The Silence (Columbia River #2)(48)

She took a deep breath and continued to read.

“The good news is the rounds match the weapon,” Zander said softly.

“But the serial number is a dead end.” Ava kept reading, her heart sinking. The report said the weapon was part of a stockpile of weapons that had been stolen from the ATF while in transit outside of Nevada. The theft had resulted in a big shoot-out, and two ATF agents had died. The weapons had disappeared.

“I remember when this happened a couple of months ago,” she said.

“We all do,” Zander said solemnly.

“How did our shooter get this gun?”

“Probably bought it off the street somewhere. Which is where the ATF got most of them in the first place.”

“Okay, folks. Let’s get started.” The sheriff strode to the front of the room, a stack of papers in his hands and two men following. The room quieted down, and everyone shifted in their seats, focused expectantly on the sheriff. He set the papers down, and the detective went to the open laptop on a table. The video from the church appeared on the big screen at the front of the room.

The sight made her breath catch. The video hadn’t started, but she knew it by heart. It was their biggest lead on the shooter.

The sheriff immediately launched into an explanation of what they were about to see. “And according to the lab report I just received, the weapon found in this church’s dumpster is a match to the rounds at the scene. This is our guy—or at least someone working with him.” He nodded at a detective, who started the video, and someone lowered the lights.

Even though the group had been told the weapon had been found in the dumpster, an audible gasp went up as the figure on-screen threw his backpack inside. The video ended, and enhanced stills of the man appeared on-screen. Ava automatically leaned forward, trying to get a better look. The images were still fuzzy, but much clearer than what she’d seen yesterday. There were no good views of his face.

Dammit.

“There’s a good chance this is Shawn Braswell,” the sheriff said. “His height matches what’s listed on his driver’s license, and the weight appears to be about the same. The hair is the wrong color, but we all know that can be changed.”

“Priors?” asked someone.

“No record,” said the sheriff. “Neither he or Reuben have ever been in trouble with the law.”

The fact bothered Ava. How did someone go from a law-abiding life to murdering his brother and others?

The sheriff went on. “It’s believed his vehicle was seen at the home of his brother, Reuben Braswell, where we discovered the plans for the courthouse bombing.”

“Which were just to get us in place to be murdered,” mumbled a voice behind Ava. Murmurs of agreement trickled through the room.

“The relationship between the brothers was volatile,” continued the sheriff. “But it looks like they had hatred of law enforcement in common.”

“Assuming that’s him,” Ava stated.

The sheriff nodded at her. “Correct. This is only a theory. Either way, I want this guy found. We’ll be pulling some of the teams and moving them to the area around the church. We want more video. He walked down the street. Surely a home security system or doorbell camera caught a better image. We’ll be checking traffic cameras in the area too.”

“What about the car?” asked a woman from the back.

“Plates are stolen,” the sheriff said. “We’re still trying to figure out where the car came from. You’ve all got the information on the missing vehicles belonging to Shawn and Reuben Braswell. Keep an eye out for them as you search. New assignments are at the back of the room.”

Everyone started to stand, speaking quietly to the people around them.

“Two more things,” the sheriff said loudly. Everyone quieted, their attention back to the sheriff. “The weapon used at the courthouse has been traced to a shipment of weapons stolen from the ATF not long ago.”

An angry buzz of voices immediately filled the room.

The sheriff held up his hands in a calming motion. “I know, I know. Two ATF agents were murdered during that Nevada robbery. We don’t know whether or not this guy is tied to the theft or their deaths. But either way, those weapons might be back on the street again. We’ll find out when we catch him.”

Ava had researched the robbery. Hundreds of weapons had been stolen. A drop in the bucket when compared to the nearly four hundred million that were believed to be in the United States. But most of those belonged to responsible gun owners. The odds were good that the stolen weapons would not end up in the hands of that group.

The sheriff continued. “I think you all know there’s a memorial service tonight.”

The room suddenly went silent. A moment later there were nods and quiet affirmations.

“Good. I’ll see you all there.”

The families of the fallen officers had asked for private funerals but agreed to a public memorial service. The shooting was still national news, and Ava knew the families had been mobbed by journalists and the nosy public. She didn’t blame them for having wanted the funerals kept secret.

“I’ve got the motel video,” Zander said in a low voice.

“Good. Let’s go look at it out in the hall.”

He nodded and followed her out of the room, the two of them weaving their way among other task force members. Near a windowed alcove, they stopped, and Zander pulled his laptop out of his bag as Ava tried not to dance with impatience.