Code(53)

“DNA. Trace evidence.” Hi nodded sagely. “Nice.”

“Then I’ll fire sample bullets into a trough or ballistics gel, and check the striations against our database. If the gun was used in any other crimes, I’ll find a match.”

“Match the gun, maybe find an owner.” Made sense to me. “It’s a shot, at least.”


“I’ll try our local files, then the South Carolina database. If that doesn’t tell us anything, I can run it through the ATF’s Ballistic Information Network.”

“That’s very generous,” I said. “You’re being incredibly helpful.”

Marchant thumb-hooked his belt. “Snare guns are extremely dangerous. Anything or anyone can walk into the field of fire. Whoever set that for your dog could just as easily have shot a child. They have to answer for that.”

“So you think we have a chance at an ID?” Hi asked.

“I do.” Marchant checked his watch. “A gun like this reeks of trouble. Give me a week and we’ll know if it’s reared its ugly head elsewhere.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Hi pointed to the AK. “So how’s about me ripping off a banana clip with that bad boy?”

“There’s zero chance of that happening.” Marchant smiled, drawing the sting from his words. “But I’ll let you know what I find.”

Repeating our thanks, Hi and I headed for the lot. I hoped that Wimpy and the Vomitasaurus had gotten their acts together.

“We need one of those fully autos.” Hi cracked his knuckles. “Maybe get one for the bunker, don’t you think? Keep the rabbits in check.”

“Hi, we’re going to have a talk about pushing people’s buttons.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.” He yawned huge. “I forgive you. Now, much more importantly—do you have any Advil?”





CHAPTER 28





The return trip began in silence.

Ben seemed flustered by his retching episode. He clutched the steering wheel in a two-handed death grip, driving faster than usual. Shelton just crawled in back to sleep.

I was happy we’d accomplished our goal, but still worried about The Game. Everything hinged on our solving the next puzzle. The pressure was starting to get to me.

Maybe Marchant would kick something loose. Fingers crossed.

Then Hi cleared his throat. “Time runs out at midnight. Any ideas?”

“We have to ID the figurine,” I said. “It’s our only clue.”

Hi and I discussed a few ideas, planned a strategy for that afternoon. Shelton snored. Ben said nothing, eyes glued to the road.

He’s embarrassed. Or worried he’ll boot in Kit’s ride.

Forty minutes later we arrived home on Morris. Ben pulled into my garage, tossed me the keys, and headed for his unit.

“Ben?” I called after. “Can you help this afternoon? We’re almost out of time.”

“Give me an hour.” Then he hurried off.

“He’s gonna spew.” Shelton burped, grimaced. “Think I’ll join him.”

“But you’re coming back too, right?”

Shelton raised a thumb. “Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”

I turned to see Hi slinking away as well. “Food. Or else I’m done for. I’ll come over when Shelton does.”

And just like that, I was alone.

I entered through the garage and ascended the back stairs. Coop was waiting at the top.

“Hey, boy.”

Coop’s backward glance was my only warning.

“Tory?” Whitney was lurking within.

I took a deep, calming breath, then stepped into the living room.

Whitney was perched on the couch. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” I said automatically, unsure of how I really felt but anxious to avoid the conversation. “Let’s just forget it.”

“I never meant to upset you.” Placing one delicate hand to her chest. “Truly! Your father and I should never have sprung such news.”

“Everything’s fine.” I decided there was no point being angry. “I overreacted.”

“No.” Whitney shook her head firmly. “This is your house, too.”

“Look, if you and Kit want to live together—” my palms rose, pushed outward aimlessly, “—it’s not my place to stand in your way.”

Whitney was saying more, but I didn’t hear. I’d noticed something . . . off.

I looked around. “Where’s your stuff?”

The vase, picture, and other foreign articles were missing. I spun. The Blue Dog painting was no longer in the hallway.

“I took my things home. You were one hundred percent correct. It was presumptuous to move them in without your approval.”

“No. Wait. I mean . . .”

A war raged inside me. On the one hand, this retreat was exactly what I’d wanted. Part of me felt like shouting “damn right!” and heading upstairs.

But Whitney was clearly trying to make good. Had gone to a lot of trouble.

For the first time I could recall, she actually seemed to get it.

But I really, really didn’t want her living here.