Had Keller used a story about the cooked fingerprints as bait? Or was there a shred of truth to it?

There still was the possibility that the special agent
wasn’t
on to him, in which case Landry could learn a lot more . . . No. He couldn’t take a chance.

Landry had enough to go on. If in fact Keller was telling the truth, he’d learned something important about the shooter. If the shooter had indeed cooked his prints, he was a serious operative, and in this way Landry could narrow his search.

Sabrecor International
. The mention of Sabrecor was intriguing. Landry had heard stories about them, but they were only stories. Sabrecor International was a deep dark secret. They worked with the United States government. They worked for other governments, too.

Even mentioning Sabrecor to a civilian was taking a chance. Was Keller trying to get something out of him?

Landry thought so. The only thing he didn’t know was why. But he had to start somewhere, so he would start with the idea that this killer had indeed been hired to shoot up the school—which led him back to the students killed.

The most obvious secondary target was Landry himself. If someone suspected he was alive, they might try to draw him out. The only thing that would make him break cover was a threat to his daughter or his wife.

He removed another burner from his duffle and put in a call to Gary.

Gary responded within the hour. “What’s going on?”

“You need to get Cindi and Kristal to a safe place.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

“This is not a game,” Landry said. “If you don’t get them to go now, their deaths could be on your head. You saw what happened at the school.”

“You gave up your right to call the shots, bro. I—”

“If someone’s after me, if someone knows I’m alive, what are they going to do? Use your brains. How will they try to find me?”

A pause on the other end of the line.

“Bingo.”

“So you think . . . ?”

“They were trying to get to me? Yes. I’m looking at the other kids. I’m going to eliminate all of them to make sure, but—”

“It’s you.”

Landry heard the accusation in his brother’s voice. “I want to get them out of here fast. Any ideas?”

“I don’t . . .” Gary was silent for a moment. “It could work.”

“What?”

“Jim’s training for Robby Marin now.”

Landry knew whom his older brother was training for. “So?”

“Then you probably know Monica’s Selfie won the Santa Anita Derby.”

Landry saw where Gary was going with this. “He’s going to the Derby.”

“Well, yeah. The horse came out of it okay. Not sure he can get a mile and a quarter but—”

“Focus, Gary. This is important. He’s taking the horse to the Kentucky Derby.”

“Uh-huh. Man, he’s loaded for bear this year. Has three with enough to get in the gate, and one on the bubble. So what if he asked Cindi and Kristal to go?”

“They
have
to go.”

“Whoa, bud. They don’t have to do anything. I’m betting Kristal won’t wanna go anywhere.”

“She’s going to miss a chance to go to the Kentucky Derby?”

“Her boyfriend was shot to death trying to save her life. Might just be she’s not up to having a good time.”

“It will take her mind off her troubles.” Even as he said it, he realized he’d said the wrong thing. And truth was, he didn’t really believe that. Kristal was in love—at least what passed for love in a teenager’s eyes. And considering what Luke had done to save her life, it was plain to Landry that she’d loved the right kid after all.

Gary’s voice broke his thoughts in half. “What the hell’s the
matter
with you?”

“What’s the matter with
me
? I’m trying to save their lives. If the man who ordered that school shot up is after me, then he’s not going to stop until he draws me out. He has one lever, and he’ll use it if he can. You know that.”

Silence on the other end.

“You get my point,” Landry said.

“Sure I do, but I don’t know if I can get them to go. It’s a free country.”

“Tell them they need a change of scenery.”

“It’s not like it’s you telling Cindi. Those days are over.”

“I know my wife. Her first thought is that someone’s trying to get to me through her.”

“She thinks you’re dead, bro.”

“Yeah. But—”

“Look, I’ll do what I can.”

“No,” Landry said. “You’ll
do
it. I don’t care what it takes, you get them out of there, and you do it fast enough they don’t talk about it.”

Landry could almost hear his brother think. “I’m gonna need money. Airfare and a place to put them up.”

“I’ll reimburse you.”

Left unsaid between them: Landry had infused Gary’s farm with money several times in the last three years. It was because he loved his brother, and because he didn’t need much money living the way he did, but it was also a way to make sure Gary kept his silence.

Landry believed in redundancy. He never left something to chance, even loyalty. Even though he knew his brother would never betray him. It might be the only thing he knew for sure. He could trust Gary with his life. He
did
trust Gary with his life.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Gary said.

“About what?”

“All of it. Letting them think you’re dead—”

“Stop.”

“It’s just—”

“No.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll get them to go somehow.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. Kristal used to love being on the backstretch.”

“When she was a little girl. She’s all grown up, almost . . . Ah, man, poor kid.”

“Someone may be after them.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know enough not to take a chance. You know that, Gary. You have to get them to go.”

“If they’re that good—whoever they are—they could easily find them in Kentucky.”

“If they know.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see if we can make it a surprise.” He added, “She’ll want to go.”

Todd the comptroller. Landry tasted iron in his mouth and his throat was suddenly full.
It’s your fault
, he told himself.
You’re not there. You gave up your right to your wife
. But he said, “You sure she’s sleeping with him?”

“What do
you
think?”

“You’re a sarcastic SOB.”

“And you’re nuts if you think after three years Cindi and Kristal aren’t gonna move on. They’re alive. And as far as they know, you’re dead.”

“I know that.”

“Maybe you should think about keeping it that way.” Gary cleared his throat. “It’s not the same, bro. It will never be the same. It’s been three years and they’ve moved on. They had to get over you and now they
are
over you. You can’t un-ring a bell like that . . .”

“I’m not going to—”

“I know you. You’re gonna try. I’m just telling you it’s not going to work.”

“Listen—”

“What are you going to tell them? That the guy was trying to draw you out so he shot up the school?”

“You don’t know that for sure. Neither do I.”

“You don’t think Kristal will blame you for Luke?”

That got through. Yes, that was exactly what his daughter would do. And she would be right. He said nothing, because there was nothing to say.

Gary sighed. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll figure out a way, but you can bet Cindi will want Todd to go with her.”