The Silence (Columbia River #2)(43)

He quietly went up the porch stairs, intending to get Nora and leave. They’d brought bad news to the charming white home, and he had an overwhelming desire to get out before the kids entered it.

Hopefully Nora and Veronica are finished, because I certainly am.





17

Ava and Zander jogged out of the church, Pat right on their heels. They stopped at Zander’s SUV to grab gloves and evidence bags out of the back.

“Please tell me the garbage hasn’t been picked up since the shooting,” Ava said to Pat as they dug through the large kit.

“Nope. Tomorrow is garbage day.”

“Ready?” Zander said to Ava as she pulled on her second glove. His eyes were bright.

“Absolutely.” They strode over to the dumpster, and Zander told Pat not to walk where they’d seen their suspect move between his car and the huge bin. The dumpster was much taller than it had seemed on the video. The top was even with her forehead. Zander threw open one side of the lid and met Ava’s gaze as a foul odor filled the air.

“Who’s going in?” he asked.

“I’ll leave that honor to you.” The smell turned her stomach.

He grinned, braced his foot on a small ledge on the dumpster’s side, and easily clambered up to the edge. “I see the backpack. There’s not much garbage in here.”

“Slow week,” said Pat. “No meetings or gatherings were scheduled.”

Zander awkwardly shot a few one-handed photos of the inside of the dumpster and then dropped inside, out of sight. He cursed.

“What is it?” asked Ava.

“Don’t know what I landed on, but it was big and it squished. Luckily it was inside a garbage bag. Hey, Ava, can you take some more photos as I grab this?”

“Sure.” She eyed the narrow ledge that Zander had stood on and tentatively tested it with her foot, glad she’d worn flats.

“I’ll balance you,” offered Pat.

“Thanks.” Otherwise she would have had to hang over the edge on her belly to take photos. She hopped up and Pat grabbed her waist, holding her firmly in place. She took a deep breath and snapped some photos as Zander picked up the black backpack.

“Definitely something heavy in here,” Zander said. He palpated the pack. “A few hard and narrow items.”

“Where do you want to open it?” asked Ava.

“Not in here. Let’s get a cloth spread out and open it over that. We’ll just look. If it’s what we think it is, we’ll call a team in to process it.”

Ava hopped down and grabbed the pack as Zander held it over the edge. It weighed about ten pounds, and something inside clunked as she handled it, metal on metal. She squeezed it in a few places, feeling long pieces. A takedown rifle? Zander nimbly climbed out of the dumpster and landed beside her.

“Let’s open it in the back of my vehicle.”

Adrenaline rushed through Ava as they returned to the SUV. Zander lifted the rear hatch, pulled a thin cloth out of his evidence kit, and spread it out on the floor of the cargo area. Ava set down the pack and pulled out her phone to snap photos. “Go for it.”

Zander unzipped the pack and peered inside. “Hello there, Mr. Ruger.” He spread open the main compartment for Ava to see.

She didn’t have the weapons knowledge that Zander had, but she knew an AR-15-style rifle when she saw one. Even in pieces. “I’ll get an evidence team out here,” she said, placing a call to her ASAC. “Need to inform the sheriff too.”

“I’ll check my email to see if they got back to me about the license plate.” Zander continued to peer in the backpack, opening it as wide as he could. “SR-556. It’s the Cadillac of takedown rifles.”

“Takedown?” Pat asked.

“Means you can break it down. I’ve handled one of these before and can break it down into three pieces in about ten seconds.” He jiggled the pack, trying to see into the bottom. “Three magazines.”

Ava’s skin went cold, her phone to her ear, waiting for Ben to answer her call. Zander hadn’t said how much ammunition each magazine held, but she guessed it to be thirty rounds. The shooter could have done a lot more damage at the courthouse than he had. She met Zander’s flat gaze, reading he’d had the same thought.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. He gently laid the pack back down and checked his email. “Shit. The license plate on our white car leads to a Toyota pickup.”

“Stolen plates,” Ava said, stating the obvious.

“Now what will you do?” asked Pat, his face full of curiosity.

“Start with the serial number on the rifle and whatever evidence the team can lift from this site.” She decided to get Pat out of their hair. “Pat, can you get me a copy of the video we watched? Send it to my email.” She handed him a business card.

Ben finally answered her call.

“We found a weapon,” she told him, unable to control the glee in her voice. “And we’ve got him on video, and we have a witness who talked to him face-to-face. I need an evidence team.”

Stunned silence greeted her words.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ben finally said. “Nice work.”

Finally, one thing had gone right in her shitty day.